A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
As we juggled the kids during dinner, we were dismayed to see dark clouds creeping in. By the time we loaded everyone up, there was a veritable storm brewing. A storm with a strong tail wind, thunder, and lightning that jolted the sky right above our heads. And somehow Meredith and I were the lucky ones who were hauling the kids.
“Whatever you do, do not touch anything that is metal.”
“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Andy.
We made it home just as the rain started to dump, with no major repercussions. Though I must say that Jamie’s hair was looking rather suspect….
What a craaaazy week full of water, hikes and fun in the sun! For the 4th, I convinced still-sore Jamie to bike across town to a pancake breakfast and even threw in the clause that I would haul the children in the trailer. Because evidently all this heat has made my brain go to mush. Did I mention it was uphill? Both ways.
The kids had a grand time viewing the fireworks that night. Truth be told, I had an even grander time watching Bode (who has been walking for a couple of weeks) attempt to wobble down the small hill upon which we were perched. The kid surely has a future in gymnastics. And no, I didn’t feel badly for chuckling at his misadventures. I even gave that last roll/face plant a 10. Because I am supportive like that.
Welp, we were understandably torked off. Mike noticed and he pulled his buddies into our inner strategy sanctum. Big buff guys like Mike who were enraged on our behalf. “Don’t worry about anything,” they told us. “We’ll take care of these guys for you” one of them professed as he cracked his knuckles. I think he freelances as a hitman.
“Let’s slash their tires,” one of them suggested. Now, call me crazy but doesn’t slashing someone’s tires kinda defeat the purpose of getting rid of them?
I went inside to get the camera. By the time I started taking pictures, I, too had become a raging lunatic about the whole situation. As I was recording the evidence, I was interrupted by a small voice that queried, “What is this truck doing here? How are we supposed to get out?” Finally, the culprits.
I snapped. “WELL, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE YOU PARKED ON SOMEONE’S PRIVATE PROPERTY AND AND AND….” then I turned. There, in front of me, was sweet little 9-year-old Rachel, the daughter of our cruise buddies Ivan and Karla. Her family had decided to catch the fireworks at the last minute but had arrived after we departed.
I am alive but it has just been a busy week with a compendium of activities. I shall give the full report when I can carve out more than a few minutes. For now, I am currently throwing everything together to go to the beach with the kids today. Yes, you heard correctly: I shall immerse myself in sun, sand and water a.k.a. the three plagues of Amber.
However, I would be remiss if I did not thank you, dear friends, for your generosity. First, for nominating me for a Rockin’ Girl Blogger award.
I would like to return the favor to Loralee, Wendy, Kristy, Stie, and Aubrey.
I am also a finalist for “Most Athletic” in the 2007 Bloggy Hoss Elections. On behalf of moms everywhere who wear sweatpants to scale tall mountains because they can’t yet fit back into their sassy little hiking pants, I graciously accept this nomination. Why else should you vote for me?
The funny thing is I didn’t even know I was in the running. Get it? Most Athletic? Running.
I am still shocked I wasn’t nominated for Class Clown….
I am proud to say we bagged Mt. Elbert–Colorado’s highest peak and the second highest in the lower 48. I enjoy saying that because it sounds impressive. Not so impressive is my next confessional: I have hiked much steeper and more difficult mountains than Elbert.Feel my pain?
But this hike was different. We ascended through whispering aspen groves, boreal forests, glacier-scoured valleys nestled between craggy peaks and through profusions of wildflowers in full bloom. In the distance, the silence was punctured by the howl of coyotes and the call of an elk. Oh, and the cussing of a Canuck. Did I mention just how steep it was?
He stopped in his tracks.
I am proud to be a role model for supporting a husband’s aspirations and dreams.
Reaching the summit is like an elite club of folks whose altitude sickness has made them forget the misery of the climb. And that is what keeps them coming back again and again. The group is always eclectic, always friendly, and always has a story. Like this young buck who set the goal to juggle atop all of Colorado’s 14ers.
I felt strong the first few miles of the descent but the intensity of the hike kicked in the last 1.5 miles and our knees screamed out in protest.
Jamie’s knee was still bothering him when we arrived home so I graciously unloaded his luggage. And you’ll never guess what I discovered.
“Hey Jamie. I just found the maps.”
“Oh, where?”
“In your backpack.”
“Oh yeah. I put them in there so I wouldn’t forget them on the climb.”
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. Learn More