Adobe

Eitan gets pretty pissed off when I suggest that he is DDG and he will get loads of smooches from the girls when a teenager. I then make kissing noises. This usually elicits a glare of sheer hatred: "Stop it Dad! That is not funny." Yes, these are the easy years in that regard.

We see the toy-museum on Museum Hill and it is fab. The exhibits are collected from every country and displayed in simple show boxes; they also cover different epoques. What is surprising (or perhaps least surprising?) is how similar the crafts - regardless of continent the themes of religion, community, war, family and farming hold true then and now.

We're tired after the morning and Sonnet picks up lunch from Whole Foods - the first healthy meal in like a month I think. Eitan is thrilled beyond belief to find ManU v. Newcastle on the tele - it is a taped game but so what? Heaven, My Dear Friend. Heaven.

Eitan is bored and I tell him to enjoy it. "How can I enjoy IT when IT is not enjoyable?" he asks.

I tell Eitan I will take him to the pool in a half-hour. He replies: "Aw, Dad! I cannot possibly wait that long!"

Heaven and Hell

Another beautiful day in Santa Fe, another museum. This time we go to "museum hill" where we visit the Indian contemporary, which includes cultural items, a history of the geography and tribes and a retrospective on Indian comics - cool for many reasons but mainly because they give out DC and Marvel comics - the new ones too, with lots of bad-ass characters like Wolverine. The older issues I recognise from way-back when Berkeley's Telegraph Ave. had two comic book shops. The ancient 10¢ books had all kinds of stereotypes, surprise-surprise. The most offensive cover: "Indians Run Wild And This Is 1959!"picturing a touristy homey with his black camera strapped from his neck. He is tied to a totem pole and next to his wife who is hot and vulnerable. Arrows fly, boy. Arrows fly.

Santa Fe is a mixture of white trash, (rich)(white) retirees, monied tourists (white), the indigenous and the poor who are vaguely menacing. Ford trucks tail-gate regardless of your lane. The culture here is world-class for a small town and amazingly supports museums, crafts, fairs, dance and the opera too of course. Visitors feed the economy with their buying and the historic plaza takes advantage of our need to spend: we visit a cowboy chic shop and the French sales-woman comments on my "French shirt," an Izod, and then is surprised when I reply en francais justifying my Jr year exchange. She is from Paris and now here, lucky her. Sonnet exams a belt with a $2,400 price tag and we are assured "it is one of a kind." And one that will stay there, I assure her.

Eitan asks how long until we arrive? Again. And again. And again. Finally I counter: "if we are 40 miles from our destination and driving 40 miles per hour, how long do you think?"
It is beyond him. For now anyways. Sonnet meanwhile suggests that she learned eight times seven in the fifth grade.

Me: "What was your favorite thing in the museum?"
Madeleine: "I liked that thing with heaven and hell."
Me: "Do you understand what that means?"
She: "Hell is when you put pins in your eyeballs forever."

Bill

Bill is husband to Martine. He is also a horse whisperer - he has a gentle way with people and animals which is patient and calming. Bill and Martine's ranch in Le Veta is a highlight of our trips to Colorado and Madeleine especially has taken to their extended-family. Both kids follow the horses lives via the occasional update - this year 27 year-old Charlie passed away which brought tears to Madeleine's eyes. Bill and I discuss the Boléro - I am not sure I can get away with one in London but I love the look and am contemplating, Dear Reader. We enjoy Santa Fe yesterday and visit the IAIA to see the Fritz Sheldon exhibition. Sheldon a Native American trained in European techniques and encouraged to include his nations experiences. Not surprisingly it is dark and violent. It reminds me of German George Baslitz whose post WW2 abstracts capture the horror of his post-war country.

Eitan is insufferable this morning so we try something different: silent treatment. It works. Boy does it work.

The Opera House

Marcus goofs in front of ... ?

"Every July and August since 1957, opera lovers have been drawn to the magnificent northern New Mexico mountains to enjoy productions by one of America's premier summer opera festivals. Here, The Santa Fe Opera's dramatic adobe theater blends harmoniously with the high desert landscape. It is this fusion of nature and art that leaves such an enduring impression on all who come. More than half the audience of 85,000 comes from outside New Mexico, representing every state in the union as well as 25 to 30 foreign countries.

"More than 1,600 performances of nearly 140 different operas have been given here, including nine world premieres and 40 American premieres, among them Lulu, The Cunning Little Vixen, Capriccio, and Daphne. Recent premieres include the world premiere of Madame Mao, commissioned from Bright Sheng, in 2003, the premiere of the revised version of Osvaldo Golijov's Ainadamar, in 2005, the American premiere of Thomas Ades's The Tempest, in 2006, and the American premiere of Tan Dun's Tea: A Mirror of Soul in 2007. The 2008 season brings the American premiere of Adriana Mater by Kaija Saariaho, whose L'amour de loin received its American premiere here in 2002."

Stan and Silver have been attending since 1974 and have seen "oh, at least 50 operas since then."

L'Opera

We see The Marriage of Figero at the Santa Fe Opera, which has to be one of the most spectacular settings for such a thing in the world let alone Colorado. The hall is surrounded by mountains and faces the setting sun, which we watch through the pink and orange clouds.

I am hooked before Mozart's first note. Joining us are everybody - Shelton and Bill who with Stan unite the three brothers; Bill and Martine, Marcus and Brigitte. Before the performance we have dinner at Tom's adobe house - Tom, you see, is a now-retired Alaskan opthomologist who saved Marcus's life when Marcus had eye-cancer at age five or '73. He made sure that Marcus had the best care anywhere, at this time in Iowa, when radiation treatments were a novelty. After this, the performance superfluous. But sublime.

Another Day, Another Tooth

Eitan loses a tooth this AM while chomping on his Fruit Loops. It has been wiggling for some time and the blood surprises a few grannies sitting next to us - but really, it is all good. The boy happily boasts to anybody but mostly Madeleine that the Tooth Ferry "owes" him four bucks (we have a discussion about whether the Tooth Ferry should settle in pounds or dollars). His wrist-band BTW presented to him by an Ouray Life Guard for passing the "Deep End Test." Since I cannot remember his last bath - the band naturally stays on. His last hair cut in June. Maybe.

Blue Mesa

We leave Montrose saying good-bye to Katie and Mark. On the drive away we stop at the Blue Mesa Dam - pictured - which creates the largest body of water in Colorado and allows for places like Montrose to exist. A post tells us:

Dam Embankment: 3,100,000 CU YD
Reservoir Capacity: 941,000 AC FT
Height above river: 341 feet
Spillway Tunnel Diameter: 21 feet
Power Plant Output: 98 MW
Crest Length: 800 feet

The water is cold too - about 49 degrees - which compares to the Pacific's 60-62 (in these temps your nuts go into serious hiding even with a wet-suit). Still a water skier goes for it bothered only by the fisherman sitting idle in their boats. Not a bad life.

In Seguach, a small town of 500, we visit the local museum interesting because Chief Ouray spent his summers here so there is plenty of his history. Recall, Dear Reader, that Ouray was the Utes, who were moved from their territorial lands to Indian "reserves" in the 1850s; the brave Ouray went to Washington to be told of his people's humiliation. His and other treasures are housed in a white-wall built in 1851 by the earliest settler. Over time, it has served as a home, the blacksmiths, the local high school (until the 1940s) and finally the sheriff's office and jail until 1959. Arthur Packer, the infamous cannibal captured in 1891 and tried eventually in the state capital, stayed here before his transfer. Packer garnished at least six co-travelers on their way to gold in thar mountains. Today the old jail is open for viewing and Eitan and Madeleine have no problem closing themselves behind bolted doors. Frankly it gives me the creeps: two cells each hold bunk beds with light nor room to move. A crapper, in its own contained cell, rests outside the bunks. Prisoners whittled their names or "painted" images using matches on the walls which are visible clearly today. Cool. The children ask good questions and give it their interest, which make the elderly staffers feel good I think. Probably too cuz we are likely the only guests today and perhaps the weekend. Still it is a jewel.

We pull into Santa Fe this evening surviving mountain storms and Sonnet's driving. OK, her driving is not bad usually but I am cranky. We see Bill and Martine who stop by our hotel to say 'hello' and discuss horses; we then meet everybody for dinner including Brigitte and Shelton (Stan's brother) who retired several years ago but still Chairs the Telluride Film Festival, which he founded and begins next week-end. A committee of two select the films BTW and nobody knows what it will be, even Shelton, until the day.

Right and Left

Here is the determination I have known since day-one. In this instance, applied to the jungle-gym but it could easily by Kumon (maths), the classroom, football &c. It is also applied to her brother who constantly rags her these days. I tell Madeleine that Eitan has her button, and after explaining what this means, I advise her the best solution is to ignore him. This is, like, totally impossible so instead they trade blows in the back of the car until somebody (me) screams bloody-hell. Yes, we are at that point in the holiday familiar to all vacationing families: we are about to kill each other.

I learn a cool thing today which I have always puzzled: why is Paris's Left Bank called, well, the Left Bank? It doesn't seem this way on a map, I mean really. The "right" and "left" are determined by the directional flow of the river. So the Left Bank is the left side of the Seine going with the flow.

Gunnison II

More on The Gorge:

"We entered a gorge, remote from the sun.... where a rock splintered river roared and howled ten feet below the track.... There was a glory and a wonder and a mystery about the wild ride that I felt keenly." - Rudyard Kipling, 1889

"On August 14, 1882, the first train chugged through the Black Canyon. For the next 67 years, carloads of coal, ore and livestock, as well as passenger cars, traveled this route.

"Later, motor vehicle travel replaced rail service here. The tracks were removed in 1949, but the trestles and railbed remained. Tourists in automobiles drove the old railroad route to reach the superb fishing of the Gunnison River.

"Most of the rail bed has vanished under the rising waters of reservoirs created in the canyon. Today, the trail you've walked is all that's left of the railroad grade. But those who pause here may still feel the "glory, wonder and mystery" of this place as did rail passenger Kipling."

Sonnet gets the three-cheers for arranging our day trip which is now grafted to my brain. Way.

Gunnison

A postage tells us:

"Steep, deep and forbidding, the canyon in which you now stand has long inspired human awe and respect. Ute Indians probably avoided the gorge. Later travelers found it a challenging obstacle.

"Captain John Gunnison explored the are in 1853 His goal was to locate a possible transcontinental railroad route. His party found a chasm so imposing that he gave up his plan to follow the river into this canyon.

"Gunnison's name endures in this country, in spite of his expeditions failure to establish a railroad route. Over 30 years later, another group successfully surveyed the depths of this "Black Canyon of the Gunnison" for construction of the railroad"

Our Ranger Kirk is fabulous and he takes us into a canyon that eventually becomes the Crystal Reservoir or a river depth of ten feet to 240. Just upstream it is dammed again to form Morrow Point Reservoir and the Mesa Blue Reservoir. These reservoirs were formed to "reclaim" waters otherwise "wasted" in the Pacific, creating agriculture in otherwise desert land - Montrose receives less than 3 or 4 inches of water on average (an interesting side-note is that Tucson, AZ, uses one-third Montrose - this because they recycle their sewage and the future, My Dear). The reservoirs are the upper part of the Black Canyon which we know is one of the longest, narrowest, and deepest gorges in the world thank you very much. Below Crystal Dam it begins to roar through massive cataracts and flows through the deepest part of the gorge. It eventually empties into the Colorado near Grand Junction. It drops on average 43 feel per mile - which is more than the Mississippi over 1,000 miles.

Michael Phelps makes it eight! Wow !!

Ice Cream !

At the Candy Store in Ouray the kids score a bowl of ice scream which is described as "one scoop" (I think the cashier has under-charged us, Dear Reader). Strollers are unable to resist a comment and one guy tells Eitan to put his face in it - which he does to everybody's glee including me, snapping away.

Meanwhile, Georgia falls apart as the Russians fail to honor Sarkozy's cease fire+a Russian general indicates Poland may receive a nuclear strike in return for hosting the US missle defense shield. As Madeleine Albright points out, a game-plan for the Caucusus should have been in place "for months" given the tension in the region. But el Presidente caught off guard - this time we know it is serious BTW as Bush shortens his summer holiday to deal with the crisis (who can forget Bush on vacation August in its entirety in 2001 and of course during Katrina). Yes, our frat-boy leader gets duped again by the foreseeable circumstance - recall his most famous love-in: "I looked the man in the eye. I found him to be very straight forward and trustworthy and we had a very good dialogue. I was able to get a sense of his soul." George Bush has discredited an entire field of advanced study - all MBAs, including myself, are shamed.

Madeleine: "Do you think Michael Phelp's dog knows that he is a champion?"

Ridgway III

We meet Katie and Mark in Ridgway- yes, our third time at the True Grit restaurant but it is between Ouray and Telluride so a convenient point de rendez-vous. Sonnet stays at her folks and the gathering of the Women That Lunch - Silver's book club. The gals are buzzy about London, the V and A AND fashion. Mon dieu - Sonnet has ticked every box and gives a small presentation while I am outta there with the kiddos. From the Grit, we head to the Ouray springs where we soak for like three hours then to the Stanfills for dinner. Meanwhile after dinner and the children retired I cannot find Blockbuster Video - I mean, what is up with that? I drive the sprawl like four or five times and somehow miss the enormous signage which I know is somewhere for Christ's sake. Maybe I am old or maybe they are closed, which seems unlikely on a Friday night. Anyway, I pick up Sonnet a DQ "Blizzard" via the drive-in and feel very small-town. It is a good feeling, BTW. I also check out a young guy and his gal at the City Market. They are super flirty and sexy - he's dusty from his day job and wearing construction boots while she has her tight fitting tighty up top. He cashes a $350 check and after forever they take their beer and Red Bulls into the weekend. Pay day for sure.

Red Barn

The Red Barn on Main St is freely described as Montrose's "most famous restaurant" and not far from where we are staying, lucky us. It is a family favorite, without doubt, and serves up mostly Western Fair which means steak (Sterling Silver Certified Premium Beef, Dear Reader). In my opinion they would easily compete with New York's best - and of course, like any good steak house, they take themselves a bit too seriously. Their web site notes: "Where Rumours (sic) end....and Legends begin." There is a terrific bar, darked-out of course, with multiple televisions showing American sports (but not the Olympics). Locals drink mostly hard liqueur (lik-ur) but sometimes Coors. Red Barn has been in Montrose over 40 years and reminds me of The Oyster Bar in Sarasota which is a similar old-style institution my mom discovered in the 1950s when her family drove from Ohio to Sarasota for the summers. The Barns final selling point, also from the website, notes "....all guaranteed to leave you full, not broke." Bravo in my book.

Madeleine: "look I'm getting breasts." (I tell her to pipe down and enjoy her kid-hood).

I tell Eitan and Madeleine we are hiking to the top of a visible peak before the pool. Madeleine wales but Eitan surprisingly cool: "You cannot fool me anymore dad" the boy says.

Madeleine disparagingly to me: "why can't we have a third kid who I can talk to?"

Madeleine on Eitan's newly acquired stuffed bear: "He loves him more than the family."

Montrose II

Some more on Montrose:

Montrose was incorporated in 1882 and named after Sir Walter Scott's Legend of Montrose. The Denver & Rio Grande railroad building west toward Grand Junction reached Montrose later in 1882 and Montrose became an important regional shipping center with a branch railroad line serving the mineral rich San Juan Mountains to the south.

In 1909 the Gunnison Tunnel opened providing irrigation water from the Gunnison River in the Black Canyon to Uncompahgre Valley helping turn Montrose into an agricultural hub as well.

Today Montrose serves as the gateway to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park to the east of town, and winter transportation hub to ski areas of the San Juan Mountains to the south.

"

Montrose Stats

Katie arrives to great excitement.

Here is some data on Montrose:

As of the census of 2000, there were 12,344 people, 5,244 households, and 3,319 families residing in the city. The population density was 1,076 people per square mile. There were 5,581 housing units at an average density of 486 sq mile. The racial makeup of the city was 8% white, 0.44% African American, 0.98% Native American, 0.58% Asian, 0.07% Pacific Island, 6.55% from other races and 2.38% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race were 17.36% of the population.

There were 5,244 households out of which 28.2% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 49.8% were married couples living together, 10.2% had a female householder with no husband present, and 36.7% were non-families. 31.9% of all households were made up of individuals and 16.2% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.29 and the average family size was 2.88.

In the city the population was spread out with 23.9% under the age of 18, 7.2% from 18 to 24, 25.8% from 25 to 44, 22.5% from 45 to 64, and 20.6% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 40 years. For every 100 females there were 90.8 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 87.2 males.

The median income for a household in the city was $33,750, and the median income for a family was $42,017. Males had a median income of $30,674 versus $21,067 for females. The per capital income for the city was $18,097. About 11.3% of families and 14.7% of the population were below the poverty line, including 19.9% of those under age 18 and 9.8% of those age 65 or over.

Stitch

Silver saves Mellon Orange Belly Collie Bear who, despite a $22 price tag, is not made to er world class.

Montrose has God everywhere. Sonnet counts at least five places of worship on her morning run including two Episcopalian within four blocks of each other (one reformed, Dear Sister). We pass by a sign on the main drag that asks: "Is God your pilot or co-pilot?" (I am not sure what the right answer is). 58% of the city is religious compared to 50% of America. Catholics are most present at 22% followed by Protestant (15%) and Methodist and Lutheran each at 8%. There are no Muslims surprise-surprise. This is big time Republ-e-cun territory with 69% of the voters registered that way and the GOP main offices on Main Street. Guns, God and gays oh my. I know to keep my mouth shut when at Walmarts.

Katie arrives at the Chuck Jaeger International Airport ("international" because of a flight to Mexico) and I kick-fight the kids at the airport. The idea to kick your opponent - no hands allowed and only one child at a time. We really wack each other too - and despite the hard hits, the kids squeal in delight and no tears. My new game drives kids wild and Sonnet crazy but what the heck - it burns some energy.

Eitan refuses sun block and looks me square in the eye: "I'd rather get cancer."

Dinosaurs

Madeleine. "Is that our car, dad? Is it?" Some questions should not be answered.

After the canyons we drive to Fruita to visit a dinosaur museum. The Western Slope is one of the most active digs in the world covering the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods or 145 million years ago. The first discovery of dinosaur bones in Colorado was made near Canyon City in late 1869 referenced in a now famously lost newspaper article that referenced huge bones in a curio shop in Canon. We see bones and replicas of Diplodocinae, Ornithomimus and Tyrannosaurus while various hands-on activities keep the Shakespeares occupied. It is not a big museum but this is by no means a negative. On display through plate-glass is the broader collection which is stacked neatly in row upon row. Neat. Of equal or greater interest is McDonalds next door which has a play-pen. By the time we return to the parking lot ours the only car remaining - pictured.

On the ride home we hear a campaign add which ends with "I am John McCain and I approve this message." This leads to: "I am Eitan and I like to eat broccoli" and "I am Madeleine and I do Kumon every day." This for at least ten miles.

The Monument

The Monument includes 20,500 acres (32 square miles), much of which has been recommended to Congresss for designation as wilderness. (We learn BTW that a "Monument" is declared so by the President - in this case Taft - while a National Park is an act of Congress). The area was first explored by John Otto, a drifter who settled in Grand Junction in the early 20th century. Prior to Otto's arrival, many area residents believed the canyons to be inaccessible to humans. Otto began building trails on the plateau and into the canyons. As word spread about his work, Grand Junction sent a delegation to see what he was doing. The delegation returned praising both Otto's work and the scenic beauty of the wilderness area. The local newspaper began lobbying to make it a National Park.

The area was established as Colorado National Monument on May 24, 1911. Otto was hired as the first park ranger, drawing a salary of $1 per month. For the next 16 years, he continued building and maintaining trails while living in a tent in the park.

We learn all this and more at a nice Ranger's station where a young gal gives us the overview. The kids are entranced and more so by the gift-shop. Madeleine buys a very cool "stamp book" of all national parks in the US - there are about 400. We've already been to several including Big Trees and Black Canyon. She will have to get those later. According to the sales clerk "people go crazy about their booklets" and let us hope so.

Canyons Within Canyons

We drive to the Colorado Monument, a national park outside Grand Junction and about 65 miles from Montrose. It is seriously spectacular - my photos taken in the high-noon sun - do not do the place justice. Sheer-walled canyons, towering monoliths, colorful formations, desert bighorn, sheep, soaring eagles, and a ridgeway road that freaks Sonnet out - no railings and 1,500 foot straight drops into the valley. Wow. Our first overlook, appropriately named "cold shivers" is a road-pull off and a five minute walk across the shale. There is a protective fence at the vista but one can easily walk to various edges that make my nuts crawl into my stomach in terror. The kids are ordered away and Sonnet keeps a hand on each while I goof for some rather dangerous photographs. One trip and Pow! I'm gone.

A signage tells us: "You are standing near the head of the biggest canyon in the park (4 miles / 6 km) not far from here the canyon narrows into a ravine. Just before that it is little more than a ditch or a gully beside the road. Another few thousands years of periodic rainstorms will turn the ditch into a chasm as wide as the one in front of you."

Eitan: "Wow."

Madeleine: "Mom! Eitan called me 'midget!'"

Au Natural

Sonnet and I visit the Ouray natural springs which is clothing-optional. We've been here many befores and can agree: It mostly ain't pretty, Dear Reader. Today however we have some yuf (not that I am concentrating or anything). Ok - the hot springs temp is between 97 and 105 degrees depending on the season and the height of the water table within the eart. In order to increase the temperature of the main pond, flumes mix water from the crater and well pit of approximately 118 degrees. The Tabagueche Indians, led by Chief Ouray, soaked in the hot springs for its calming affects as well as medical healing for such ailments as arthritis. The waters have traces of Calcium, Flourine, Magnesium, Mangnese, Potassium, Sulfer and Lithium which may enhance a mood of tranquility and is used as a drug treatment for manic depression. Sonnet and I lounge sans kids and sans clothes. Hippie dippie fer sur.

Watching the men's 4X100 freestyle I yell so loudly the hotel reception calls: "Is somebody screaming?" she asks. The drama intense as A) Phelps needs the W for eight; and B) the French are quoted: "we will smash zee Americans." The American victory smashes the world record by four seconds which is unimaginable given improvements are tenths and hundredths. Anchor Jason Lezek's unofficial anchortime of 46.06 the fastest ever swum for this distance and steals the race by eight one-hundreths of a second. Lezark and Garrett Weber-Gale are Jewish BTW and Cullen Jones black - Israel's Haaretz Magazine: "Two Jews and a black man help Phelps fulfill dream." And there you have it.

The painting by Nicolai Fechin (Seated Nude, 1950); she is one of the most unusual and inventive of the Taos artists.