Hello and welcome to An Altitude Problem, the blog that's never wanting to work again. Sure, i have work to do today, but somehow, I just don't want to peel myself off my chair to go do it. I want to mountain bike. Or hike. Or go to the lake. It's not a lack of ambition that still has me glued to this chair, but rather, a severe aversion to getting in my Jeep, driving to Keystone, and nit-picking over little details that may or may not enrich our guest's vacation experiences. Besides, Andy just climbed onto the back of my armchair and draped himself behind my neck. I can feel his little heartbeat on the nape of my neck, my head tilting forward a bit with each breath he takes. He stinks.

It has been awhile since I last wrote, I know. Let's see...there was the World Music Festival last weekend at Keystone, which meant a crowd...and all the Porsche's rolled into town for their annual rally, which meant thousands of pint-sized sports cars everywhere one looked, and their owners. I'll just not say anything about that, since several pf those said owners helped put groceries on our table by renting from us. And then the weekend of 4th, which, after I had spend all week running around getting ready for it, went quite smoothly for me. It was a different story for Bobby, who had to run around like a crazy person, a plumbing problem here, a locked-out guest there, a non-functioning fridge there, a broken microwave there.

On the second, Jeremy of Another Blog arrived with his roommate, Davis. They had been making their way from Flagstaff to our place for several days, spending a night in Moab, then driving up here for two days over their Fourth of July break from school.

Jeremy and I hit the trails on our bikes first thing the next morning. We climbed Keystone, grinding uphill for six miles, 2,340 feet, before cresting the top, taking a breather and a few pictures, then pointing our bikes downhill for a fun, fast ride down Mosquito Coast, a trail that incorporates turn berms, bridges, roots and rocks into a fairly rough, fast ride. Jeremy rides a hardtail 29-er, which, for those not fluent in Bike, means that he has no rear shocks and 29 inch wheels instead of 26 inch wheels like most mountain bikes. His bigger wheels give him the advantage of a smoother ride, and a bit more speed, I think. He did kick my butt on the downhill, which was a bit humbling, since I have the advantage of full suspension and should have been able to coax more speed out of the little Stumpjumper, or at least a little less brake. We got back from the ride, had lunch, chilled out a little, then talked Davis into a bike ride, in spite of his being a bit iffy on the whole concept of riding off-pavement. We did the Mushroom Trail loop, forcing Davis to steer through the tight trees, around rocks in the trail, over the stream crossings.

The next morning Bobby offered to drive us to our trailhead, to save us four miles of uphill jeep road to get there. Bless his heart, it was wonderful. He even took us through the stream at the beginning of the ride so we wouldn't have to get wet so early in the morning. We rode over West Ridge, three miles of old mining roads and a short spur of uphill singletrack to the top of the ridge, where we connected with the Colorado Trail. We rode the Colorado trail down off the ridge, several miles of downhill, a smooth, loamy singletrack, tight switchbacks, cool shadows pierced by shafts of sunlight. As soon as the trail popped out of the trees, we took an intersecting trail that dropped into the Keystone Ranch, then climbed up to Blair Witch Trail. Blair Witch is a windey, twisty-turny trail that comes out on another section of the Colorado Trail, which we rode for only a few minutes before turning onto the Meadows Trail (at least that's what we call it) and descending through a few muddy meadows back to the bottom of the valley, then pointed our bikes toward home. It was about a 15 mile ride. We came home, had lunch, made a trip to the bike shop, then came back and met Bobby at home, jeep all cleaned out and ready to go. We all piled in the jeep, my three boys, Andy and me, and, even as the rain threatened us, headed up the hill to Montezuma. We drove up Saints John road, through the ghost town of Saints John, past the campsites of dozens of weekend campers, and topped out on Glacier Mountain, far above it all. We located the rocky outcroppings we skied off of in the winter, peered over the edge into the basin below, and took the word of returning fellow jeepers when they said the top was impassible because of lingering snowfields. On the way back down, we walked through the cluster of dilapidated cabins, all that is left of the Hunki Dori mine, then bounced back down to Montezuma, Andy trying, and failing miserably, to find a spot secure enough that he could sleep without being bounced onto the floor.

We rode to Frisco that evening for the 4th of July fireworks, 10 miles of pavement in 45 minutes, and got there as the last of the sunset was fading. We met Bobby there, parked on the side of the road for a quick getaway after the fireworks, when thousands of people are also making their way out of the marina and onto the highways. He had brought Andy, and the five of us elbowed our way through hordes of people, glowsticks, and dogs and found a spot out on the end of a dock, by the fuel pump. Andy had a tiny freak-out when the fireworks started, but it ended almost before it began, and he settled down between Davis and me and rolled over for belly rubs, basking in the reassurances I gave him. Before the fireworks ended, he had made friends with the people behind us, knocked over one of their beers, lapped it up like a regular little alcoholic, and still garnered hugs and ear-rubs. It was a good, if a bit cold, evening. The lake was calm, a mirror for the fireworks, and we had a front-row seat, out on the dock. The moon was bright, and I must say, it was a bit magical. We even escaped the traffic jam, thanks to our strategy of parking for a quick getaway and taking Swan Mountain Road home, instead of the Dam Road. As we were cruising home, we could see the string of brake lights across the dam.

And now, it is a day later than when I started this post. I am doing the same thing I was yesterday morning- procrastinating going to work. My bike is already on the jeep, I took Andy for a spin around the Mushroom Trail this morning, and now, if I can leave him with his daddy this afternoon, I want to go ride Keystone. It is already a warm day, just warm and humid enough that I may not get that done before the rain moves in. And I need to dismantle this house to find my sunglasses. I put them in the jeep console saturday night, brought them in the house (i think) yesterday morning, and haven't seen them since. Didn't need them all day yesterday, but today is a good day to generate a massive headache without them.