6000feet

Here’s a question for you: What do you get when you mix power tools, a suburban garage, and some generally boring weekends?

Answer: barely-functional homemade furniture!

And so it was that about a year ago, I became an amateur carpenter.  I’ve made some really terrible projects, like the bookshelf that had downhill-slanting shelves.  But recently, after a year of tinkering, I’ve finally started to get the hang of it.

I built a solid-oak desk that actually works, and actually looks ok.  (At least, I think so.  If you have a different opinion, you can keep it to yourself, thank you.)

I’m soliciting ideas for my next project.  If you have any thoughts, let me know.

[More pictures of this and other adventures can be found in the Photo Album, which is password-protected.  If you are a friend of ours, please email us and request a password!]

Every once in a while, for no apparent reason, some people question whether I am indeed a badass.  I don’t know what drives them to this conclusion; jealousy, perhaps.  Maybe it’s my slouch-ish attitude, or my documented fascination with napping.  In any event, from time to time some people have questioned whether I am a badass.

And so it was that in August 2008, I climbed to the top of Pikes Peak.  Again. This the second time I’ve done it.

Let’s be clear about two things.  First, climbing Pikes Peak is retarded.  It’s just retarded.  The trail is thirteen miles long.  The hike takes two days.  The elevation gain is 7400 feet; that’s about a mile and a half, vertical.  And at the top, at fourteen thousand one hundred ten feet, it’s hard to even breathe.  And you do all this with a backpack.  That’s just retarded.  There’s no other word to describe it.

But second, let’s be clear about something else: If you climb to the top of Pikes Peak, you are a badass.   You’re retarded, for sure, but you are a retarded badass, and that makes all the difference in the world.

Joining me this year on the Expedition were five other intrepid heroes seeking, as I was, to prove themselves both badass and retarded: Tom, Tim, Casey, Stacey and Rae.  Here’s a photo of the expeditionary force (note the grizzled captain there on the far right):

At dawn on Saturday, August 23 (ok… more like ten a.m. or so, after getting some McDonald’s), the Expedition sallied forth from Manitou Springs, Colorado, nestled in the shadow of the looming monster that is Pikes Peak.  (Even the name Pikes Peak sounds ominous, doesn’t it?)  We hiked scaled the gradually steeply ascending path, arriving at Barr Camp, at 10,800 feet, where we camped for the night with some other normal people mountaineers.  On Sunday afternoon, we intrepid heroes reached the 14,110 foot summit, where we ate donuts.  (Not kidding.)

This an epic adventure.  The trail begins by climbing through the amazing Pike National Forest, but when it breaks the treeline, just a few miles from the summit, you discover a whole new planet.  One minute, you’re in the forest, just minding your own business, listening to birds chirping.  The next, you’re overlooking the world.  As you sit on the trail, watching clouds roll over the rocky tundra, you think to yourself: This is retarded.

And, of course, badass.

[Editor's Note: Eileen wants me to point out that she has climbed Pikes Peak six times, and has also climbed more than a dozen other fourteen thousand foot peaks, including two of them in the same day.  But she's a showoff.]

[Editor's Note: More pictures of this and other adventures can be found in the Photo Album, which is password-protected.  If you are a friend of ours, please email us and request a password!]

My identical twin sister Emily, who is gorgeous, was in town a few weeks ago, and we decided to visit the nearby 14,130 foot summit of Mt. Evans.  Driving up the mountain is kinda tricky, so Joe was kind enough to offer his expert piloting skills.  When we reached the peak, Emily and I explored the summit and left Joe by himself for just a few minutes…

That was a bad idea.  When we found Joe, he was face to face with a mountain goat.  Apparently Mama Goat was quite concerned that Joe was getting a little too friendly with the baby goats.  “But they look like Darth Vader,” Joe said.  And yes, that’s true.  They do look like Vader, if Vader had horns.

  
In the end, the encounter with the mountain goat was no big deal.  Mama Goat stared down Joe for a while, who resisted the temptation to give the goats a big hug.  We took some great photos at the summit, and then spent some time exploring the little mountain towns of Evergreen and Idaho Springs.  (The folks at the Little Bear Saloon know how to throw a party, let me tell you.)  Days like this are why Colorado is so great.

[More pictures of this and other adventures can be found in the Photo Album, which is password-protected.  If you are a friend of ours, please email us and request a password!]

Just when you thought it was safe to live in Suburbia comes a true tale of woe!  Eileen, Darth Vader and I were enjoying a lazy Sunday morning in the ‘burbs, when Eileen noticed something amiss in the neighborhood; “Uh… Joe,” she said, “there are like twenty police cars outside our house.”

True enough, the popo had invaded our quiet enclave.  Half a dozen or more squad cars lined the street, and uniformed officers paced back and forth with concerned looks on their faces.  This is, of course, abnormal.  Our neighborhood rarely sees any police presence, owing in large part to two undisputed facts: (1) We are essentially boring, and (2) There are no donut shops nearby.

Faced with such unusual excitement, Eileen and I did what any self-respecting neighbors would do: We set up lawn chairs, opened some beer, and settled in to watch whatever action was underway.

Turns out that the incident was far less exciting than anticipated, although the accounts vary.  According to one neighbor, a dude had been pacing around in his backyard in a menacing way with a loaded shotgun.  (Last I checked, the Second Amendment protected that behavior, but I digress.)  Another neighbor reported that a home down the street was a haven for drugs and prostitutes (or perhaps worse: Texans).  A more mundane account from a third neighbor was that a rabies-infected raccoon had been spotted in the area.

To this day, we don’t entirely know what happened.  All we know for sure is that the police eventually departed, empty-handed, and the home down the street is now for sale.  Rather than get to the bottom of it, I’m happy to imagine that our neighborhood is home to all kinds of nefarious activities.  Sometimes it’s more exciting to leave things to the imagination.

The important thing is that the police apparently weren’t coming for us.  At least, not yet.  Maybe next weekend.

[More pictures of this and other adventures can be found in the Photo Album, which is password-protected.  If you are a friend of ours, please email us and request a password!]

As winter rolls on, I know people get tired of snow. But you have to admit, it’s a heck of a lot of fun at the beginning. The first real snow of the year is always magical. That’s especially true for me, because as a dog, my memory is so pathetically short-term that I only vaguely remember what snow is in the first place. The first time I see it every year, I get to rediscover it all over again. That’s one of the nice things about being a dog: You can’t remember what happened yesterday, which makes every day a brand new adventure.

[Note: Tons more pictures of our snow day can be found in the Photo Album on this website. For privacy reasons, the Photo Album is protected by a password. If you are a friend of ours, please email us and request a password! ]

Our first real snowfall this year came on December 6, or so I’m told. (I’m not great with calendars.) Eileen and Joe got very excited, and we all ran outside to play. And let me tell you something: I may be small, but I am mighty, and I can fly. You don’t believe me? Check this out:

After we played in the snow, Eileen and Joe went crazy decorating the house for Christmas. The ornaments for the tree looked pretty tasty, so I tried to eat one. In retrospect, I admit it probably was inadvisable to eat an ornament. However, they do look a lot like candy, so it’s hard to feel bad. Joe yelled at me anyway, that curmudgeon. Eileen felt sorry about the incident, and gave me a few treats. Then Joe made an enormous orange thing apparently called a “fire”, and we all fell asleep. What a perfect day.

Tons more pictures of our snow day can be found in the Photo Album on this website. For privacy reasons, the Photo Album is protected by a password. If you are a friend of ours, please email us and request a password!

Labor Day is a great excuse for an excursion, especially when you’re married to a Travelholic like Eileen. I admit I was skeptical when she proposed visiting “the desert”, and for good reason: First, I said, isn’t the desert boring? (It’s the desert, which is the root word of deserted, meaning nothing there.) Second, I said, isn’t the desert like four billion degrees? Nonetheless, because my wife always gets what she wants, we loaded up the car and set forth on the Epic Labor Day 2007 Excursion to Moab, Utah.

[Note: Tons more pictures of our trip can be found in the Photo Album on this website. For privacy reasons, the Photo Album is protected by a password. If you a friend of ours, please email us and request a password! ]

Turns out I was right about my prediction that Utah would be four billion degrees in late August. In fact, it was more like five billion degrees. More than once, I was surprised the landscape didn’t instantly burst into flame. I was wrong, however, about the desert being deserted.

The word “magnificent” doesn’t do justice to the astonishing landscape of the American Southwest. Great mesas of rock and sand are dotted by incredibly steep canyons and tiers of stone, and the result is a breathtaking world of scarred earth that leaves you awe-struck and ultimately humbled.

Moab, a mecca for mountain bikers and off-roaders, is nestled between two massive national parks, called Arches and Canyonlands. If you have to choose, Canyonlands is the more beautiful of the two in my view, although Arches is probably more famous because it’s the home of “Delicate Arch”, the impossible-looking rock formation on the cover of virtually every American road atlas.

Both parks are astonishing. In Arches, rock formations teeter on top of one another, as if they’re about to fall over. There are over two thousand natural arches in Arches National Park, and the largest of them are hundreds of feet long. They’re so precarious that as you walk around them, you keep checking to make sure they’re not about to fall down on top of you. In one portion of the park, called “The Needles”, the landscape is a virtual pin-cushion of precarious rock formations over one hundred feet tall each. The pillars of stone are sometimes astonishingly top-heavy. I couldn’t resist naming one of them, pictured here, Penis Rock.

I think the Department of the Interior will be ok with that.

If you get tired of rocks (and you will) head over to Canyonlands, which is right next door, and prepare to be awe-struck by the breathtaking canyons. The landscape here is like an inverse mountain range; instead of going up, the land goes down, way down. Some of these canyons are thousands of feet deep. Sitting on the canyon rim, watching the world literally fall away in front of you, is actually quite moving, almost spiritual. You realize that this landscape was made millions of years before you were born, and will be around millions of years after you are gone. It makes you feel small and humbled just to see it, as if your entire life is but a blink of the eye to these stone gods. But it’s uplifting as well, that feeling of humility, because it reminds you that the daily struggles of life ultimately, in the end, aren’t worth a damn.

I’m no geologist, but apparently the breathtaking landscape is actually the result of a dead ocean that used to be here millions of years ago. As the North American continent rose to higher and higher elevations, the ocean became an inland sea, trapped and cut off from the Pacific. The climate turned warmer, the sea gradually evaporated, and the result was a world covered with salt. Gradually, the salt became compressed and unstable, and collapsed in huge hundred-mile swaths, cutting massive scars into the landscape that form the canyons, arches and teetering rock formations we see today. Wind and water did the rest of the work, rounding things out and literally sculpting this surreal world into a thing of beauty.

I won’t gush too much about the spiritual beauty of the desert, except to say this as a rookie newcomer who’s never been here before: Spend a moment at sunset in the desert, watching the red and orange hues melt into each other, listening to nothing but the sound of the wind, and you’ll find that peyote or not, the Navajo are on to something.

Of course, no Eileen-inspired trip would be complete without a fair amount of drinking, and this particular trip to Moab is no exception. This is Mormon country, so be sure to stock up before you go. Trust me, a couple of frothy Colorado micro-brewed chocolate stouts are a great way to wrap up a day spent roasting in the canyons.

Usually, the drive home from a great weekend trip is anti-climactic, but not this one. We took a winding route through the San Juan mountain range on the western slope of the Rockies, and discovered two things of note. The first is Mesa Verde National Park in southwestern Colorado, home of the ancient Anasasi Indians. The Anasasi are the first known inhabitants of North America, and they are infamous cliff-dwellers. While Europeans were still trying to figure out how to get a campfire going, these guys were building entire cities underneath the rocky canyon walls of the mountains.

The other notable discovery on the drive home was the mining town of Ouray, Colorado, called “Little Switzerland” because of its nestled location between several ridiculously tall mountains. The town has an ordinance that no new structures can be built that do not look precisely like the structures that existed over a century ago. The result is a time capsule so real that you feel absolutely out of place without spurs and a donkey. Eileen and I drink the night away in the Silver Eagle Saloon, and at one point I officially declare Ouray the Most Beautiful Town in America, and mean it. But for the lack of cell phone reception, I am two minutes away from quitting my job and moving here.

Tons more pictures of our trip can be found in the Photo Album on this website. For privacy reasons, the Photo Album is protected by a password. If you a friend of ours, please email us and request a password!

Welcome to 6000feet.com, the Internet home of Eileen, Joe & Darth Vader. Here, you will find updates on what we’re up to, and some photos of our nefarious adventures.

For privacy reasons, the photo album is password-protected. We will happily provide the password to any friends and family. Please email us at joe@6000feet.com, and we will grant you access to the photo album.

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Eileen, Joe & Darth Vader