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icepixieI learned a valuable lesson in Colorado: My next vacation needs to be at a beach. A nice, sea-level beach where I can breathe.
(Or, more optimistically: I am not genetically or psychologically cut out for heights, but my friends are great at helping me out when I get in over my head.)
Which is not to say our 3/5ths PezMoot wasn't fun, because most of the time it was.
We started out at the Denver Botanic Gardens, which were in full spring bloom. Denver is about three weeks behind Nashville, weather-wise, so I got to see redbuds and cherries and tulips again. Hooray! They had a really big tropical greenhouse that had more color in it than I'm used to seeing in tropical greenhouses (typically it's a wall of green with a few orchids here and there), a Sound of Musicesque deluxe gazebo, and some Chihuly bits.
The next day, we went to Rocky Mountain National Park near Estes Park. We kind of figured the snowpack would start halfway up the trail we took (Bear Lake to Nymph Lake), but nope, it started right at the parking lot. Snowshoes would've been a good idea, but we forged ahead as best we could, dodging cross-country skiers and trying not to sink too far into the snow. (I failed, of course. I tried to be polite and get out of a descending hiker's way only to find myself up to my hip in snow. Visions of Lake Twenty-two and Seattle! Whitney pulled me out and we both promptly fell over in the middle of the trail itself.)
It was worth it for the views. Another hiker told us about a not exactly official, but well-trodden, path up to the top of a rock formation over Nymph Lake, and the view was, indeed, quite fabulous. I think the view and the exercise made the salami, string cheese, carrots, hummus, and trail mix we brought seem particularly tasty.
We continued on, and at a particularly narrow and slippery spot I had my first panic attack of the week, which was probably exacerbated by being at 9,500 feet. I think I lack whatever genes help you adapt to high altitudes. After I stopped shaking and cursing, Whitney kindly spotted me down that slope, although I still did most of it on my butt.
Since it looked like every other trail was going to be snowbound, we spent the remainder of the afternoon in Estes Park, which is so much like Gatlinburg that had you removed all references to "Rocky Mountain" in the store names and plunked me down there, I would not have been able to tell the difference. But Gatlinburg's pretty cute, so that was fine with me. We ran across a baby mouse in a bookstore, and I bought a t-shirt and a couple of Christmas ornaments. We also had ice cream. Nom nom nom.
The following day was devoted to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, along with what appeared to be the entire elementary-aged population of the city. But it was still a fabulous museum. I liked the Silk Road exhibit a lot. I got to see live silkworms, learn about silk-weaving, see ancient Chinese musical instruments, see lots of pottery, and learn to play knucklebones with a costumed...interpreter? Guide? Not sure what to call him, but he had an excellent beard. They had some very good wildlife dioramas and a balcony with what they claim are the best views of the city, and I believe them.
Then we went skating! I brought my skates and showed off, although the crowded public session made it a little difficult. Whitney's rental skates didn't fit very well and she unfortunately had to sit out most of the time (but took pictures!), while Chandra, of course, proved a willing and able student for spinning, bunny hops, and edges. I did tire more easily because of the altitude, but jumps are definitely higher at high altitude. Less gravity? I dunno.
The last day was ski day. We chose our ski place based on location, price, and whether the thing was even open this late in the season, which led us to Ski Loveland. Unfortunately, their beginner area was closed for the season. This should have been a warning.
Figuring Chandra could teach me everything I needed to know, and anyway the ski rental people said Lift 2 was good for beginners, we forged ahead to the top of a green run, which tops out at almost 13,000 feet. The chair lift was one of the more terrifying experiences of my life. There was no safety rail (WHAT KIND OF LIFT-LIKE CONTRAPTION SWINGS YOU SO FAR ABOVE THE GROUND WITH NO SAFETY RAIL???) so I clung to the back and side for dear life and closed my eyes the entire tenhours minutes it took to get up to the top. Chandra, our experienced skier, said that this was the longest lift she'd ever been on, because of course it was.
So that was bad enough. It was only going to get worse. Much, much worse.
I fell immediately upon getting off the ski lift. A nice man literally picked up up and set me on my feet. I began to get a sinking feeling in my gut, but continued on because it sure looked like the only way down was via ski.
I made it, oh, ten feet or so, to the top of the slope where most of the runs began. Then I fell on my back and started sliding headfirst very fast down said slope.
At about the point where I was wondering what it would be like to die by ramming headfirst into a tree, which for the record was about fifteen feet down, Chandra caught me. Thank god for friends who know what they're doing. Upright again, we did a brief "here's how you stop" lesson, which at least was familiar from skating (wedge = snowplow stop), before beginning to crabwalk over to the green run we wanted.
Along the way, I thought about how my ski boots had no arch support and were crushing my instep, and how my toes were numb. I thought about the fact that my left knee already hurt a lot from the pigeon-toed wedging I'd done for all of four minutes. I thought about the fact that it was two miles down to the base of the mountain.
I thought, "Nope."
Chandra kindly tromped the 300 yards back to the lift letoff to see what other ways down existed, while Whitney kept me company while we waited. Chandra came back with Ski Patrol Guy Number 1, who pointed to the rescue sled about 100 yards away and said I could get a ride down. I took off my skis and started tromping towards it.
About fifteen steps in, I started thinking, "Gee, this is really hard work." Twenty steps in, I fell to my knees and realized I couldn't actually stand up.
Have you ever wheezed so hard you couldn't talk? I'd never wheezed at all before this, and it was straight-up the most terrifying experience of the day. Ski Patrol Guy Number 1 asked my name, and I think I just shook my head because I couldn't catch enough breath to get out three syllables. SPGN1 went into the calm-but-obviously-concerned demeanor I associate with ER nurses and motioned Ski Patrol Guy Number 2 to bring the sled over. "We're going to get you down," he said. "We're going to give you some oxygen."
Meanwhile, it started snowing. Actually, it had started while we were waiting for Chandra and SPGN1 to get there, and it only intensified as I had my pseudo-asthmatic experience. I was so out of it, Chandra had to tell me to put my coat on (we'd taken them off because we got hot crabwalking). Actually, she pretty much had to put it on me. I have great friends!
I think I made it into the sled under my own power, as the wheezing had calmed down somewhat by then, although it's all a bit of a blur now. SPGN2 hitched the sled to some kind of harness he was wearing, and we started down.
That's about all I remember of the trip down, because I closed my eyes and held on for dear life. There were no restraints to keep you inside the very low-sided sled, because this place apparently doesn't believe in safety features. SPGN2 asked me where I was from a couple of times, and now that I think about he was probably checking to see if the answer stayed the same or if I was really in trouble. Thankfully, I felt much better as we got closer to the bottom.
SPGN1 offered me the oxygen, but warned that while I would feel good while I was breathing it, I would feel worse when I stopped unless I immediately went to a lower altitude. I decided to keep a consistent level of bad and went to turn in my ski stuff and sit in the restaurant until Chandra and Whitney got back.
I drank an entire Nalgene full of water (32 ounces) in less than an hour, but still had a raging headache. I couldn't concentrate on my book, but I had just enough awareness to be able to watch the skiers come in to the base area, which was kind of fun. It was about my speed at that point, anyway.
Then we went back to the condo Chandra's parents generously let us use and had cupcakes and sparkling cider to celebrate Whitney's birthday. Yaaay, vacation!
(I hear I made a good choice not to try to ski down the mountain--not that Ski Patrol Guys actually gave me a choice--because it was poorly marked, steep in spots, and the visibility was nil in the snow. Ugh, this place.)
If I can ever manage to face a ski lift again, I may try again at Gatlinburg, which is around 3,000 feet and has a lot of bunny hills. I think at least one of them involves a rope tow rather than a chair lift, so that might work for me.
Or maybe I'll just stick to skating.
Seriously, though, it was a good vacation and it was nice to see half the group again. PezMoot! Yay!
(Or, more optimistically: I am not genetically or psychologically cut out for heights, but my friends are great at helping me out when I get in over my head.)
Which is not to say our 3/5ths PezMoot wasn't fun, because most of the time it was.
We started out at the Denver Botanic Gardens, which were in full spring bloom. Denver is about three weeks behind Nashville, weather-wise, so I got to see redbuds and cherries and tulips again. Hooray! They had a really big tropical greenhouse that had more color in it than I'm used to seeing in tropical greenhouses (typically it's a wall of green with a few orchids here and there), a Sound of Musicesque deluxe gazebo, and some Chihuly bits.
The next day, we went to Rocky Mountain National Park near Estes Park. We kind of figured the snowpack would start halfway up the trail we took (Bear Lake to Nymph Lake), but nope, it started right at the parking lot. Snowshoes would've been a good idea, but we forged ahead as best we could, dodging cross-country skiers and trying not to sink too far into the snow. (I failed, of course. I tried to be polite and get out of a descending hiker's way only to find myself up to my hip in snow. Visions of Lake Twenty-two and Seattle! Whitney pulled me out and we both promptly fell over in the middle of the trail itself.)
It was worth it for the views. Another hiker told us about a not exactly official, but well-trodden, path up to the top of a rock formation over Nymph Lake, and the view was, indeed, quite fabulous. I think the view and the exercise made the salami, string cheese, carrots, hummus, and trail mix we brought seem particularly tasty.
We continued on, and at a particularly narrow and slippery spot I had my first panic attack of the week, which was probably exacerbated by being at 9,500 feet. I think I lack whatever genes help you adapt to high altitudes. After I stopped shaking and cursing, Whitney kindly spotted me down that slope, although I still did most of it on my butt.
Since it looked like every other trail was going to be snowbound, we spent the remainder of the afternoon in Estes Park, which is so much like Gatlinburg that had you removed all references to "Rocky Mountain" in the store names and plunked me down there, I would not have been able to tell the difference. But Gatlinburg's pretty cute, so that was fine with me. We ran across a baby mouse in a bookstore, and I bought a t-shirt and a couple of Christmas ornaments. We also had ice cream. Nom nom nom.
The following day was devoted to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, along with what appeared to be the entire elementary-aged population of the city. But it was still a fabulous museum. I liked the Silk Road exhibit a lot. I got to see live silkworms, learn about silk-weaving, see ancient Chinese musical instruments, see lots of pottery, and learn to play knucklebones with a costumed...interpreter? Guide? Not sure what to call him, but he had an excellent beard. They had some very good wildlife dioramas and a balcony with what they claim are the best views of the city, and I believe them.
Then we went skating! I brought my skates and showed off, although the crowded public session made it a little difficult. Whitney's rental skates didn't fit very well and she unfortunately had to sit out most of the time (but took pictures!), while Chandra, of course, proved a willing and able student for spinning, bunny hops, and edges. I did tire more easily because of the altitude, but jumps are definitely higher at high altitude. Less gravity? I dunno.
The last day was ski day. We chose our ski place based on location, price, and whether the thing was even open this late in the season, which led us to Ski Loveland. Unfortunately, their beginner area was closed for the season. This should have been a warning.
Figuring Chandra could teach me everything I needed to know, and anyway the ski rental people said Lift 2 was good for beginners, we forged ahead to the top of a green run, which tops out at almost 13,000 feet. The chair lift was one of the more terrifying experiences of my life. There was no safety rail (WHAT KIND OF LIFT-LIKE CONTRAPTION SWINGS YOU SO FAR ABOVE THE GROUND WITH NO SAFETY RAIL???) so I clung to the back and side for dear life and closed my eyes the entire ten
So that was bad enough. It was only going to get worse. Much, much worse.
I fell immediately upon getting off the ski lift. A nice man literally picked up up and set me on my feet. I began to get a sinking feeling in my gut, but continued on because it sure looked like the only way down was via ski.
I made it, oh, ten feet or so, to the top of the slope where most of the runs began. Then I fell on my back and started sliding headfirst very fast down said slope.
At about the point where I was wondering what it would be like to die by ramming headfirst into a tree, which for the record was about fifteen feet down, Chandra caught me. Thank god for friends who know what they're doing. Upright again, we did a brief "here's how you stop" lesson, which at least was familiar from skating (wedge = snowplow stop), before beginning to crabwalk over to the green run we wanted.
Along the way, I thought about how my ski boots had no arch support and were crushing my instep, and how my toes were numb. I thought about the fact that my left knee already hurt a lot from the pigeon-toed wedging I'd done for all of four minutes. I thought about the fact that it was two miles down to the base of the mountain.
I thought, "Nope."
Chandra kindly tromped the 300 yards back to the lift letoff to see what other ways down existed, while Whitney kept me company while we waited. Chandra came back with Ski Patrol Guy Number 1, who pointed to the rescue sled about 100 yards away and said I could get a ride down. I took off my skis and started tromping towards it.
About fifteen steps in, I started thinking, "Gee, this is really hard work." Twenty steps in, I fell to my knees and realized I couldn't actually stand up.
Have you ever wheezed so hard you couldn't talk? I'd never wheezed at all before this, and it was straight-up the most terrifying experience of the day. Ski Patrol Guy Number 1 asked my name, and I think I just shook my head because I couldn't catch enough breath to get out three syllables. SPGN1 went into the calm-but-obviously-concerned demeanor I associate with ER nurses and motioned Ski Patrol Guy Number 2 to bring the sled over. "We're going to get you down," he said. "We're going to give you some oxygen."
Meanwhile, it started snowing. Actually, it had started while we were waiting for Chandra and SPGN1 to get there, and it only intensified as I had my pseudo-asthmatic experience. I was so out of it, Chandra had to tell me to put my coat on (we'd taken them off because we got hot crabwalking). Actually, she pretty much had to put it on me. I have great friends!
I think I made it into the sled under my own power, as the wheezing had calmed down somewhat by then, although it's all a bit of a blur now. SPGN2 hitched the sled to some kind of harness he was wearing, and we started down.
That's about all I remember of the trip down, because I closed my eyes and held on for dear life. There were no restraints to keep you inside the very low-sided sled, because this place apparently doesn't believe in safety features. SPGN2 asked me where I was from a couple of times, and now that I think about he was probably checking to see if the answer stayed the same or if I was really in trouble. Thankfully, I felt much better as we got closer to the bottom.
SPGN1 offered me the oxygen, but warned that while I would feel good while I was breathing it, I would feel worse when I stopped unless I immediately went to a lower altitude. I decided to keep a consistent level of bad and went to turn in my ski stuff and sit in the restaurant until Chandra and Whitney got back.
I drank an entire Nalgene full of water (32 ounces) in less than an hour, but still had a raging headache. I couldn't concentrate on my book, but I had just enough awareness to be able to watch the skiers come in to the base area, which was kind of fun. It was about my speed at that point, anyway.
Then we went back to the condo Chandra's parents generously let us use and had cupcakes and sparkling cider to celebrate Whitney's birthday. Yaaay, vacation!
(I hear I made a good choice not to try to ski down the mountain--not that Ski Patrol Guys actually gave me a choice--because it was poorly marked, steep in spots, and the visibility was nil in the snow. Ugh, this place.)
If I can ever manage to face a ski lift again, I may try again at Gatlinburg, which is around 3,000 feet and has a lot of bunny hills. I think at least one of them involves a rope tow rather than a chair lift, so that might work for me.
Or maybe I'll just stick to skating.
Seriously, though, it was a good vacation and it was nice to see half the group again. PezMoot! Yay!
no subject
Date: 2015-04-27 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-27 06:24 am (UTC)(I know, that's excessively wicked of me. That's what I get for spending the last week choreographing a fic with not one but two melodramatic villains in it.)
no subject
Date: 2015-04-27 03:25 pm (UTC)Could you be anemic?
no subject
Date: 2015-04-28 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-28 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-28 06:22 pm (UTC)Probably I'm anemic, and probably I'm also just not good with altitudes--I had my first bout of altitude sickness in Phoenix when I tried to climb Camelback. I made it about 2,500 feet before petering out.