Work's out for winter

After three months of work with the Paralympic Team it's time to hang up the ski boots...and then pull them straight back down again.

Training wound up on Sunday and on Monday a U-Haul van, filled with 38 ski bags, drove away from Avon bound for Australia (via a container ship). Thankfully, my ski bag was not in it, but rather with me on its way to Breckenridge. It was with some regret that I waved goodbye to the rest of the team, standing outside the house that was going to be home for the next few months. Regret that I wouldn't get the last few rays of summer fun back in Australia; that I wouldn't see family and friends for another few months at least; that I might have forgotten the code to get into the garage of the house and would be stuck outside until someone got home. But that all quickly washed away when I turned to look at the mountain looming above me and found the piece of paper with the code on it in my pocket. 

So after three months of skiing Vail - albeit, mostly one small area - I thought I'd be ready to ski somewhere else. That's why it was odd that I found myself sliding skis into the back of the car and throwing boots over the back seat on Wednesday morning, preparing to head back to Vail. Maybe the car also thought this was slightly odd, because when I turned the ignition - nothing. Not a cough, whir or hum from the engine. Not even a light on the dash made itself known. After much frowning, trying, retrying, phone calling and bashing around the garage, a battery charger was found and my mechanic skills could be put to the test. (Yes, attaching a battery charger to a battery is counted as mechanic skills.)  An hour of impatient foot tapping and prodding of the charger later, things were back on track and I was finally on my way to Vail. 

The engine that sat between me and a day of fun.

Grilling, skiing and margaritas were the order of the day, so it was straight out to the Blue Sky Basin grilling deck. Hot dogs were already sizzling on the grill so it was just a matter of throwing one in a bun with some sauerkraut (we were with a Czech Republican) and mustard and kicking back to enjoy the view.  

It ain't called Blue Sky Basin for nothing.

With ski patrol ushering us away from the grill and with bellies full, some achingly so, it was time to hit up the Minturn Mile for a few turns. The Minturn Mile is a popular backcountry route from the top of Vail to the nearby town of Minturn, home of the Turntable Diner and Minturn Saloon. Although it was late in the day and the snow was crusting up after copping a pounding from the sun all day, we could see the appeal of the route; a consistent, uninterupted fall line, wide open turns, trees if you want them and one hell of a ski out along a several mile long luge track disguised as a valley.

The luge track to Minturn.

Waiting for us in Minturn was a Saloon full of margaritas and a weird dude in a pick up truck offering lifts back to Vail for $7. I've already described the real American experience provided by the Turntable Diner in Minturn, so it will be of little surprise that the Minturn Saloon provides another one of those experiences. Locals fill the bar, with signed photographs and letters from the likes of John Wayne, Yogi Berra, Glen Plake and Joe DiMaggio filling every square inch of wall space not taken up by giant snake skins and buffalo heads. 

Just don't look at anyone the wrong way.

The day was capped off when, with a bit of wheeling and dealing, we managed to escape the sting of the $25 parking fee at Vail.

And so with work done and still a few months left in the US of A, here's to hoping a fair majority of days end up similar to this one. But maybe without the flat battery, even though I wouldn't mind showing off my mechanic skills again. 

Timed to perfection

You know those moments where everything just seems to line up perfectly? After being inside all day you look outside to see a sunset that puts your wall paper to shame. When you’re outside in the sun and dirt, digging a hole thinking about how thirsty you are and someone brings you a glass of lemonade. When you’re rewinding a video and stop on the exact place you wanted.  I love those moments. Those moments make me feel like a superstar.

I had two of those moments on one day very recently. On Sunday afternoon I was driving our athletes to Denver so they could catch a flight to Europe early on Monday morning. It’s normally a two hour drive and we’d heard the weather was going to be bad. Being the conscientious we are we left a day early to stay a night in Denver and make sure we got to the airport in the morning with plenty of time. Four minutes from home in Avon we rounded a corner to witness a sea of glowing red lights. Hundreds of brake lights glowed and nothing moved. At that precise moment the announcer on the radio came on the air to let us know that there’d been an accident on the I-70 between Minturn and West Vail and the traffic was backed up like a parking lot. Def Leppard’s drummer couldn’t have had better timing. It was one of those moments.

The next one of those moments followed twenty minutes later. While we were playing eye spy and waiting for the traffic to clear we’d changed radio stations. As the traffic returned to full speed the new announcer came on the air to tell us that the I-70 was backed up because of an accident between Minturn and West Vail. It was another one of those moments…except an hour too late.

In the twenty minutes we were waiting for the accident to clear the bad weather had arrived and sent all the traffic on the I-70 into cardiac arrest. If we were going to be sitting in traffic for the next little while eye spy was not going to cut it. Perfect time to get some reading done. Unfortunately, Shantaram was so engrossing that I didn’t see the traffic moving again and lost several places in the jostle for pole position in the traffic jam. Clearly reading wasn’t going to work either. What do you do when your car isn’t fancy enough to have a DVD player? You improvise and put a laptop on the dash. That way I could watch a film and still watch the traffic at the same time. And everyone in the car could join in. Perfect! It made five hours driving feel like four!

Predictably, the next morning dawned bright and sunny with clear skies and roads. But those couple moments where everything lined up perfectly made it all worth it. Those moments are golden.

A real American experience

A real American experience. That’s what I had been missing. I’ve been in Colorado for a month now and, until recently, hadn’t had a stereotypical American experience. You know the ones. Finishing your steak and realising there really was a plate underneath, you just couldn’t find it. Going to a frat keg party that gets shut down by the cops, who turn out to be really cool and join the party. Buying a gun from Wal-Mart. That one almost did actually happen. One of the people I’m living with who has a visual impairment came home from Wal-Mart with a Winchester case. We all freaked out until he just pulled a scope from the box. It is to help him see race courses from the bottom of the hill. Pretty much anything you would see in a Michael Moore film.

I finally got a full on dose of American culture over the Christmas break. I had a few days off so I headed over to Breckenridge to visit some friends. Apparently they’d been hanging out for a reason to go ten pin bowling. So the day after Christmas that’s what we did. Erin was the expert in our group – own bowling ball, sky blue leather bowling ball bag, bowling shoes, bowling ball shiner – and her alley of choice was in Dillon. I couldn’t help but show my shock and excitement when they suggested we eat at the alley. This real American experience was actually happening. My arteries couldn’t help but show their shock and horror when we looked at the menu, handwritten on a white board. Cheese pizza, corn dogs, hot dogs, nachos, just to start. This was all a bit much for us, so after a buffalo burger across the road we returned to the alley for bowling and beer. It was everything I was hoping it would be: dark and dingy, people curling balls from the edge of the gutter to the middle of the pins, beer served in plastic cups. The only thing missing was a group of mismatched men in bowling shirts with names on the back like Bowling Stones, Kingpins and Rolling Pins. And if you were wondering, Erin won. Just.

Ashley (bowling name: Dinah) demonstrating 

her impeccable bowling skills.

Dinah doing some serious 

ball shining.

Part two of the real American experience came this morning in the form of a diner breakfast. Halfway between Vail and Avon, just off the I-70, lies the old mining town of Minturn. People come from all around to Minturn to eat at the Turntable Restaurant. This place is for real. We were greeted by an aging, flirtatious waitress, drip coffee was served, half and half was added to the coffee, orders were taken and we were left to marvel at our surroundings. Original Coke posters and mirrors adorned the walls, a locked glass case filled with Elvis memorabilia and life-size mannequins of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe stood sentry in a corner and, the crowning glory, Minturn High School graduating class pictures peered down upon us from above the door. We politely enquired to our waitress where her class photo was. She finished in 1966. The class photos only covered up to 1959. The Turntable Restaurant’s food is good. I can recommend the veggie omelette. It is a travesty that it is only the third best restaurant in Minturn.

The Turntable Restaurant, Minturn.

So now I’m looking for some more real American experiences. Any ideas?