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     Last year I burned all my paid time-off by working at a bike shop. Yep, when my real job had no work for me I would leave and go help out a business that was slammed. But, instead of just letting me get a short check that week, my corporate overlords would suck away my vacation time to make full 40 hour weeks. So there was no vacation in 2020...or was it all a vacation?, it almost didn’t seem like a real year.        But 2021 is different, and my wife is a wonderful planner. I love that she plans, because I rarely do. Live life in the moment I say. That’s why I once tried to pull off the side of the road in White Ranch and camp with a girl camper. Then in the middle of the night a police loudspeaker was blasting across the hillside.       “Attention illegal campers! Return to your vehicle immediately or face severe consequences!” When we hiked back to the car he asked, “Did you have a campfire?” I said, “No.” He said, “I don’t believe you, take me up to where you camped and show m

 I've officially kicked off the '21 season. I dragged Brian to the top of The Grind, we flew down the traverse, then I led us on a clean run down Brown Town. I finally stepped up to the 'Double Tap' feature. This is a steep slab roll straight into a step-down log gap. It's a feature that I don't do when I'm by myself. But with him on my six, I sent it without hesitation. We pulled off at the bottom of Brown Town for fist bumps. I contemplated hitting the big kicker, but that would be the first big air of the year. I really feel like I should renew my pilots license at Valmont or Erie before I go big at Left Hand. So we rode around the kicker and I told him to lead down Indiana Jones. He'd been eating my dust so it was only fair to switch up. Plus he'd made a few runs down it previously, and this was my first since the snow cleared.  We dropped in and lined up for two minutes of mayhem, when suddenly I saw him wobbling right ahead of me, I think he wa

 The day I broke my Camp Four Coffee mug was a sad day, but it did lead to an hour of reminiscing about Crested Butte, so it wasn't a total loss. The day started like any other. I had my thirty minute drive. I took off my Vans and put on my work boots. I scrolled through my Pandora channels, settling on King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard channel. Then I pulled the trusty mug out of my tool box and gave it a wipe. With my bandanna secured over my face I headed towards the little alcove where the Bunn commercial coffee maker sits simmering away with a full pot of Folgers. It's not good, but it is coffee.   I took a shortcut outside and there they were. The Colorado Rocky Mountains. The mountains are always in view, sternly glaring at me, judging me for neglecting my duties. The mountains know that my purpose on earth is not to propel the commerce of American society, the mountains don't care about that. The mountains are gods who demand to be worshiped. I have to visit them o