Travels with Checkers*

8,000 miles on a Mini Journey

by Betsy Pasley

(*Apologies to John Steinbeck, who wrote “Travels with Charley,” a book my son recommended to me last year.)

A graphic rendering of the "house"
I visited in Ithaca.

The gauntlet has been thrown with Dave's recent 13,000-word blog post, so I will try to more briefly document my travels in my Mini Cooper convertible “Checkers” since July 8, when we left Bayfield, WI. In the 37 days Dave was goofing off in California, I traveled more than 8,000 miles, crossed 25 states, stayed in 14 different locations, and visited 20 friends, family members or kids of friends. Not that it's a competition...

In a nutshell

Here's a flyover of my trip:  
* From northern Wisconsin to Madison and a visit to the capital after a breakfast of duck confit hash. 
* From Madison to Chicago for two fun days with friends Whitey and Dawn in a West Loop condo, visits with kids Zach and Rae, and a Cubs game at Wrigley. 
* Past Cleveland, a stop at the capital in Albany, and through Vermont to New Hampshire to visit Chet and Sue, Dave's brother and sister-in-law. We had great grilled food, a movie in an historic theater, and dinner with Tim, an old work friend and his family. 
* Back through Albany to Ithaca for a week with college roomies Susie and Laurel, escaping the heat to air-conditioned movie theaters, and engaging in tons of stimulating conversation. 
* To Cooperstown (see below). 
* Down to Westport, CT for golf and 12-foot screen baseball watching with friends Mark and Jane. 
* Over to Candlewood Isle near Danbury CT for three relaxing days with S.A. friend Mary and daughter Elizabeth at their summer cottage, including uber-healthy food and a view of a rising bright-orange (also blue) moon from a paddleboard on the lake. 
* South to Virginia for D.C. sightseeing and movie watching with Lorri, an old work buddy. 
* Driving to Asheville to meet Robie, another work friend for a "girl's weekend." 
* Back up to Charlottesville to enjoy two meals with Tex and his girlfriend. 
* Finally heading home, beginning on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

While I kept an almost daily journal, for the purpose of this blog I'll more briefly summarize some key themes of my journey. They were: 1) the Baseball Hall of Fame ceremony in Cooperstown, NY; 2) tourist time in D.C. and NC and VA and historic connections between my book reading and siteseeing; 3) meeting Tex's new girlfriend; and 4) the danger of parking lots and driveways and some reflections on visits with friends and family.

1. Cooperstown

I've been contemplating this eastern trek since 2013, and it is the reason I headed East instead of West with Dave. Three years ago, when Astro Craig Biggio was first included on the Hall of Fame Ballot, I told Dave that I wanted to attend the ceremony when he was inducted. Unfortunately, nobody was voted into that class. The next year Biggio missed by only three votes, so I suspected he would finally overcome the hurdle in 2015. On Jan. 5 the announcement was made, and I immediately began making my plans. I had hoped my 86-year-old uncle from Houston could have joined me, but he was tied up with family and participating in the Senior Olympic Nationals this summer (he was a real track and field Olympian in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics.) I discovered later that he won the national title in his age group in Discus and came in 2nd in Javelin, so I guess it was a productive trip!

But I digress. In the spring, as I planned my trip, I plotted a path that would reconnect me with many special friends and family members who I rarely see, as we are separated by thousands of miles. Highlights of some of these visits are mentioned above and later in this journal.

On Friday July 25, I arrived at my hotel in Utica, in advance of the Sunday induction ceremony. The Holiday Inn was about 40 miles and one hour north of Cooperstown. I don't recall if the options closer to Cooperstown were all booked up in January, or way too expensive for that weekend, but I suspect it was the latter. Anyway, this lodging was tucked away in a nice residential/business park area near Utica College. 

Saturday morning I made my "test run" to Cooperstown, driving the state and county roads, parking (for $20) on the north side of town closest to my exit, and then making the walk to the Clark Sports complex where the induction ceremony was scheduled the next day. I figured it was close to two miles, and was a hilly, yet pretty walk mainly through pristine neighborhoods. 

As I approached the field around 1 p.m., it became obvious that a lot of people were staking out their seats in the free area a day early. I talked to a staffer and a couple of Red Sox fans before deciding to drop the day pack I had been carrying to mark my place. I then trudged back to my car for the folding chair I would be using Sunday, and went back to stake out a seat about 5 "rows" back from the free-area fencing. It had a decent view of the stage but a great view of the large projection screen that would be showing the speakers and video highlights. I was really excited to have that stress out of the way. I then walked to Doubleday Field hoping to find the commemorative brick my sister Kathy and I bought my father in Fall of 2001, before his death in April 2002. Unfortunately I couldn't find it among the hundreds there. That was probably my only major disappointment of the weekend - and the trip. 

It was pretty hot, so I decided a cold beer would be nice, and I found myself at the lakeside hotel where Dad and his friend Roz had hosted me on my first trip here many years ago - maybe 1995 or so? There was a great local Pale Ale on draft, and a nice guy who I helped in getting the bartender's attention treated me to a second one. He and his wife were Yankee fans who come down for autographs every year. 

As I strolled back down the closed-off Main Street, I noticed hundreds more folding chairs, this time holding places for the 6 p.m. Parade of Legends. So, after attending a ceremony at Doubleday for two journalists (including Dick Enberg), I set my tiny folding stool behind some chairs occupied by Astros fans. This group had come up with a tour of more than 300 fans, and were frequently sipping from airline-sized liquor bottles. In the next 20 minutes we became fast friends, and as the parade started up, they invited me to stand next to them for a front-row view. It was amazing, as more than 50 players paraded by, seated in the back of Ford pick-up trucks just 30 feet from where we were standing. I can't list them all, but they included Joe Morgan, Whitey Ford, Al Kaline, Lou Brock, Johnny Bench, Rod Carew, Ozzie Smith, George Brett, Rollie Fingers, Greg Maddux, etc. The loudest cheers from our area were for Nolan Ryan and Biggio, who was serenaded as he made his way down the street with the "B-G-O" chant I would hear many more times over the weekend. It was a great way to end the day.

 

"B-G-O!"

When I finally got back to the hotel, I glanced at my phone to see that I had walked more than 11 miles that day! I packed for a quick departure the next day to guarantee my seat wasn't taken. The staff member I talked to earlier mentioned that some fans just toss chairs aside to get a better seat, so he suggested I arrive early.

 

Clark Sports Complex on Saturday.

Clark Sports Complex on Sunday.

My alarm nudged me out of bed before 7 on Sunday. After breakfast, I put the top down on the car and made my way back south. On the walk to the field, yet another local saw my t-shirt and commented how his town had been "infested" with Astros fans. I’m not sure I like the term, but it was true, and I think we outnumbered the many Red Sox fans there for Pedro Martinez. The place was starting to fill up.  (Later, officials estimated 45,000 fans attended, the most in years. Also, Astros announcers touted a Houston contingent of more than 30,000.) 

Happily, my seat was still there, but what looked like neat rows the day before were now a mishmash of folding chairs and blankets projecting back about 50 yards, so I had to pick my way to my seat, hoping I didn't step on anyone along the way. The place was a zoo; lines for souvenirs and concessions were ridiculously long, and the heat and humidity were relentless.

At the beginning of the ceremony, the 49 returning Hall of Famers were each introduced with a brief video, and we were about an hour in before Biggio's speech. After that first speech, I noticed a lot of my neighbors left to find some shade, which gave the rest of us a bit more legroom. However, since the weather was very Houston-like we Biggio fans pretty much stuck it out. I stayed cool with plenty of water and a wet bandana. 

After the festivities, I hustled back to the car to offload my things, and then headed back to the lakeside hotel for some adult refreshment. This time I sat between two male Houston fans on my left and a couple in Red Sox jerseys on my right. The woman was a retired teacher from Western NY who now gives educational presentations to kids at the HOF museum a couple of times a week. Pretty cool job. 

The drive back with my top down as the sun was setting was spectacular. I briefly mentioned that drive in the post I put on FaceBook that night. What I didn't mention is that I was listening to my Baseball song playlist, including the sentimental theme from "Field of Dreams," a movie about reconnecting with a father. I have to be honest; a few tears were shed on Hwy 20 as I topped the hill to see the pastels of the sunset to the backdrop of this beautiful anthem. 

Here is what I posted to FaceBook that night:

A tribute to baseball - and life

    I was one of thousands of orange-clad fans to attend today's induction of Houston Astros player Craig Biggio to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY. Why did I go? Well: it was on my bucket list; Biggio is the first player from my team to be voted into the Hall; and he is a great player and role model, having spent his entire 20-year career with one team (unlike the other three pitcher inductees who represented 16 teams between them.)

    But the primary reason I came was to honor my father, who was a huge baseball fan and loved his Astros until his death in 2002.

    He took us to dozens of games in my childhood, turning my sister and me into devoted fans of this historic game. He taught us about the game and how to follow a team. He also inspired me to keep score, helping me understand that each game is unique and the scorebook is where you chronicle that game's story.

   But the moment I remember most is sitting in my grandparent's kitchen one day with my Dad when he told me why he thinks a baseball season is like life. To wit: it's a long season; there might be some winning streaks, but you will inevitably suffer slumps and endure "dog days" where you just strive to persevere; you might even get injured and have to watch from the sidelines. But when the season is over, no matter where you finish in the standings, the question to ask is: "Did I give it my best?" Maybe it's corny, but he believed it, and it works for me too.

    My Dad died not long after that conversation, but his lesson - and his spirit - live on. I felt his presence at the ceremony today, and I am certain I saw him on the way home in a spectacular sunset over the rolling hills of upstate New York. Thanks Dad, for giving me life, and teaching me about it through this lens of the game we love. 

 

My spot at the ceremony - before the swarm arrived.

P.S. I always enjoy when folks comment on my rare FaceBook posts, but two really stood out. One commented "best post I've read all day" and another "best post in the history of FaceBook!" What made these comments special is they are from two people who are both excellent writers and storytellers by trade. So these were amazing compliments. I am just so grateful this story touched so many people. 

2. History, DC, and Virginia

During these travels, I was deep into one of the three history books I was reading ("Mornings on Horseback," "The Bully Pulpit," and "The Big Burn.") about Teddy Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the segue into Woodrow Wilson's election. So my mind was stuck in the turn of the 20th century, where much action occurred in some of the places I was to visit.

 

I worked hard to get this picture of the historic
NY Capitol framed in some modern art.

For example, I stayed overnight in Albany on my way to New Hampshire, planning to visit the NY Capitol building where Teddy served as New York state legislator and governor in the late 1800s. After my easy visit to Wisconsin's Capitol, I expected another simple "park-and-visit" stop, but found out you don't just park on the street to see New York's buildings. You have to first ascertain which underground garage is open to visitors, then how to access the plaza from an extensive underground concourse that connects all the old and new buildings. I serendipitously stumbled onto an 18-story observation deck and got some great views of the city and complex, including the Hudson River, the Capitol complex, and the Governor's house where Teddy lived.

The Gov's mansion where Teddy lived.

Then I found my way outside to the plaza to get some better front views of the older capital building where he worked. 

After Cooperstown and a few more stops with friends, I arrived in Virginia in early August to stay with an old work buddy. On August 3, she and I took the Metro into D.C. to circumvent the Tidal Basin, since she had never seen the George Mason, FDR (Teddy's cousin) and Jefferson Memorials, and I wanted to see the new MLK statue. It was a hot, humid slog, but the memorials are all still very inspirational, and the MLK slab design coming out of a faux mountain was really special. 

I think I'm the  only tourist who has posed
with arms crossed in front of the MLK carving.

The next day I had scheduled a private tour of the Washington Cathedral through an old Trinity buddy, who is Provost there. Construction of the Cathedral began in 1905, smack dab in the TR D.C. years, but it wasn't completed until the 1970s. I took I-66 east into town, then drove up Rock Creek Parkway to Massachusetts Ave. My first historic connection this day was driving over the Teddy Roosevelt Island going into DC.

My tour guide was Joey from the development department. He was a recently graduated Philosophy and Religious Studies major from Eckert College in Florida, and a Tom Cruise look-alike in an adorable yellow seersucker jacket. For 2 1/2 hours we scrambled up, down and all around the complex, visiting almost all of the 11 chapels, both bell towers, many narrow outside ledges, the resting places of Woodrow and Edith Wilson, Helen Keller and Ann Sullivan, amazing rooftop views, and astonishing close-up views of some of the damage from the 2011 earthquake.  

At the cathedral, we had a close-up, high up view of the building
 - and 2011 earthquake damage; note the missing pinnacle above.

Among the other unexpected discoveries: the stone cutout of Jesus at the main altar is brighter than its surroundings, since it was carved out of Texas(!) limestone, vs. the Indiana limestone used around it; the large wall tapestries were often used for insulation in these cold stone buildings; the difference between gargoyles and grotesques are that gargoyles are used as water spouts for drainage while grotesques are carved on roof corners to prevent water from eroding the corners; the term "stinking rich" originated from the wealthy donors who could afford to buy a spot in the columbarium in the days before embalming; and there is a gargoyle shaped like Darth Vader on one of the top towers (which was too far away from us to see). I left Joey a small donation to put toward the earthquake fund, beat the traffic back to Lorri's, and got ready for our Asheville trip to see our other USAA friend Robie.

In Asheville we stayed at a great B&B, where we had a two-bedroom suite with a private entrance, our own porch, kitchen and living room. Robie and Lorri's objective in Asheville was to visit the Biltmore Estate, which was built in 1895 (between Teddy's state and national service). My goal was to procure an Asheville Tourists t-shirt with what I think is one of minor league baseball's most endearing mascots (I found out later they had changed the mascot, but we were already committed). 

The beautiful, but ostentatious, Biltmore Estate.

We all met our goals. Friday we toured the 250-room Biltmore house, chilled for awhile, then went to the Asheville Tourists game. In the souvenir shop, I found the only shirt with Ted E. Tourist, the camera-toting, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing bear, and later got a picture with his 6-foot mascot character. Meeting this mascot seemed appropriate, since I was finishing my third Teddy R. book. 

Me and Ted E. with
the new "Mr. Moon" logo.

The next day I had to return the favor by following the girls around the Biltmore Gardens and shopping downtown, which is famous for being 100% local. It was also 100% hipster.

From a historical perspective, I had conflicting feelings about touring the ostentatious Biltmore estate on Friday, since it was intentionally built by George Vanderbilt to be the largest house in the U.S. during a time (not unlike today) when there was an immense gap between rich and poor. Much of his estate was in the previously undeveloped forests of the Blue Ridge. After George died at the age of 51, his wife realized she needed to find a way to maintain this monstrosity, and one of her actions in the 30s was to sell 95,000 of her 125,000 acres in the Pisgah forest back to the U.S. Forest Service. This must have made National Forest Service Chief Gifford Pinchot - the hero of "The Big Burn" and a secondary character to Teddy in "The Bully Pulpit" - very happy. It was a beautiful estate, and it does offer a tranquil setting in the midst of the Asheville sprawl.

The last connection to my history books was my visit to Woodrow Wilson's birthplace and museum in Staunton, VA. While waiting for Tex and his girlfriend to return to Charlottesville for law school, I drove the 8 miles from my hotel to this quaint little town to take the tour. There were a few original Wilson mementoes in the house, including the original crib for "Tommy," as he was known until he changed his name to Woodrow at the age of 21. So in one week I had seen Woodrow from cradle (in Staunton) to grave (his tomb at the Washington Cathedral.) 

After reading these books and visiting these sites, it easy to draw corollaries to current events. In the turn of the 20th century, there was also a yawning "wealth gap." and the government under Teddy, William and Woodrow made many substantive changes that resonate today, including trust-busting, food inspections, 40-hour work weeks, child labor laws, the income tax, and popular election of senators. I think they all would have preferred to make headway in women's suffrage and race relations, but - regardless of your political leanings - it's hard to ignore these other advancements. The other similarity is the rifts in the Republican Party in 1912 that caused Teddy to run against Taft in the new Bull Moose Party, which resulted in a split vote that propelled the Democrat Wilson into office. Although that heralded the end of Republicans as Progressives, it still feels familiar as we watch the "establishment" branch challenge the ultra-conservatives in today's Republican politics.

3. Seeing Tex, meeting the girlfriend, and motoring the Parkway

Are Tex and Rachel preparing for
their second year of Law School,
or checking FaceBook?

At the beginning of the summer, Dave and I noticed some FaceBook pictures featuring Tex and a brunette, who at first was acknowledge by him as "just a friend." It didn't take more than a few conversations to pick up on the more serious nature of his relationship with fellow UVA law student Rachel. In a matter of weeks we discovered he had bought a plane ticket from Denver to visit her in Philadelphia, the location of her summer internship. We also learned she is visiting our house this coming holiday season, they are making plans to be in the same city for internships next summer, and her parents were going to be in town Aug. 10 to help her move in and go to dinner with Tex. When Tex invited me to join them, since I would be in the East Coast, it didn't take long for me to adjust my schedule. The visit did add 540 miles to my overall mileage, but it was well worth it.

Rachel's mom didn't make it after all, but I did get to meet Rachel and her dad, Mark. He took a $5 Metrobus from NYC to Philly to drive Rachel and her cat Ginny back to Charlottesville. Rachel was what I expected after seeing her on FaceBook: cute, smart, fun and full of personality. Both she and her dad had a good sense of humor. Mark and I split the dinner check; it's very natural to treat our 26-year-old "kids." I was also able to visit with the couple for brunch the next day on the pedestrian mall, before they headed off for a camping trip, and I reviewed my options for the three-day drive home.

Another boring view for me and Checkers
on the BRP.

One of the first things I considered when I purchased my new Mini Cooper convertible last October was using it on a fun curvy road on a pretty (not too hot) day. I was hoping the drive East might include some opportunities, and it did. However, I knew my best bet would be driving on parts of the Blue Ridge Parkway on my way home. Since it starts just out of Charlottesville, I decided to get on it, and - based on how it was going - stay or get off when I wanted to go more than 40 mph. The two previous times I've been on the BRP have been either rainy or foggy, so I wasn't sure what to expect. This day (Wednesday, Aug. 12) was spectacular. I drove 341 miles in about 10 hours, using all my clutch-less manual gears and the "Sport" button to give me tighter steering. I saw very few cars, a handful of bicyclists and motorcyclists, and zero 18-wheelers, Golden Arches, or billboards. If I had stopped at all the beautiful overlooks I never would have made it in one day. This diversion added a few hundred miles to my next two days, but what a delight. 

4. Final random thoughts on friends and parking lots

First, let's talk about where the real dangers are in driving. By the time I arrived in Ithaca on July 19, I had driven 5,000 miles very safely over many county and state roads, toll roads and Interstates at high speeds. But I didn't count on the danger of the parking lot or driveway. One day in June on our way to Wisconsin, while pulling into a parking lot at the Minuteman Missile NHS in South Dakota, I heard a horn blaring behind me. Dave was in his truck following me into the lot and saw a car backing into me from the left. Since I was looking to my right to start my turn, I didn't see him. The driver of the black Charger stopped, but not before I felt an ugly "crunch" on my front left bumper. This car isn't even 8 months old and this is how it gets its first scar? We all parked safely and the driver got out and immediately started apologizing - as he should. I was relieved to see that the impact on my car was mainly to the black rubber bumper, with a small crack to the yellow plastic signal light. He had a bit more damage, and after some back and forth between agents and my decision not to get anything fixed, we closed out our side of the claim. "Good," I thought to myself, "That gets the obligatory vehicle disaster out of the way for the summer." 

Laurel and I in Ithaca with our (luckily)
undamaged Mini Coopers.

Fast-forward 5 weeks and another 2,000 miles, and we are in Laurel's driveway backing out in her Mini wagon. Our friend Susie and I had parked our cars on the left side, seemingly out of the way. As she backed up, we heard a faint" clunk" and Laurel exclaimed "Oh my god, I forgot your car was parked here!" We got out, and the black bumpers (luckily) were pretty crammed together. I got in Checkers and delicately pulled away. No real damage again, but now I'm starting to get waaayyyy paranoid about parking lots and driveways! 

Now, about the blessing of friends. Aside from the baseball ceremony and fun sightseeing visits, the real highlight of this trip was the privilege of staying with special friends and relatives on this journey. I found some houses were uncluttered and sterile, others were tastefully designed, and others were casual and inviting. But all featured gracious hosts, stimulating conversation, and great entertainment. Some came with cute pets or even cuter kids. These were all folks I only see once in a decade (or longer) so it was an amazing time. I am also so energized when I see how the kids are growing up. To a person, each is a distinct personality who has so much talent, and so much to contribute to this world. Spending time with these kids - from 12-year girls to college kids to young adults - is so inspiring, and makes me feel better about the future.

In fact, one specific visit merged family and friends. While in New Hampshire with Dave's brother and sister-in-law Chet and Sue, I also had hoped to connect with a work buddy who moved up north six years ago. Instead of my having to make separate trips, my generous in-laws invited Tim, his wife and daughter to an amazing cookout on their deck. Seeing family, friends, and kids sharing conversation, artwork, and tractor-driving made for a special evening.

Love to all! I’ll leave you with two memorable snapshots.

A summer sunset over the lake at Candlewood Isle in Connecticut.

It was a beautiful view of downtown Chicago from my friend Whitey's 5th-floor balcony.

Wrapping Up California; Moving On To Colorado

Celebrating my last night on U.S. 395

When I arrived in Bishop on July 14 I harbored thoughts of climbing all 15 of the California 14ers this summer. But when I left on August 17 I was plenty happy to have bagged “just” 10 of them; and more than happy to leave the others “on the table” for a return trip.

It’s probably for the best; I need something to think about over the winter.

Because I was already there, well-acclimated and in good climbing shape it would have made a lot of sense to stay in California and wrap things up this year. But I was ready to go. Tired of the long, grueling approaches, the loneliness and emptiness of the California backcountry, and the general stress associated with route finding and climbing in the rugged Sierras.

Also, it was getting hot and very smoky. On my last full day in Bishop the temperature hit 100 for the first time and some days the mountains were barely visible in the smoke. In fact, I was very fortunate that, on my climb of Split Mountain last week, there was a nice breeze blowing from the southeast that kept most of the smoke on the west side of the mountain as I approached from the east under blue skies.

In a nutshell, not only was it the plan to leave on August 17 but it was time. I was ready to go.

However, I’ve also been thinking about the six U.S. 14ers that still need to be climbed. Liberty Cap, the avalanche-prone bump on Mt. Rainier’s shoulder is, obviously, a special case. The nice thing about this peak is that it is on what is probably America’s best/most-guided mountain and it is in a national park. So I’ll have plenty of resources and advice as to whether or not going there someday is within the realm of reason and prudence.

Speaking of 14,000-foot volcanoes; Mt. Shasta, I’ve learned from talking to several people who have climbed it, is best and most-enjoyably climbed in the spring when it still has snow, so I think I will probably set Mt. Shasta aside to be my 74^th and, quite possibly, final U.S. 14er.

That leaves four challenging, but not terribly difficult, 14ers west and slightly south of Bishop; Mt. Tyndall, Mt. Williamson, Middle Palisade and Mt. Sill.

Tyndall and Williamson are logically done as a pair that would require at least two nights and probably three on a backpacking trip. I’d really like to find a partner for this trip and had zero desire to do it by myself this summer.

If I did Sill by myself I would probably have to pack into the Palisade Basin (where I stayed with the group for the climbs of North Pal, et.al.) approach it from the west in a long day-hike and then pack out. Or, I could use a guide and do a more technical route from the east that could be done with only one night out or, on a more leisurely two-night trip.

Most people climb Middle Palisade as a one-nighter. Supposedly the climbing is harder than Split Mountain but the approach is easier.

Summaries and Reflections

Okay, enough talk about the six I haven’t climbed. Let’s take a moment to re-cap and summarize the 69 14ers in the Lower 48 that I have climbed.

Betsy and I climbed Mt. Whitney, my first 14er and her last, during the Reagan Administration. Tex and I climbed Mt. Rainier in June, 2006. However, I have now climbed the other 68 14ers (i.e. all of them except Rainier but including a repeat of Whitney) in a 39-month period beginning with Mt. Sherman in Colorado on May 15, 2012 and ending with Split Mountain in California on August 14, 2015 .

I tend to think about these climbs as “trips”. For example I climbed four mountains this summer with the guided group but I tend to think of that as one “trip”. These “trips” can vary greatly in length and difficulty, from easy day hikes to multi-night backpacks. So, with that in mind and without double-counting any of the mountains that I’ve climbed more than once, bagging these 69 14ers has required 45 separate “trips”.

Twenty of those “trips” were day hikes, where I slept in my own bed at “home” (usually the travel trailer) both the night before the hike/climb and the night of the hike/climb. Eleven of the “trips” involved car-camping at a trailhead (10 of them the night before the climb and one, Split Mountain, on the night of the climb). Six required 1-night base camps (including Mt. Rainier, but none in California) and eight required multi-night base camps, including three times in California this year. Twelve times I have reached more than one summit in one day, including the Whitney-Muir and Starlight-Thunderbolt tandems in California this year. I reached 11 14er summits with groups organized through the Colorado Mountain Club and eight with partners that were not part of an organized group (all of them in Colorado). Five summits were reached with guided groups (Mt. Rainier and four in California this summer, but none in Colorado).

I’ve reached 45 of the 69 summits climbing alone. Of course, on many of those solo climbs there have been other climbers around, and there have been several times in Colorado, and on Mt. Whitney in California this summer, where I shared the summit with a decent-sized crowd of fellow climbers even though I was, technically speaking, climbing “solo”.

However, there have also been dozens of times that I have been alone on the summit, including on frequently-climbed mountains like Longs Peak in Colorado, and White Mountain and Mt. Langley in California this summer.

My most-climbed 14er is Mt. Yale outside of Buena Vista, Colorado; I’ve reached its summit four times. On a fifth climb, just for the hell of it, I turned around 100 yards or so short of the summit (telling an astonished fellow hiker; “I’m getting a little tired, I think I’ll turn around.)

The only other time that I have started out for the summit of a 14er and not reached the summit was July 30/31 of this year when I backpacked to Red Lake below Split Mountain but decided to pack out without trying for the summit in rainy, cloudy weather.

With 69 14ers in the bag, including the hardest, I can now see the finish line.

One State at a Time

Sunrise in Nevada

When climbing the mountains my mantra has been “one step at a time, one mountain at a time.” I retrofitted that slogan for the drive from California to Colorado to; “one mile at a time, one state at a time.”

For reasons that don’t seem as clear now as they did several weeks ago, I got myself worked into a lather about the “potential dangers” of driving across the empty Nevada desert with the trailer in tow. I had visions of running out of gas in the 170 miles of empty between Tonapah and Ely, or of the truck overheating on a long pull up a desert mountain.

So I brought gas cans with me from home and left Bishop at 4 a.m. Monday with nine spare gallons of expensive California gasoline strapped in the back of the truck.

However, all my worries were for naught. Everything was fine, I got better mileage than usual (when pulling the trailer) and, while the early start certainly made the drive cooler than it would have been had I started later, I doubt the temperatures ever got much above 90.

At any rate I pulled into a KOA in Ely early Monday afternoon and had time to do laundry and catch up on some of the financial bookkeeping that has been neglected since I left home in early June.

While it is slightly easier to get gasoline east of Ely than west, the combined stretch of U.S. 6 and U.S. 50 across western Utah has the potential to be even hotter than Nevada, and it was. Plus there were long delays for road work, and I lost an hour going into the Mountain Time Zone.

Thus I was really glad that I had decided to stop after 200 miles in Salina, Utah instead of trying to push on across the mountainous stretch of I-70 to Colorado.

Because of the mountains and difficult terrain and highway planning decisions that predate the interstate system, I-70 takes a hard turn to the south at Salina before intersecting (and terminating) at I-15. Thus, if you are driving from Las Vegas to Colorado this is great. But if you are bound from Colorado to Salt Lake City the southward turn of I-70 adds more than 100 miles to the trip.

For this reason Salina is a major jumping off place for I-70 travelers that use either U.S. 50 (like me) or U.S. 89 to make the connection with I-15. The Butch Cassidy RV Park sits very close to this intersection; a wonderfully convenient location for me, but also one that came with a fair bit of traffic noise.

But there were no worries. It was very relaxing to arrive in mid-afternoon, take a shower, do some reading, drink a beer or two and cook some supper.

Sitting outside in the shade drinking a beer and reading the Salt Lake Tribune it was really starting to cool off (as in, do I need to get a jacket?) when a giant rig pulled in to the slot next door and began to noisily set up. This was taking place on the opposite side of my trailer from where I was sitting, so I could not really see what was going on but I could see the top of their gigantic trailer towering over mine and, seemingly, right on top of it.

After a while I poked my head around the corner to see just how close they were to me (very close) and I noticed Texas plates on the truck.

Not too long after that the guy walked over to introduce himself and apologize for the racket and – as two Texans far from home - we were quickly on friendly terms. This is a point that has been driven home now time and time again on my travels. Texans are, by far, much friendlier and more congenial than people from anywhere else.

And this guy - who is currently living near Possum Kingdom Lake (a lot nicer than it might sound) southwest of Ft. Worth and was en route to Seattle with his ex-wife (“we’ve sort of hooked up again”) and some of their kids - was just one more example of that.

A lonely ribbon of eastbound I-70 crossing central Utah.

With steep grades and tricky winds the drive across Utah with a trailer can be a little hairy but everything went well and smooth. The biggest disappointment was the thick haze/smoke that obscured what can be fabulous 100-mile views. To accommodate the gawkers the Utah DOT has established about a half-dozen rest areas/view points in the 100-mile stretch between Salina and Green River and I stopped at a couple of them to “rest” and take photos.

Soon enough I was in Colorado and set up for the evening at the Colorado River State Park near Fruita, Colorado.

It’s a very nice state park and, other than my belated discovery that the showers were pay showers that needed to be fed with quarters, a lot nicer place than either of the previous two nights (and, certainly, than the Bishop RV “Park”).

There was also something at this park that I had not encountered since leaving Wisconsin; mosquitoes.

Back in Buena Vista

Mt. Princeton looms over Snowy Peaks.

One of the many attractions of BV is that, for a town in the middle of the Colorado mountains, it is relatively easy to pull a trailer here. Although it’s easier coming from the south than from the north it’s not that bad taking U.S. 24 from I-70 over Tennessee Pass through Leadville and then down the Arkansas River Valley to BV.

I made it in fine shape and got great mileage for the entire trip from California.

The Snowy Peaks RV Park has a new owner but very little seems to have changed since I first came here in 2012. I recognized (and they recognized me) many of the employees and “full-time part-timers” that spend their summers here.

After I got the trailer set up I went down to the Eddyline Brewpub, picked up a growler of beer and got ready to climb Mt. Princeton the next day.

I have no particular goals or agenda regarding the Colorado mountains but I would like to re-climb some of the easier/favorites in the area when the weather is good and the mood strikes me.

Even though Princeton is not a particular favorite and involves a good bit of talus-hopping I climbed it primarily because it is the most visible 14er from BV, indeed probably the most prominent peak of any height. Now, over the next few weeks, I can look up at it and say; “Yeah, I was just there.” While it does involve driving on a 4-wheel road that can be particularly vexing if you meet a vehicle coming the other way I, fortunately, met no one and followed a Subaru with a young couple that I would end up sharing the summit with and who followed me out on the road.

From the Mt. Princeton summit, looking down on BV in the smoky haze.

It was a nice day, I took it slow and got up and back in about six relatively easy hours. Unfortunately, the smoke from the western fires has followed me (actually, preceded me) to Colorado. So the views looking down on BV and the Arkansas River Valley were hazy. Colorado had a snowy winter and a wet spring and has had very few fires this year. But, apparently, there is so much smoke out west that is has seeped east and it was my constant companion from Bishop all the way to BV.

Princeton was Friday. On Saturday I took on the much longer Mt. Shavano-Tabeguache Peak tandem, a mostly trail hike/climb of more than 11 miles with 5,600 feet of elevation gain. The route requires going over the summit of Shavano, descending 500 feet of elevation to a saddle, climbing up the talus slope of Tabeguache and then regaining the Shavano summit to descend back down the same way to the trailhead. It’s not terribly hard, but it is a stout workout.

These cows crossing the road at the trail head were a sign that I needed to get 'mooving".

This route is the most common way to reach the Tabeguache (named for a band of Ute Indians; Shavano was an important Tabeguache chief) summit. However, I used a different route in 2012 on an ill-fated trip with the Colorado Mountain Club that was supposed to, but did not, reach both summits. I climbed Shavano later that summer but, on the summit, made the decision not to go on to Tabeguache because of building storm clouds.

The summit of Shavano with Tabeguache in the background.

This time, when I got to the Shavano summit there were again some good-sized clouds and I was looking them over and debating whether or not to go on to Tabeguache when a 20-something guy, Nathaniel, came along beside me, doing the same thing.

He revealed that Shavano was his 14^th 14er of the summer and I could tell he really wanted to go for #15 (Tabeguache) so I said; “Let’s go for it!”.

With my new partner on the Tab summit.

It was great to have someone to hike with. We made it over to Tabeguache in about an hour. We chattered on most of the time about climbing 14ers and it was fun being the “elder statesmen” for a 58-wannabe. The clouds remained big and fairly numerous but were not threatening. I don’t know if he was necessarily in better shape than me but he was a lot younger, so I let him loose from my clutches on the re-climb of Shavano and, I would imagine, he probably made it back to the a good hour or so before me.

As Nathanial and I were descending from Tabeguache we encountered a black guy with dreadlocks on his way up. It is quite unusual to see a person of color in the backcountry but, just the day before on Mt. Princeton, I had encountered and briefly spoken with a black guy that also had dreadlocks. I didn’t really think this was the same guy but, what are the odds? So, on a whim, I asked him if he had climbed Princeton yesterday and he said no, but that he had climbed Princeton that morning!

One day, four mountains, why not?

This was shocking enough but then he revealed that he had also climbed Mt. Antero (named for another Ute chief) that morning. So, in other words, this guy was climbing four 14ers in one day, something that would take me, at least, three days! I was awestruck. He caught up with me before I got back to the Shavano summit and we talked for awhile. He said he had come out from Denver with his girlfriend and some of her friends to attend a big concert in Salida. Not wanting to hang around with the girls all day he had, on a whim, decided to “climb some 14ers”. Turns out he was a former decathlete on the University of Colorado track team. So, once again, I found out how easy it is to be humbled by the people you encounter in the mountains.

The trail seemed longer and a lot more tedious on the way down and I got back to the truck around 6 p.m. nearly 10 hours after I had left.

I remembered seeing this weird tree trunk on the Shavano trail back in 2012.

I stopped at the Elevation Brewery in Poncha Springs to pick up a growler but was massively disappointed to discover that the KFC in Salida had closed down. McDonald’s was the only practical option and the lady at the drive-through window told me that the “concert” the four-14ers-in-one-day guy had told me about was being billed as the “new Woodstock”. I made a beeline for BV.

On Sunday, Betsy arrived!