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.

Ouray II

Sonnet and I revisit our favorite Beaumont Hotel for a romantic night away - kids with grand-parents, thank God. Situated in a river valley at 7,700 ft. in the middle of the Rocky Mountains is Ouray - pictured- nicknamed the "Switzerland of America." Hmmm. The town began with the Tabequache Indians, a nomadic band who traveled here in the summer to hunt the abundant forest game and to soak in what they called “sacred miracle waters”. In 1873, the famous Ute Chief, Ouray, reluctantly signed a government treaty releasing the Ute’s treasured San Juan Mountains to encroaching settlers. Chief Ouray was instrumental in keeping peace between the Ute Indians and the many settlers.The town was named in his honor.

By 1880 with the frenzy for precious metals, Ouray grew into a mining town with >2,600 people which was a large number then. Many of the buildings built between 1880-1900 still stand: the Beaumont (1886), the St Elmo Hotel (1898), the Miners Hospital (1887) and the Walsh Library (1899), to the un-restored Livery Barn (1883) and the Western Hotel Salool (1881). In 1983, both the Colorado and National Historic Authorities honored the City of Ouray as a National Historic District. Lucky us!

Mountains

I have a hard time picking a photo from our ride on 10, which is a "maintained" road off the 550 and connects to HW 50 through the Uncompahgre State Park. It snakes through some of the most dramatic, unspoiled vistas I have seen taking us to >10,000. The younger ranges of the Rocky Mountains uplifted during the late Cretaceous period (100 million-65 million years ago), although some portions of the southern mountains date from uplifts during the Precambrian (3,980 million-600 million years ago). Periods of glaciation occurred from the Pleistocen Epoch (1.8 million-70,000 years ago) to the Holocene Epoch (fewer than 11,000 years ago). Recent episodes included the Bull Lake Glaciation that began about 150,000 years ago and the Pinedale Glaciation that probably remained at full glaciation until 15,000-20,000 years ago. Water in its many forms sculpted the present Rocky Mountain landscape. Runoff and snowmelt from the peaks feed Rocky Mountain rivers and lakes with the water supply for one-quarter of the United States. The rivers that flow from the Rocky Mountains eventually drain into the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.


I ask Eitan just now what he thought of the mountains yesterday? He replies "Mountains? What mountains?" and "I thought it was boring."

A TV announcement by local law firm Goldwater promises a large cash payment if you have had a colonic transplant. I mean - WTF?

Red Train

Both kids love the ride, which supports the fire service. Sonnet and I observe Eitan who at times difficult and demanding while others a little kid who wants a stuffed animal, which he buys and names "Mellon Bellie Colibear." Surely he is self-aware and independence comes with a price.

Fathers and Daughters

Stan and Sonnet - red engine behind them. The firemen are here in force - serving up a pancake breakfast and giving train rides to the kiddies. Most off them have mustaches and I wonder why, whether New York or Colorado or wherever, mustaches go with the job? Any case, it is cool and I tried one last summer but chickened out before returning to London. I can say with some certainty that I have never met anybody with a mustache in private equity. Too bad to because it would be memorable. Silver and I discuss my industry's diversity and along with mustaches, minorities are also poorly represented. At the annual Super Returns conference which draws >2000 delegates there is not one black person I recall and may be forty or fifty women. Everybody has a similar Hermès tie, slick hair and glasses - in short, it is a mature industry. When everybody looks the same you know any inefficiencies have been wrung out and trouble ahead.

President Bush advises the US Olympics basket ball team that "a best defense is the best offense." This insight seen by like 4 billion people. Why can't he just go away?

Is Edwards the dumbest man in America? To think this prick could have been the Democratic candidate.

Robin

Aunt Robin sells her jewelry in Ridgway. She is a natural and people gravitate to her and her wonderful Southwestern rocks. The kids are excited by the spare ribs and train rides around the grounds. It is a local affair and the setting spectacular. Robin and Ray drive from Le Veta and they are surrounded by many people they know including neighbors who also have booths. Me, I sit in a fold-out chair, drink excellent coffee and people watch - certainly a different crowd from London and fun too. Their are teenagers holding hands (Eitan aghast), women shepherding their husbands to various crafts (Stan says "crap" and I "crapola") and families running amok. OK, ours. Anyway it is a nice day in a small town in America. We are privileged.

The Olympics open with a bang! as Michael Phelps sets a world record and blows out the field in the 400 individual Medley. He is impressively cool and relaxed - which must scare the bejesus out of his competitors. Could he be my hero? It is either him or Dara Torres, races one of the fastest relay split ever but it is not enough for Gold, which goes to Netherlands. Heroes are hard to come by these days and here are two bona fides.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Here are the little dudes doing their favorite thing: watching television. I'm pretty sure if we left food and water, we could leave the kids for, like, a week. Sonnet an I have a date last night at the movies - "Pineapple Express" (adolescent, violent - great). Two teen-agers baby-sit and I remark the divide - they are clearly not impressed by my orange cowboy hat and white flit-flops, though we make back some ground with our SUV as one remarks slyly: "sweet ride." Yes, to them, we are adults and I suppose we are too. Today we head to the Ridgeway Craft Fair where Aunt Robin sells her big and beautiful Southwest Jewelry. Sonnet now stresses to get us out of the hotel ("can't you do something to help us get out of here?" she pleads just now, angrily). And so I go, brother. We are outta here.

True Grit

Goudy: "How many men have you shot since you became a marshal, Mr. Cogburn?"
Rooster Cogburn: I never shot nobody I didn't have to.
Goudy: That was not the question. How many?
Rooster: Uh... shot or killed?
Goudy: Oh, let's restrict it to "killed" so we may have a manageable figure.

LaBoeuf: I wouldn't count too much on bein' able to shade somebody I didn't know, fella.
Rooster: I ain't never seen nobody from Texas I couldn't shade.

Rooster: Baby sister, I was born game and I intend to go out that way.

Ridgeway

We explore Ridgeway National Park which is about 7,000 feet and in Ourrey County not far from Ralph Lauren's ranch. The nearby San Juan Mountain Range has 14 of the 53 fourteeners (Fourteeners, Dear Mother, are mountains over 14,000 feet.) Among them, 14,150 foot (4,310 m) Mt Sneffel which is most prominent from our hike. The geography also notable for its layers - ridges - which back up against the blue sky offering various shades of color or darkness. The area is famous for the filming of John Wayne's "True Grit." There is a reservoir lake where we spend the mid-day and picnic then to the Stanfills for Stan's plum cake. Yum.

We take a vote the swimming pool and Madeleine exclaims "four to two - we win!" When I tell her perhaps she has her maths wrong she informs me that her two "buddies" (stuffed animals) cast the deciding votes.

I read V.S. Naipaul's "Among The Believers" which records his travels in the East shortly after the Iranian revolution. Naipaul is generally disdainful of Islam and worse, the fundamentalist who wish to return the region to its faith and yet are dependent on the West for technology, medicines and remittances. Our Pakistan fairs poorly and described as a country founded on hate: of foreigners and Hindus. Politics and progress sacrificed to faith and hence the perpetual ongoing military rule despite attempts at Democracy. The poet Mohammad Iqbal whose vision of an independent state for the Muslims of British India inspired the nation - yet he is criticised for denying the peaceful co-existence of Hindus and Muslim. Not all Pakistanies subscribe to Iqbal of course and when we were there in '97 many were openly afraid of the Sunni Islamists in Afghanistan (the Taliban) who had taken power in '96. Now they are in Pakistan's mountains.

Stars And Stripes

"My belief is we will, in fact, be greeted as liberators."
Dick Chaney, March 16, 2003

"We do not torture."
George Bush, November 13, 2005

Gunnison River

We visit Black Canyon, where a sign post tells us:

"Over a billion years ago, molten rock was squeezed into fissures forming the light-colored bands which form Black Canyon's otherwise dark walls. You are standing on one of these bands. As the hot fluid slowly cooled and hardened, minerals formed into crystals. Look closely; you may recognise flecks of mica, feldspar, quartz, and perhaps even garnet.

"These bands of lighter colored igneous rock - called pagmatite dikes - are more resistant to erosion than the dark gneissis (sounds like 'nice-es') into which they introdude. Consequently the pegmatite weathers more slowly then the gneiss. The vertical position of the dikes here, combined with their resistance to weathering, has produced the fin-like appearance of parts of the canyon's walls. You will see pegmatite at almost every overlook.

"The pegmatite dike you see across the canyon nearly half a mile away is the same one you are standing on! Imagine the cutting power of the Gunnison River."

Spectacle(s)

Madeleine and I spend the afternoon together. More correctly, I beg her to join me at the Coffee Trader and she agrees only after being promised a treat (Sonnet stays with Eitan who watches a ManU video). At CT I suggest we go to buy sun glasses for me and she immediately pipes in "great! I need new glasses too." We argue a bit and I hold up three fingers -she replies "four!" and so it goes. At the optometrists, Madeleine picks out a green, octagonal pair - no indecisiveness here (the lens BTW are non-refracting). After the spectacles we go to Silver's hair salon and again she has a vision: short on the side with a fringe - which BTW I learn was verboten by Sonnet sometime earlier. The whole thing looks, well, a little Harry Potter-ish which seems reasonable as the kids have been listening to Harry every night since, like, forever.

Madeleine announces she is the Number One student in her class. Eitan, from back seat and side of mouth: "yeah, right."

Hotel

Here is the boy in front of the Red Arrow in Montrose. We have a "suite" which gives us plenty of room to spread out. Mountain views comprehensive. It is family style fer sur and we are groovy. Sonnet will run tomorrow morning and gets out her kit. We plan on Telluride for the day tomorrow.

Any Day

Here are the kids in the dying light - I promise one last swim before bedtime. This shot taken moments before Madeleine pushes Eitan in - water quite cold - and he scrapes his bottom on the pool side. He screams and Madeleine does the natural thing - runs to her room and peeks out the window corner. I pull Eitan out and take him indoors and under the sheets. His pride hurt, that's all. My day begins trying to get my US Robotics USB phone to work with Skype. It doesn't. My day ends plugging in a VCR to watch the Soprano's. After much agitation, it does. In the middle we goof around, buy some books and crapola, go to the Montrose pool where Silver swims every morning, crack of the dawn. In short - just like any family holiday: we spend a lot of dough, get irritated with each other, have some fun, see the grand-parents and then hotel together for Harry Potter and late bedtime. I plan to stay up most of the night watching the final season of my favorite mobsters. Long over-due, Dear Reader, long over. Due.

PS: Eitan has a water-gun which he now points at me for this photo.

Montrose

We pull into Montrose following a six hour drive over the mountains ("Are we there yet dad? Are we there yet dad? Are we there yet dad? Are we there yet dad?.. . . "). We cross Monarch Pass, or the highest point, in a mountain rain-storm and have sympathy for cyclists, poor souls. We stop off at the Coyote Cafe, where we have been before at Highway 24 & 285. Our waiter Jennifer tells me she is from Minnesota and her husband New Jersey. After 9/11 they drove to Colorado and have never considered leaving. The idea of London is fascinating to her, as is the kid's accents. In similar vain, I speak to a check-out gal at Targets who is in her granny years - she is going to London with a tour group this month "but we won't stay there too long 'cuz it is so expensive." Instead her group will head to Stoke-On-Trent to see the pottery (I was not aware it is a centre) and I recommend the V&A and Courdault Art Institute. I buy the kid a stack of comics at the gas-station thinking it will be a distraction and yes, you guessed it, they fight bloody hell for certain issues - Spider Man and Fantastic Four seem to be the favorites. So yes, a distraction.

I nap at the pool yesterday and Eitan places a cheetoh under my nose to see if I will wake. "Dad it was there for like 20 seconds" he giggles. And apparently a large crowd amused too.

Eitan jonses for a football so we go to Walmart at 9PM after visiting Stan and Silver for dinner. He practices his ball-control skills in the isle. He has been on-edge for his Manchester United DVDs which arrived chez Stanfill earlier.

Thea

Here is Thea in front of her house in Dinner. She belongs to Whitney and Frank and has grown considerably since we saw her last. While the boys are at Coors stadium, the girls go for the mall and pizza and ice cream. Madeleine loads up and is satiated and content - I find her sprawled on the bed watching Harry Potter. It is 10PM, Dear Reader, or two hours past bed-time. We are on the summer program for sure. Sonnet packs madly as we prepare to drive over the Rockies, cresting at 12,000 feet. It is a scenic drive which we have done before - the reward is a natural s spring pool which I believe at 125 meters is the longest pool in the United States and grandparents. Eitan is way-excited for some Manchester United videos he knows await him in Montrose. The moving circus moves along.

Madeleine asks me to write our nanny Natasha: "When you come to our house (to check on things) could you please look after Astra because I did not manage to take her in my back-pack. She was too big. Love Madeleine" (Astra is a stuffed animal)

First Baseball

We are in Denver following a 6AM flight requiring a 3AM wake-up. Oh boy. We visit Beecher and daughter Whitney, who is Sonnet's cousin. She has two children who are super cute - ages 4 and 2 - and we spend the afternoon at the pool where the kids splash for five hours. Nothing new here. The evening highlight for the boys is baseball: Rockies v. The Senators at Coors Field. Eitan has never seen the game before and is excited - his eyes big when he sees the field for the first time on a perfect evening. Bill treats us and Whitney's husband Frank and we sit around shooting the bull and eating hot-dogs. Eitan, for the record, polishes off a slushie, hot-dog and fires, strawberry cone and candy floss (cotton candy). His face is covered in it and he is one happy boy. He keeps his concentration for most of the game but by the 7th it is all over. Besides, our side is losing and it is past bed-time. Including Eitan.

Eitan introduces a new game: fighting with hands-behind-back. Madeleine jumps in and the idea is to kick and trip-up the opponent, ie, dad. This lasts for about a minute or until the pain of a direct hit sinks in and I find myself scrambling. Away. In. Fear.

Madeleine: "I just kicked your bo-uls" (balls)

My Wife

Here is everything I could ever want in a woman (in front of "8" at Indian Spa Resort). I learn London BTW is wet, like pouring. Last year's August was the rainiest on record so this would seem to be a good month to be gone from the UK. Moe is preparing his spaghetti tonight and the kids complaining about their bath - the first, I might add, in several days. I tell Eitan if he doesn't argue it, I will buy him all sorts of crap at tomorrow's baseball game: "I scratch your back dude, and you scratch mine." He replies calmly: "YOU planned the baseball game so actually it does not count." I then cut to the quick: "if YOU don't do the bath now I will get your grandfather involved" which seems to do the trick.

Mary and Amado

The kids arrive yesterday in a stretch-limo, thank you very much. We are excited to see them but I must say: I did not miss them. I recall a Simpons episode where Homer and Marge have the weekend to themselves and Homer loses his beer-belly, grows hair and becomes his former lothario. Of course it all reverts instantly when Bart et al return. Not that I feel like this, Dear Sister, but I have enjoyed time with our friends and beautiful Sonnet sans kids. The rest of our weekend is poolside or at Taylor's Refreshers which is the Gold-Star in hamburgers and '50s comfort food.

Driving to Berkeley after sad good-byes, the kids holler at the top of their lungs. I allow them to do so until I don't. Now they race around the backyard with Gracie who blasts them with the lawn-hose. They are momentarily fascinated by ants. Tomorrow head for Denver on a 6AM flight: bru-tal. Grace suggests we send the kids to bed dressed. Not a bad a idea.

Wine

Here she is at the Silverado winery. Sloan co-founded Sextant Partners, a successful executive placement firm which services the private equity and high finance communities. Today she contemplates her next business opportunity, which targets a similar theme, and we are all happy to provide our two-cents. She does have some expert advisors if I may say so myself: four MBAs including Mary who is Partner at strategy consulting firm Boston Consulting Group (a fun moment occurred at the Shramsburg Vineyards whilst tasting "sparkling wine" - in our group was a young fellow who had finished his PhD in molecular biology. Mary notes her firm hires PhDs "all the time" and encourages him to send her a resume. Cool.) Sloan contemplates her start-up against other commitments like school and family, but I think she is prepared to launch and I/we are all excited to see where it goes. Husband Rob founded successful a trade finance business. Bravo.

Napa

Friday morning we drop off the kids with Sloan and Rob's nanny and, sans kids, drive to Napa for a day of wine tasting and adult time. We meet Mary and Amado at the Indian Springs Resort, which exists since the 1920s and has both a family and movie star feel - there is a 33 meter pool with natural spring water and shaded lounge areas for the bathers. Cooled spring water, spiked with cucumbers and lemons, is found about everywhere and Sonnet and I indulge in afternoon messages. This after a day in the vineyards, mind you, so we are pretty er relaxed. Sloan organised this weekend to celebrate various 40th birthdays and we dine at Martini, a famous local where we drink more champagne.

Napa is an obvious pleasure source for those living in or around the Bay Area. Strangely, I did not explore here often growing up - perhaps due to the Bear Valley house or state drinking age - by the time I was legal, I was gone. The obvious striking thing here is the weather, which is hot and dry (it is POURING rain in London BTW). Evenings cool down so the climate year-round temperate and ideal in summer. Then there are the grapes, which fill every nook and cranny of everywhere. Spotting the valley are the wine houses, second or third homes and restaurants like Tra Vigne and Auberge du Soleil. Not surprisingly outside St Helena is the Culinary Cooking Institute of America and we present a collective bow as we drive by. I spent two years in Sonoma at Help The World See and while Sonoma has excellent wine and its own valley flava, it does not match Napa for le chique and style.

Pizza and The A's

We visit Guy and Jeanine, Wookie and Moxie in Piedmont. We are treated with a wonderful dinner including perhaps the best pizza I have ever had. It turns out that the chef - Roger, and married to Umi and Guy/Jeanine's adopted daughter - cooks otherwise for Pizzaiolo. Pizzaiolo was started by ex-Chez Penise and is one of the hot new East Bay restaurants where Christian and I went last week before the Fiest concert. Beforehand, Roger flips the dough for the kids who love it. The adults talk about various stuff - Guy owns a big chunk of the Oakland A's so I am keen to know when the baseball team will move to Fremont (or San Jose). He is also advising the Democratic Party on security and other issues and the stories always fascinating. Before dinner we drink Chardonnay while the kids splash about in the pool and play with the pups. Madeleine tells Jeanine she too will have a dog "when I am a teenager", which is about right I think.

Sonnet and I have a free hour to walk around Berkeley and do some chores &c. We go to Andronico's which has the most amazing produce - the fruit & veg section explodes colour and there are 15 varieties of tomatoes. This rivals even France I think (Andronico's used to be the Berkeley Co-op BTW which was an experiment in communal purchasing and community). From there we go to stand-by's Black Oak Books, pass Chez Penise and end up at the original Pete's Coffee on Walnut Square (Eitan hovers over me as I write - he wants to watch Cristiano Ronaldo Top Ten Goals on Youtube. He also corrects my spelling of "Critiano Ronaldo). A real Berkeley stroll complete with mid-day coffee drinkers, a few hippie/derelects, elderly Berkley-ites and everybody enjoying the sunshine. A good vibe day.

Family Cabin

Here is the cabin I blog about now and before. 

It was built on one of the first lots in Bear Valley and modern. I talk to a telephone contractor who surveys the electrical wires, which Dear Brother, are all above ground. I ask why not under? and he tells me this is what they do now for new roads: cablie it beneath. The guy BTW surveying tree-growth as wires must be separated from foliage by four feet. This causes grumbling with property owners and a never-ending job for the telecoms. Despite this, the fellow I meet is pretty relaxed about things, wearing his khaki outfit and well-worn hiking boots. When I tell him he has the best job of anybody I know, he informs me his company hiring: "jobs online, dude!" he says. Tempting. Very tempting.

We leave this morning driving from the mountains to the sierra foothills then San Joaquin valley and finally East Bay. On the way we stop at Chevy's for lunch - honk! Mistake! Food blah and setting worse. Sonnet reminds me that Chevy's and places like Chevy's are meant for the post-work drinking hour and sure enough there is a separate menu just for margarita's. I am certain, once upon a time, there was a Chevy's in Baha California visited by California holiday makers who fell in love with the place. 

It was probably the only time many of them saw Mexicans. All these chains have some similar weird origin: Applebees, Steak & Ale, Hooter's... anything once good is totally lost in the franchise. Stan's favorite is the Olive Garden - as he says, "It is just awful." And there, my friend, you have it.

On Deck

Ah yes, here I am - a man in his prime. Still a few years from totally embarrassing my children. The day spent doing more-or-less the same: swimming - break - swimming - swimming - break - lunch - swimming and more swimming. And so it goes. Eitan and Madeleine never get enough. In the car, both hum the theme tune of Star Wars (Bum-bum-bum-bum-ba-dum-bum-ba-dum) until I turn around and yell: enough! Just like old days. I remember a fight between me and Katie in our teen years so vicious that Grace had to pull off the highway in Richmond near the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge. Grandma was in the driver's seat and quite shocked, I am sure (Remember that one, Katie?) On occasion I have considered taping a divisional line across the back-seat but usually the Shakespeares mind their Ps and Qs when I holler.

The fires around Yosemite are 40% contained, which is good news for the campers and evacuees. Evidently it was started by gun fire practice. I am reading a book on energy conservation and how we Americans can make a huge difference by doing little things: no running water while brushing teeth, turn off electronics after hours and do the compost thing. Moe has been doing this for at least 40 years BTW. Good lessons for us and the kids - most of my generation has no idea of their crapola and the planet. We gas, we shop, we eat - what is the source of this stuff that makes up our lives? and our connection to it? More immediately, what ever was in the red hot dog and ketchup the kids devoured at yesterday's Giant Burger? I am hard pressed to name even one item.

Giant Burger

The day ends at Giant Burgers in Arnold. GB has been around since at least '84 when we began coming up here. There used to be a Giant Burger chain and I recall one at Northside in Berkeley which is now long gone. In fact, I cannot recall having seen GB anywhere in the past 15 years. Sonnet comments that the cheese-burger with everything is American gastronomy. When we arrived in the UK hamburgers (called "beef burgers") were still a novelty and diners used fork and knife. Sacre bleu! The kids go with hot-dogs and ketchup+fries+shakes. Classic grease and good for them and us occassionally. Truth be told, I have not eaten fast-food in years but am not adverse to it - a Big Mac, afterall, is candy for adults.

New York - San Francisco - London

All of us together, again. This photo on the stump of the largest Sequoia in the world, which took over 90 days to chop BTW in 1885. We walk by the largest living Sequoia - General Sherman - which stands at 276 feet, has a 104 foot girth and a volume of 52,508 square feet. For the record: Sequoiadendron giganteum (Giant Sequoia, Sierra Redwood, or Wellingtonia) is the sole species in the genus Sequoiadendron, and one of three species of coniferous trees known as redwoods, classified in the family Cupressaceae in the subfamily Suquoioideae, together with Sequoia semperirens (Coast Redwood) and Metasequoia glyptostroboides (Dawn Redwood). The common names "sequoia" and "redwood" generally refer to Sequoiadendron and the coast redwood, respectively.

I get noticed at the pool BTW: "are you the guy with the orange cowboy hat?" a group of ladies asks. We discuss fashion - is the hat metro-sexual or homo? - either way, it is a complement. Poor Sonnet must adjust to my new style and, as I like to point out, "middle-age is all about not being boring."

North Grove

We walk the Big Trees Monday - many of these giants have been around before Jesus, for Christ's sake. A photo is difficult to capture their enormity. The sign-post next to the largest Seqouia in the North Grove says:

“In the spring of 1882, Augustus T. Dowd, while hunting, discovered a grove of truly immense trees, now known as Calaveras North Grove. Several stockholders of the Union Water Company (who employed Augustus as a hunter) developed a plan to display in New York and other cities, a piece of the largest of the trees. Many people, however, were outraged at the cutting of the tree, Dowd among them. The tree was felled, sections of the bark and a slab were shipped to New York City, and the entire promotion was a failure."

"The stump and remaining log became a tourist attraction. The stump was used as a dance floor, and later was the foundation for a pavilion. A bowling alley and bar were constructed on the top of the log.

"The stump continues to be an attraction to thousands of park visitors annually. It is a testament to the longevity of theses redwood trees that the stump and log are still here after more than 150 years (since the groves discover)”

Bell Bottoms

Moe is wearing them. Purchased BTW in '89. Who would have ever thought so stylish? A nice thing about the kids now is swimming - they can do it so we don't have to watch them or watch them at least as closely. This frees up time for Star and People magazines, the occasional Cosmo (me) and other rags left by the pool. Sonnet is now on Harry Potter's third book which she reads patiently (and pleasurably) to the entranced Shakespeares.

The Cost Of A Shower

Pictured- Sloan and Mary at cocktail hour. It is generally understood that while Dad is on vacation, Dad is also working (couple hours maybe) and blogging (too much really). Eitan and I play ping pong and he berates me: "you should have got that one." I give him a mean look and he glares back at me. Yes, he be competitive. And stubborn. Last night we had a kerfuffle over bathing- again. He refuses and I tell him ten bucks - the established going rate from the day before. The boy is so angry he can barely contain himself and refuses me money or bath. It ends with a stare-down and I tell him I want $10 as he has made his decision. We are locked eyes for maybe 30 seconds which is a long time Dear Father. He finally wavers then asks Sonnet to help him undress. I feel this a moment of some importance as Eitan has been testing his boundaries which has been rather difficult going - and out of his character too, I might add. While I may or may not have proved myself an above average father, at least the kid is clean. For now anyway.

Jump! and Stockton

Sophie takes a splash, which I shoot from the lake, treading water and hoping I do not drop the camera Adam-style (but this another, more expensive story, oh boy). Sophie and I have a romance as she gives me her attention and chooses to take our SUV (the boys are generally teaming up against the girls - an age thing really). Indeed, we are a caravan of three enormous rides and I feel momentarily guilty about the carbons but somehow appeased by the number of people and goods transported. Plus it is vacation, for Pete's sake. We ride into town looking like a presidential motorcade and I think about Detroit's dying days: an hour at 60MPH and 30 miles per gallon at today's gas prices means 10 bucks which is more than the minimum wage. No wonder Toyota taking over the roads - and thank goodness too. The real pinch, and one reason for the sub-prime collapse in outer areas like Stockton, is the cost of a commute. Unfortunately affordable housing for many in the Bay Area comes with a two hour+ trade-off - this may no longer be tenable for those already stretched and so the commuters split leaving their under-water house behind. Driving through Stockton (which BTW is presented, along with Florida, as the center of the housing crises fiasco) one sees endless rows of same-style properties. I rather like Stockton's simple, historical skyline but the 'burbs are ghastly. And now they are becoming empty.

Coronas

Madeleine knows how to pose (I think). Anyway the kids think alcohol tastes "gross, dad" and I get a barrel of grief from the Shakespeares about my beer drinking ways. Recall, Dear Mother, that Eitan and I had a bet some years ago that he would stop sucking his thumb if I stopped drinking beer. Well, I am caught out on this deal but argue lamely that the bet had a statute of limitations which has run out. When that does not work, I tell them dad's prerogative given life seniority. When that fails too of course I use the time tested fall-back: "we adults have different rules."

Sitting by the pool, Eitan tells me: "You will get a punch if you drink my Diet Coke."

Madeleine, who has watched Star Wars Episodes IV, V and VI these past few days, asks me: "Dad, is it true that you have The Force?" When I tell her yes, it is true, she continues: "do you want to go to The Dark Side too?"

There is definitely at summer vibe at the Big Trees rec centre and always a sexual frisson between the life guards, all teen-agers toned and tan. Sonnet and I (mostly I) observe the flirting and looking - I recall too the cocoon. It is reasonably clear who is having a summer romance or at least who is into whom. There ain't much else here for young people's pleasures, for sure - but life is good when it is not boring.

Beer Drink'n Fun

On Rob's most excellent suggestion we drive to the lower mountains to visit New Melones Reservoir on the Stanislaus River in the California Central Valley, or about 60 miles upstream from the river's confluence with the San Joaquin River. This point forms the border between Calaveras County and Tuolumne County, home of Yosemite. It is about 30 miles or so from our cabin. The reservoir is huge - 2,400,000 acre-foot capacity - making it California's third largest. The stoppage was formed by the New Melones Dam, which was completed in '78 and built by the US Bureau of Reclamation for flood control and, of course, water skiing or tubing. I learn that the lake's depth is about 1,080 feet and now, thanks to the drought, is 100 feet below normal. It feeds the San Joaquin valley, the world's most productive agricultural land and without H-2-O a desert. We rent two boats for skiing and beer-drinking while the kiddies swim, jump and ride the day away. By the afternoon everybody beat-red (despite 50 sun-block) and happily exhausted. Sonnet stands up on her first pair of water skies and has the thrill of her life time... after me, of course. We agree: our white trash day a huge success.