Steve and I couldn’t figure out where to spend our three day Memorial Day weekend. Not on the Front Range, not too far from Colorado… We had debated the Picketwire Canyonlands, in the vicinity of the Comanche National Grasslands. That area has some of the oldest dinosaur fossils in the world and would be fun to hike and camp. We decided, though, to head to Crested Butte with two other couples to hike, mountain bike and watch our friend Kris race in the Gunnisson Growler.
The weather forecast was rain, rain, rain. That’s ok! Adventure! I love road trips because you don’t have to worry about filling those ridiculously small travel containers of shampoo, pulling a deltoid because you refuse to check your luggage and haul it all through security, or cram your purse and laptop under the seat in front of you. Not to mention the planning part. On a road trip, there’s minimal planning involved. You can shove your stuff in the back of the Jeep and take off. I’m especially lucky because I don’t have to drive. Anyway, Steve, Schivonne, Kris and I shoved in our four mountain bikes, two tents, four mats, four sleeping bags, four backpacks, one cooler, numerous 6-packs of beer, four camping chairs, blankets, pillows, fly rods, and other camping necessities. Emphasis on shove!
So on the road, eating pasta salad and cookies, we sang songs and shared dark secrets. You can’t do that on a plane – someone will inevitably hear you. It rained our entire trip down to CB, and was still raining when we arrived at our camp spot, at 10:00 p.m. We rolled up to our secret camping spot on National Forest land, right outside of Crested Butte. We were still excited about camping, completely dry, and didn’t mind setting up camp and bearing with the weather. (Kind of like how you can always tell that a waitress is new – she’s still smiling, eager to help, and happy to be there.) So we slid in the mud, slipped on corn lilies, and set up camp. It was still raining.