We have officially been landed in the Pacific Northwest for a couple of days now, but the memories of our roadtrip from Colorado to Oregon are still strong. It was a great adventure, albiet a fast one, that will remain in the memory banks for a while.

Our trip went much like this: left Golden, CO, around noon Saturday on I-70 west, through the Eisenhower Tunnel (under the Continental Divide), through Vail Valley, Glenwood Canyon, and through Grand Junction. Once past Grand Junction, we hit Utah, where we continue on I-70 to Green River, then up State Highway 6 to I-15 north. It is getting dark by the time we hit highway 6, so all of Utah is done at night.

More routes and pics on the click.

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We made it from Golden to Idaho yesterday, and stopped in a rest area for a little nap a 3am. You can see exactly where we crashed out for the night by going here. Go to that link and zoom out. It is hard to believe that Ang and I are checking email from that location!!

The drive was pretty uneventful, save for one construction cone, one billion bugs on my windshield, and my nervousness driving over I-70 from Golden to Grand Junction. Driving this beast over the hill from Golden was not quite as bad as I thougth it was going to be, but there were two downhills that were white-knucklers.

It was, however, one on of the most beautiful drives ever. Going through Summit County, Vail valley, Glenwood Canyon, the mesas of Grand Junction. Beautiful. Would do it again in a minute.

Well, maybe a few minutes. Need to let my seat rest from the two 8-mile, 7% grade downhill puckers

--kev

And sadly leaving the kids too. We got to hang out quite a bit this trip, and I will miss them more than ever. While I won't miss the heat out here (and STILL the lack of a front A/C), I will miss the warmth of their love every day. It is comforting to know that I carry them with me in all of the travels of my life.

Ian - rockin the Bling hard!

The month or so out here has been completely awesome, riddled with a bit of frustration about our front air conditioner unit. Seems the unit took a dive on us somewhere between San Jose and Reno. We had stopped at a rest stop just this side of Donner Pass and decided it was a bit warm. We fired up the genny, then started up the front A/C. I see black puffs of smoke from the generator and know something is up. Appears the A/C just doesn't feel like playing anymore.

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My hopes and dreams were sent swirling down the Black Tank of Life today, all before noon. All it took was the simple phrase from the service manager - "No A/C for you!".

We have been waiting three weeks for our service appointment at Windish RV Center. Each day we mentally crossed off another day, excited for our day to get here. One less day of being in a 90 degree home. One less day until coolness.

I went to bed last night and had happy dreams. Dreams of me running through a field of wild flowers, hand in hand with a Dometic Duo-Therm 13.5k BTU air conditioner, skipping and laughing life's troubles away. Cool, gentle breezes blowing through our hair.

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As an FYI, here are a few things that are better suited to do when it is NOT in the triple digits: tearing apart one's wet bay, washing a 40' motorhome, excavating a very sloped back yard for an above ground pool. That ends up being the Sweat Trifecta.

Warning! Cute granddaughter picture!!

Peytyn is looking like she helped me with my weekend activities, but the above picture is just a cheap ploy to get you interested to see if there are any more cute pictures on the click. Sorry, there aren't - just more of me whining about the heat...

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Wait. Wrong commercial. I am sure there is one about water and Coors. Guess I should have gone with my alternate title: "My Life As A Carny".

Actually, the picture above is for my dad. While he is no longer with us, he lives forever in our hearts. In my dad's heart was Coors. I grew up seeing a Coors can in my dad's hand, and strategically placed (or nailed) can appeared in everything that he ever built. It was his trademark.

Love you, dad. Here is a picture of The Mothership for you.

More about beer, mountains, and my life as a carny on the click...

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Roxborough State Park, that is.

On our last day at Chatfield State Park, we decided to go for a hike at Roxborough. Rox is just up the street from Chatfield, and we already have a state park pass, so it was a no-brainer.

What a find this place was! It was only a few miles from Chatfield, but it was surprisingly empty. With only a couple of cars in the parking lot, it felt like we had the place all to ourselves. That feeling quickly evaporated when we found our friends above.

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Whoa. My baby girl got married on Saturday, 7/7/07. I am not sure I could have been more proud of her. What an honor it was walking her down the isle.

You can probably notice in the above picture that my heart was jumping out of my chest, and my pride was spilling over onto the church floor. I have experienced some wonderful things with my kids, but walking Arin down the isle was one of my great moments.

See more pictures of me in long pants on the Click...

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We met Rupert and Kathy at the Sparks Marina RV Park, and it was great finding something "real" in the land of fake grass. I had a few opportunities to talk with Rupert, and really enjoyed listening to his many stories. My only regret was that we weren't staying longer in Sparks - I would have loved to been able to hang out and talk to him more.

Rupert is a cool dood. He is a retired commercial fisherman, and when living in a stick house, resides on Maui. His truck and Harley carry Hawaii plates, which is not too common to see. They roll around on a couple of Segway Human Transporters, with their little dog Cookie hanging out in the basket. Rupert speaks fondly of the 60's and 70's - stories like seeing Jimi Hendrix play on the back of a flatbed trailer.

But, out of all that coolness, the part that created an instant connection is that they are Burners. Old Skool Burners.

That is the reason for the "Mahalo" in the subject of this post. Rupert reminded me what I loved so much about the Days in the Dust. He reminded me about the connections, the friendships, the like-minded people. He painted vivid pictures of life on the Playa, and about the memories he has of fellow Burners that he has met.

Rupert reset my brain, and I allowed me to put behind the expense, the dust, the work, the drive, the heat, the .... the what ever reason I can come up with to say I won't be going this year again. It was nice being re-connected to Burning Man without having to be out there. It made me want to go again.

Mahalo, Rupert. Hope to see you out there someday, and look forward to our paths crossing again.

--kev