steamboat: the maiden voyage
January 26-28, 2018
We wasted no time in setting a date to head off on our first camper van excursion. The mattress pad had been adorned with a nice flannel sheet, four Home Depot milk crates were packed full of cooking supplies, the cooler was bursting with breakfast tacos, and the roof pod was loaded down with ski gear.
OFF TO STEAMBOAT, COLORADO WE GO!
We set off after work Friday evening once the dog, Julep, had gorged herself on a dinner of PetSmart's finest kibble. We barely had our feet out the door, however, when we were stopped in Denver's beautiful nightly traffic. Julep was already deep into her food coma and snoring wildly - I guess puppy's don't mind traffic when they have a mattress, pillows, and blankets to curl up on. Andre and I passed the time by installing the old school music adaptor he had purchased for our maiden voyage. I don't even know what to call the thing... Do you remember those little FM transmitters that you plugged into the car and had to match with a fuzzy radio station? If you did that, it would play music from another gadget of your choice. It would play music that is, until it was overpowered by static or some unexpected Mariachi music hiding between radio stations. The 2018 updated version of this thing allows your music to play via BlueTooth! Yes, we do realize just how fashionably high-tech we are.
Due to our late start that evening and the never-ending traffic, we knew that we would only make it part of the way to Steamboat. Maybe I should rephrase this with the truth and say that we were just really, really excited to test out our new overnight set-up. As we ditched the overflowing lanes of i-70 and cruised through Silverthorne onto Highway 9, we felt the temperature begin to slowly drop... and drop... and drop.
Ute Pass looked to be a promising nighttime docking station. We were near the big, old Henderson Mine when we found a nice, very snowy, pull-out to park in. The stars were shining and we eagerly jumped out of the truck to look at the beauty we were surrounded by. NOPE! Straight back into the truck we flew. It was FRIGID. Star gazing would just have to wait for another night when temperatures weren't so deadly. Peeing in the middle of the night was sure going to be fun...
As it turned out, the entire night in the truck felt just as cold and unbearable as if I had actually spent the night outside in the deep snow with my pants down, waiting to take a pee. Frozen butt, frozen toes, frozen soul. The temperature had dropped to a lovely 3 degrees that Friday night and I was sleeping in a 40+ degree sleeping bag! I was missing a very important 37 degrees of warmth and comfort from my pale green REI bag. I have loved that sleeping bag since High School, but upon hearing about my continuous state of shivering throughout that night, I was beginning to think that it was time to invest in a slightly heartier snoozing cocoon. I remember partially waking up throughout that night and each time flinging my body around to face Andre, pushing and poking him much too hard on his shoulder and whispering, "Are you still alive?" I was convinced that we wouldn't survive. Or if we did, come into the morning with a few blackened toes.
But hooray! 5:00am rolled around and we both simultaneously levitated out of our bags toward a small propane heater we had begrudgingly purchased from Walmart. This would surely mend our freezer burnt bodies! As Andre attached the propane tank and fiddled with the lighter, I proceeded to shove multiple packs of toe warmers into my socks even though it clearly states, 'do not place directly on skin.' Rules really are only meant to be followed when you are warm and comfortable. The heater was taking forever to ignite, thanks Walmart. The longer it took, the more I found myself glaring at the dog, snuggled up in her down blanket, still snoring, completely unaware of our misery. Finally, the heater began to work and we shoved our feet, hands and faces toward the flame as fast as two people could move without actually having feeling in any one body part. Steam rolled off of our socks and flew out the cracked window behind us. We both let out a long sigh as the warmth began to invade our extremities, quickly followed by wincing and grumbling as the painful pricks and tingles of regaining feeling began to take over.
Once we had warmed up it was time to get the camp stove set up outside. We hyped each other up as we bundled into all of our warm gear and slowly slid out the side door. It was cold, but bearable. Thank goodness. We got some water boiling for coffee and a few breakfast tacos cooking, while Julep took a quick pee and eagerly hopped back inside the truck. We enjoyed our breakfast inside as we fired up Forest and cranked up the defrost. Well, well, well... It turns out that Forest had accumulated a very thick layer of solid ice on the three front inside windows. This is definitely a problem in need of a solution for our future trips.
We headed out a while later toward Steamboat, eager about the great day of skiing that was waiting for us. We drove into a spectacular view of the Gore Range and, for a moment, the unpleasant adventures of that night seemed all too worth it.
Steamboat, never failing to deliver, provided us with a day full of great runs, tumbles and all (okay... the tumbles were all mine - Andre always seems to stay on his feet). Even though the groomed runs were packed down and icy, we found some soft, deep snow throughout the trees and vowed to keep ourselves there all day long. After exhausting ourselves in powder, we hunkered down for some superb burgers at Back Door Grill in town - by far the best spot I've eaten at in Steamboat. Once our bellies were bursting (and happy), we headed out of town towards Strawberry Hot Springs - the very BEST way to end a full day of skiing, as if the burgers weren't enough! It was after dark and the springs were packed with screaming college girls and naked hippy dudes. We diligently plugged our ears and averted our eyes as we found a little corner of the pool to cuddle up in and sip on our HydroFlask of forbidden wine we had smuggled in.
Once our limbs were warm and loose, we made our groggy exit from the pools. Things were getting rowdy but we were unapologetically ready for bed. I will now spare you the details of my preceding nauseous state as my body adjusted from the steamy heat of the springs to the brisk winter outside. I will, however, insert here how sweet Andre (ever patient) coaxed me into my sweats and up the slippery walk to the car by the soft glow of his headlamp. These are the kinds of moments when I find myself continuing to fall more deeply in love with him.
We bumped our way along the snowy road until we reached Buff Pass, the final destination for our second night of project Truck Sleepover. We tucked ourselves in at the far end of an abandoned parking lot next to the docking station for Steamboat Powdercats. Oh, how lovely and mild the temperature felt this night! We fell asleep in light layers of clothes and enjoyed a full night of feeling in our noses, fingers and toes.
Our great night of sleep was abruptly interrupted at one point, however, to a car engine and some very loud, slurred hoops and hollers outside. I sat straight up in my sleeping bag and yelled something about how we were going to die or possibly even be eaten. Andre, always the picture of serenity, just patted my back until I stiffly reclined back onto my pillow. Agitated, I tried to secretly peal back the Reflectix taped to the window to see what was happening outside.
Teenagers.
Some drunk teens were doing donuts in the parking lot while one doofus sat on a plastic sled that was attached to the back of their parents' suburban. After a while, I allowed their belligerent screaming to fade to the back of my mind and act as a soothing, drunken lullaby. At least I was cozy and warm tonight. I checked one last time to make sure that Andre was still breathing and then settled back into sleep.
The next day we attached skins to our skis and set off with the dog for a little touring around Buff Pass. It was a beautiful day, the kind that Colorado is known for. Sunny, blue skies, light breeze and just the right amount of chilly. We followed winding ski tracks up a hill through pines and groves of Aspen. I am proud to say that I only had a few minor frustrated break downs when I found myself sliding down the hill during the steepest points instead of climbing up with ease, like Andre was doing. I haven't skied with skins many times yet and we discovered that mine were a bit narrow for my skis, making it harder to get a good grip uphill - this is my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I will take responsibility, however, for a very small "tantrum" of sorts when I mysteriously lost a glove. It turns out I accidentally covered it with snow while trying to reapply my skins at one point, but in the moment I was convinced there was some weird voodoo magic at play and was ready to proceed with one naked hand.
All in all, our backcountry adventure that day was wonderful. We hit some great snow and even found a small rock face to maneuver off of. The dog was happy, bounding over the snow behind us and our legs were wonderfully exhausted by the afternoon. As we drove back into Denver, inhaling stale pretzels, we agreed that life was good in our mobile ski rig. We had a lot of kinks to work out in our system, but the projects and the adventures would be well worth it. And boy did we need to work them out because we had a big week long trip planned for February...
 |
| Julep, enjoying her "cave" |
Due to our late start that evening and the never-ending traffic, we knew that we would only make it part of the way to Steamboat. Maybe I should rephrase this with the truth and say that we were just really, really excited to test out our new overnight set-up. As we ditched the overflowing lanes of i-70 and cruised through Silverthorne onto Highway 9, we felt the temperature begin to slowly drop... and drop... and drop.
Ute Pass looked to be a promising nighttime docking station. We were near the big, old Henderson Mine when we found a nice, very snowy, pull-out to park in. The stars were shining and we eagerly jumped out of the truck to look at the beauty we were surrounded by. NOPE! Straight back into the truck we flew. It was FRIGID. Star gazing would just have to wait for another night when temperatures weren't so deadly. Peeing in the middle of the night was sure going to be fun...
As it turned out, the entire night in the truck felt just as cold and unbearable as if I had actually spent the night outside in the deep snow with my pants down, waiting to take a pee. Frozen butt, frozen toes, frozen soul. The temperature had dropped to a lovely 3 degrees that Friday night and I was sleeping in a 40+ degree sleeping bag! I was missing a very important 37 degrees of warmth and comfort from my pale green REI bag. I have loved that sleeping bag since High School, but upon hearing about my continuous state of shivering throughout that night, I was beginning to think that it was time to invest in a slightly heartier snoozing cocoon. I remember partially waking up throughout that night and each time flinging my body around to face Andre, pushing and poking him much too hard on his shoulder and whispering, "Are you still alive?" I was convinced that we wouldn't survive. Or if we did, come into the morning with a few blackened toes.
But hooray! 5:00am rolled around and we both simultaneously levitated out of our bags toward a small propane heater we had begrudgingly purchased from Walmart. This would surely mend our freezer burnt bodies! As Andre attached the propane tank and fiddled with the lighter, I proceeded to shove multiple packs of toe warmers into my socks even though it clearly states, 'do not place directly on skin.' Rules really are only meant to be followed when you are warm and comfortable. The heater was taking forever to ignite, thanks Walmart. The longer it took, the more I found myself glaring at the dog, snuggled up in her down blanket, still snoring, completely unaware of our misery. Finally, the heater began to work and we shoved our feet, hands and faces toward the flame as fast as two people could move without actually having feeling in any one body part. Steam rolled off of our socks and flew out the cracked window behind us. We both let out a long sigh as the warmth began to invade our extremities, quickly followed by wincing and grumbling as the painful pricks and tingles of regaining feeling began to take over.
Once we had warmed up it was time to get the camp stove set up outside. We hyped each other up as we bundled into all of our warm gear and slowly slid out the side door. It was cold, but bearable. Thank goodness. We got some water boiling for coffee and a few breakfast tacos cooking, while Julep took a quick pee and eagerly hopped back inside the truck. We enjoyed our breakfast inside as we fired up Forest and cranked up the defrost. Well, well, well... It turns out that Forest had accumulated a very thick layer of solid ice on the three front inside windows. This is definitely a problem in need of a solution for our future trips.
 |
| Something is wrong with this picture |
We headed out a while later toward Steamboat, eager about the great day of skiing that was waiting for us. We drove into a spectacular view of the Gore Range and, for a moment, the unpleasant adventures of that night seemed all too worth it.
 |
| The Gore Range |
Steamboat, never failing to deliver, provided us with a day full of great runs, tumbles and all (okay... the tumbles were all mine - Andre always seems to stay on his feet). Even though the groomed runs were packed down and icy, we found some soft, deep snow throughout the trees and vowed to keep ourselves there all day long. After exhausting ourselves in powder, we hunkered down for some superb burgers at Back Door Grill in town - by far the best spot I've eaten at in Steamboat. Once our bellies were bursting (and happy), we headed out of town towards Strawberry Hot Springs - the very BEST way to end a full day of skiing, as if the burgers weren't enough! It was after dark and the springs were packed with screaming college girls and naked hippy dudes. We diligently plugged our ears and averted our eyes as we found a little corner of the pool to cuddle up in and sip on our HydroFlask of forbidden wine we had smuggled in.
Once our limbs were warm and loose, we made our groggy exit from the pools. Things were getting rowdy but we were unapologetically ready for bed. I will now spare you the details of my preceding nauseous state as my body adjusted from the steamy heat of the springs to the brisk winter outside. I will, however, insert here how sweet Andre (ever patient) coaxed me into my sweats and up the slippery walk to the car by the soft glow of his headlamp. These are the kinds of moments when I find myself continuing to fall more deeply in love with him.
We bumped our way along the snowy road until we reached Buff Pass, the final destination for our second night of project Truck Sleepover. We tucked ourselves in at the far end of an abandoned parking lot next to the docking station for Steamboat Powdercats. Oh, how lovely and mild the temperature felt this night! We fell asleep in light layers of clothes and enjoyed a full night of feeling in our noses, fingers and toes.
Our great night of sleep was abruptly interrupted at one point, however, to a car engine and some very loud, slurred hoops and hollers outside. I sat straight up in my sleeping bag and yelled something about how we were going to die or possibly even be eaten. Andre, always the picture of serenity, just patted my back until I stiffly reclined back onto my pillow. Agitated, I tried to secretly peal back the Reflectix taped to the window to see what was happening outside.
Teenagers.
Some drunk teens were doing donuts in the parking lot while one doofus sat on a plastic sled that was attached to the back of their parents' suburban. After a while, I allowed their belligerent screaming to fade to the back of my mind and act as a soothing, drunken lullaby. At least I was cozy and warm tonight. I checked one last time to make sure that Andre was still breathing and then settled back into sleep.
The next day we attached skins to our skis and set off with the dog for a little touring around Buff Pass. It was a beautiful day, the kind that Colorado is known for. Sunny, blue skies, light breeze and just the right amount of chilly. We followed winding ski tracks up a hill through pines and groves of Aspen. I am proud to say that I only had a few minor frustrated break downs when I found myself sliding down the hill during the steepest points instead of climbing up with ease, like Andre was doing. I haven't skied with skins many times yet and we discovered that mine were a bit narrow for my skis, making it harder to get a good grip uphill - this is my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I will take responsibility, however, for a very small "tantrum" of sorts when I mysteriously lost a glove. It turns out I accidentally covered it with snow while trying to reapply my skins at one point, but in the moment I was convinced there was some weird voodoo magic at play and was ready to proceed with one naked hand.
 |
| Buff Pass |
All in all, our backcountry adventure that day was wonderful. We hit some great snow and even found a small rock face to maneuver off of. The dog was happy, bounding over the snow behind us and our legs were wonderfully exhausted by the afternoon. As we drove back into Denver, inhaling stale pretzels, we agreed that life was good in our mobile ski rig. We had a lot of kinks to work out in our system, but the projects and the adventures would be well worth it. And boy did we need to work them out because we had a big week long trip planned for February...
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