Colorado

Good to be back in the state we called home for over two decades. Nothing competes with a Colorado summer.

Our spot at Riverview RV park just west of Loveland, CO. When the sister-in-law and her kids came up to visit, the office indicated "your relatives are in spot #138, designated for the handicapped". WHAT THE HECK?? See, I can't let the wife's Iphone out of my sight, always calling the reservations line on me when I am not looking. Hey, I wasn't about to move, so I randomly limped around and reached for my lower back and winced a few times while I was outside. It worked out.

A Colorado summer snowstorm? Well, not really. Those are the sheddings from cottonwood trees at our park. Allergy specialists and big-pharma rejoice!

Brynn, our 7 year old niece, joined us for a night and enjoyed grillin' her first Smore. I so wish I would have had a single Black Cat firecracker to insert into that marshmallow when she wasn't paying attention. Okay, stop with the collective "oh that's so mean" whine. This is the girl who often wants to challenge her old, decrepit Uncle to a race, so I call this strategy "creative training". You know, like you see on The Biggest Loser and such.

Eight glorious days camped along the Big Thompson River 5 miles west of Loveland, CO. In a 4 hour time span in 1976 along this stream, a stationary thunderstorm dumped 12" of rain and brought down a 20 foot wall of water originating near Estes Park. Sadly, 143 people died in the aftermath. Not sure about you, but I am thankful for the advances of Doppler radar and Reverse 9-1-1. This RV'er does not climb trees well.

Water was not our concern during our stay, the High Park fire that ravaged 40,000 acres west of Ft. Collins, CO. was. In this photo, the south perimeter of the inferno was only 6 miles from our campground. Coming from a 22 year background in 9-1-1 emergency services, got me to thinking about a midnight evacuation plan in the event the winds switched and it started marching toward us. I agreed to secure the tube of Pringles and the Folgers coffee can and Teri would wake me up when she was done hitching. I would then drive us out. Masterful plan went unneeded.

This is the sign that appeared on the door the day after 40,000 acres had been gobbled by fire, 14 different aerial tanker had done low "fly-bys" and our campground smelled like a chimney sweeper's van. I think the manager's name was Captain Obvious.


Leaving the forest of northern Colorado, headed into suburbia where we meet up with friends and family for the next couple of weeks. Chances of being engulfed by a forest fire will be significantly less. The journey continues, day 69.