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From Volume 262 - Trail Riders

Trip Report Part II

We'd just finished the train - "the Georgetown Loop."
I know that sounds like a blow job Clinton got at college, but that's its name.

Click Here to hear the train, one more time. (Sets the mood)
What could be cooler than the echo of a steam train whistle in a canyon?
Well, lots of things, actually - but this is pretty cool.

We drove north, past the "Elk Jerky" roadside stands.
I'll tell you, you don't know good eatin' until you've chewed
on a strip of dried forehead from a 1500-pound bull-moose elk.

We drove and drove until it started to get dark.
We landed in Granby, Colorado.

Looking for a cheap-ass motel, hopefully one owned by Indians.
(They always put "American Owned" in their windows.
When you smell the curry, you know you're in for a cheap night.)

Then I saw it.

Isn't that the gayest sign you ever saw?
Is that lil' guy headed for a Dude Ranch, or what?

ha ha

It's the Trail Riders Motel in Granby, Colorado.
We drove around it once or twice, to be sure straight people were allowed.
For $39, you can't beat it.

Parking was tight, so I asked Mrs. BC to get out and guide me as I
backed into the too-small parking space the motel almost provided.

Guess what?

I didn't hear her say "STOP!" but the shreik she let out after the crash
woke the dead in goddamn Gunnison, which is three counties away.

The Indian lady came out screaming in that funny language.
Hell, she already had my credit card - so I chose to plead guilty.
She said "That's why we prefer you park head-first," as tho there was
a goddamn sign telling stupid drivers like me to park head first.

Geez, if I owned a gay hotel, I'd install curb feelers, for chrissakes.

She said she thought the damages might run as high as $15.
I gave her a $20, told her to keep the change.
Anytime you fuck up and get a chance to get out for $20 - I say take it!
You know, I never had troubles like this when I drank too much.

It was Monday so we settled in for the big MNF game.
I know some people don't like Dennis Miller, but just last Saturday, waiting for
John Madden's game to come on, whoever the announcers were for the NOON
game were so goddamn stupid they made me sound like Dennis Miller.

Sometimes I don't get Dennis Miller because he goes over my head.
These guys were so goddamn stupid, I couldn't understand them
because MY brain was too-highly developed. Each time I hear a moron say
"the losing team needs to score more points," I just wanna fucking hurl

Last week's MNF game was great.
The Rams are fun as hell to watch.

Now, everybody knows more about football than me - even Smirk,
but I've heard people say a defense needs to rest now and then.
Warner and his fleet-footed homeboys are too damn fast for their own good.
At one point, Warner threw three CONSECUTIVE touchdown passes for
79, 83 and 87 yards. The poor defense doesn't even get to finish a Dixie cup
of Gatorade before they're back on the damn field, huffing and puffing.

Memo to Kurt:
Take a knee now & then and let your defense have 30 seconds, OK?

Miller had a GREAT line after Marshall Faulk scored a touchdown:

Everybody's so worried about me using the "F," word,
but all I can say at this moment is "Faulk!"

ha ha

Koresh, I wish I could write that good.

The next day, we took the back entrance into Rocky Mountain Park.
(An homage to our gay brothers out there.)

Just this once, Mrs BC agreed to drive in the high altitudes.
The reason?

My dedication to the ongoing research into the effects of fine alcohol.
Specifically, the effects of fine, luxury tequila at high altitudes.
(Hey! Don't laugh, this is important research.)

You haven't seen anything until you see the effects of Chinaco at 7500 feet.
Remember, it's not about getting drunk.
I don't get drunk - I enjoy the ceremonial aspects of fine tequila.

And don't think I made that shit up, either.
History is full of the ceremonial role alcohol has played.
Why, 2000 years before I was born, Jesus created alcohol out of thin air.
(Praise His Glory!)

Hell, it was the first miracle he ever performed.
Matter of fact, didn't he sass his mother a little bit?
This is the way the nuns told the story:
Mary came to Him and said, "They drank all the liquor - they're out."
and Jesus said, "You talkin' to me?"

Mary repeated her question, and Jesus said, "You talkin' to me?"
Finally, He said, "What do you want me to do about that, woman?"

It's hard to tell about those nuns, they told so many wild stories...
Maybe Father Dan will write in with clarification.

So we proceeded thru the park.

Climbing, climbing, higher and higher.
To simulate labratory conditions, I did a shot for every 500 feet of altitude we climbed.
No sense in doing this important research if labratory conditions can't be duplicated, right?

It's hard to pinpoint when it happened, but the trees started getting taller.
Traffic and my brain were getting as thin as the air.

Another 2,000 feet - that meant another four shots.

Hooo, boy!
Look at that sucker!
In less than an hour, we'll be ON TOP of that bad boy!
Good thing I had two bottles with me.

One can never be too prepared while doing important research.

Now, my memories get a little foggy here, and my handwriting
in my Santa Fe Hemp notebook gets a little hard to read, too.
I know we stopped at this beautiful lake, I know we did,
but I can't remember why - or what we did there.

I remember getting out of the car, I remember walking the 50 feet to this
fucking gorgeous mountain lake with water more blew than Monica, ha ha
But I can't remember - my mind became foggy - for some reason.

Perhaps it was that important hemp research - ha ha

We kept driving, higher and higher, and I dutifully did my shots for each 500 feet.
I forgot that these mountains get to 14,000 feet, and we were still climbing.

Christ, at this point, we were so high, even the trees said, "Fuck it."
They can't breathe at this altitude any easier than I can.

Here we are at the top of the Rocky Mountain range.
I pissed Mrs BC off when I stuck my head out of the window and yelled,
"Made it Ma - Top of the World!"

Damn, that was a great movie.

You see this shot?
Can you see those poles?
Using my engine-ooity, I figured out what those poles are for.

In April, when the dozers come to dig the road out from the snow, they look for
those poles sticking out so they don't drive off the cliff and fall two damn miles.
That's how high we were - so high that it would snow 12-15 feet.

ha ha

I continued to reap benefits from the low temperatures.
Remember, it was 108 the day before we left K-Drag, Oklahoma.
And now we were surrounded by snow warnings.

For some damn reason, the road continued to take us higher.
I shouted "Top of the world" waaaaaay too early.

That mountain to the right?
It's about 14,000 feet, and we're climbing higher and higher.
I'll tell you, this trip is one I'll never forget.
At about 10,00 feet I started seeing things.
By the time we reached the top, well, let's just say I had no business
operating a pen in the sorry-ass condition I was in.

I wasn't sure if this was a Chinaco hallucination or if it was real,
but Mrs. BartCop saw it too, and she was driving, so I'll bet it was real.

This is a hawk or an eagle - and he's just hovering.
The wind was so strong and constant, the hawk just stayed in one spot.
(I have this on video if I ever figure that technology out.)

For ten seconds or longer, this lil' guy just stayed there, frozen in the air.
I'll bet that's fun as hell - being a cold-blooded bird, flying around the best
national parks, just riding wind currents and getting laid.

As much fun as we were having, we knew we had to head down the mountain.
Can you see the road we're taking on the left?

Here we are a few minutes later, looking down on glaciers.
I guess I've been higher than this before, yeah, I remember now,
and all three times Jimmy Page was in the house !

ha ha

Boy, if I could tell you the truth about those days,
but my very Catholic sister knows about my dot.com, so we'll have to figure out
some code words to use for "LSD," and "quaaludes" and stuff like that.

You know, I was the smartest kid in my school until I ate LSD.
Some people think I was affected by it, but I don't think that was it.

that was it.
that was it.
that was it.
that was it.

ha ha

Just kidding, Sis!

Whoa!

Sorry, I just fell off my chair.
I was fast-forwarding the camcorder.
Taking those mountain curves at 10x regular speed is a bitch!

We're back down to about 10,000 feet here.
I sure am glad I wasn't doing a shot for every 500 feet we descended.

But you know what?
As we got farther down the mountain, I started to sober up!
I've been to a few parties, shall we say, but I've never had the sensation
of very rapidly sobering up.
It was kinda cool!
I was getting smarter and sharper every few minutes.

It was so strange. Every sentence out of my mouth made more sense
than the previous entence. That's never happened before, either.
After another few minutes, I felt so good, I took the wheel!

ha ha

That's my Chinaco!
Once we got out of the clouds, the usual, subtle effects of the Chinaco
chased away those dizzy-demons and I felt like a million damn dollars.

Just in time, too.

We were approaching the wildlife area.
I knew I was going to need all my powers and all my skills to drive,
search for wildlife, and operate the digital cam-corder all at the same time.

Wait - what's that?
Do you see something?
Yeah!

Over there!

What is it?
Can you tell?

It's a big mother, whatever it is.
This shot is with the super 86x digital lens.
That damn thing's a half-mile away, and it's still big.
It's bigger than a horse, it's bigger than a cow.
But what the hell is it?

Is this it?

Here we are on vacation in beautiful Rocky Mountain Park,
and the only wildlife we can see is about a half-mile away?

Is this the closest we'll get to see wildlife?

ha ha

I'm F-ing with you.

Remember, I've already seen this movie.
Matter of fact, I produced and directed this film,
and I did it on some wild alcohol/altitude/fog jag,
but I know how it ends.