Saturday, May 3, 2008

We’re about to ask the hotel concierge how to find a few sites from my list, when we overhear him telling some senior citizens about a boat tour of the skyscrapers lining the Chicago River. Chicago was the birthplace of the modern skyscraper, back when that word meant a building of ten stories. We’ll soon hear this point of Chicago pride repeated several times by our river guide: “We did it first”…“We did it here first”… “The technology was available, but we were the first to use it.”

We’ve chosen the worst day to sit outside on the open deck of a tour boat for an hour and a half.

We’ve chosen the worst day to sit outside on the open deck of a tour boat for an hour and a half. A freezing wind worthy of an Alaskan winter prevails, until soon my body aches with cold. Stephanie tells me she had a relative who used to say, “There’s no such thing as inclement weather, only inadequate clothing.” And I’m wearing it. Each time the wind penetrates the light spring fleece and windbreaker I brought for my idea of a chilly spring day, I mouth the word “F- - -” to Steph. By the end of the tour, even our guide, a Chicagoan, is shivering visibly, and her voice is shaking.

The Etch A Sketch skyline that draws us into a watery canyon of modernity is much more enchanting than I expected

The Etch A Sketch skyline that draws us into a watery canyon of modernity is much more enchanting than I expected — like one of those past-meets-future cities you might see in a sci-fi movie set against a utopian backdrop. Our guide tells us enough information about each building for us to earn advanced placement credit for architectural degrees. I won’t bother you with the extra-credit details, but here are a few highlights:

- If you count the two antennae on top, the Sears Tower (now the Willis Tower) is still the tallest building in the world.
- The people who developed Chicago in the nineteenth century, back when the waterfront was just mud, had the foresight to require that no tall buildings ever sit right at the lake’s edge where they’d ruin the view.
- If we were to continue down the South Fork, we could take our boat all the way down to the Mississippi River and on to the Gulf of Mexico.
- The architectural styles of Chicago’s high-rises include art deco, modern, post-modern, and contextual (as in: Chicago has an industrial past, so howzabout a building of industrial-looking brick and steel?).
- The art deco, and therefore very symmetrical, old post office was built with a hole in the middle for vehicle traffic to pass through on its way to cross a nearby bridge.

I feel soothed by the reflective curve of towering green glass that bows toward us from 333 Wacker Drive.

As we pass under several of the river’s many bridges, I feel connected to the city as if by the webbed cross-strings of a cat’s cradle. I feel soothed by the reflective curve of towering green glass that bows toward us from 333 Wacker Drive. I feel drawn to the charismatic personality of the Tribune Tower, with its moody, intricate, Gothic elements.

I feel drawn to the charismatic personality of the Tribune Tower, with its moody, intricate, Gothic elements.

When we leave behind the frigid river for the misty shore, I walk to the Tribune Tower to take photos, while Steph walks to Portillo’s Hot Dogs to wait for me indoors, out of the increasing drizzle. The tower’s arches with their graceful carvings of flora and fauna are not disappointing up close. The peacock and other birds carved over the doorway are true works of art.

The peacock and other birds carved over the doorway are true works of art.

Yet I’m most enthralled by the odds and ends of mainly shapeless stones plucked from architectural and natural wonders around the world, which are embedded in the walls of the building. Among them are stones from Saint Peter’s Cathedral in Rome, the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Great Wall of China, the Parthenon, the White House, Alaska’s Mount McKinley (a.k.a. Denali), and Antarctica. I touch those I can reach, as if the feeling of rough cool stone might impart a permanent memory to my fingertips.

I’m stunned by the delicate perfection of a white bas relief of a Chinese man in ancestral garb carved from the stone of an ancient temple in Honan.

As I make my slow way along the stone-pimpled walls, I’m stunned by the unexpected delicacy of a white bas relief carving of a Chinese man in ancestral garb plucked from an ancient temple in Honan. But the rock that moves me most is an ordinary-looking, chipped, white square that’s both smooth and rough to the touch: a piece of the Alamo. The story of the Alamo has always made me uncomfortable: yes, the defenders of the Alamo were courageous and their fate pitiable; and yes, Mexico got a crappy deal when Texas played finders-keepers with their northern lands. I suppose it’s corny to touch a rock and feel this stirring of ambivalent emotions about an event that happened more than 1000 miles away and 170 years ago. But I can’t be alone in this sort of reaction, or why did Colonel McCormick, former Tribune publisher, ask reporters to bring back these bits of rock from around the world?

The rock that moves me most is an ordinary-looking chipped white square that’s both smooth and rough to the touch: a piece of the Alamo.

After spending half an hour caressing the Tribune building like some perverted architect with a stone fetish, I had to run, actually run, to catch up with Steph at Portillo’s. We picked Portillo’s because it’s a good spot to enjoy a proper Chicago dog loaded with everything: relish, mustard, onion, tomato, peppers, and pickles. I skipped the tomato. Tomato on a hot dog? Please, enough is enough.

Portillos is a good spot to enjoy a proper Chicago dog loaded with everything: relish, mustard, onion, tomatoes, peppers, and pickles. I skipped the tomato.

Despite lingering hypothermia from the boat ride and the Tribune Tower touch-a-thon, I’m craving a chocolate milkshake, so I order one. It’s one of the three best I’ve ever had. (The other two were at the Arctic Roadrunner in Anchorage, Alaska and the All For The Better ice cream shop in Englewood, Colorado.) Now I’m shivering sort of violently, even though we’re still sitting inside this oversized indoor hot dog stand. In a city famous for its many magnificent buildings, I can’t seem to find a way out of the cold.

I prefer hiking Colorado’s thirteeners (13,000-foot-peaks) to its fourteeners, because they’re less crowded with peak baggers, yet equally beautiful and often just as challenging. The Herman Gulch trail to The Citadel kicked my butt, and I loved every moment. I was surprised to discover such a wild and untamed jewel so close to I-70.

Many hikers stop at Herman Lake, below Pettingell Peak. But after that it keeps getting better, as the jagged towers of The Citadel appear. The eight-mile round-trip hike took longer than my husband Dale and I anticipated, so I only made it to a patch of high rock just below the twin summits. Even from there, I had a stunning view of the Continental Divide. I plan to return to conquer both peaks.

It’s easy to drive to the Herman Gulch Trail from the Denver area. Take I-70 West and get off at exit 218, the next exit after Bakerville. Bear right on the .1 mile service road, which dead-ends at the trailhead. Here’s what you’ll see when you hit the trail:

When I don’t have time for a long drive or stamina for an all-day hike, but I still want to get away somewhere pretty and enjoy a little workout, I almost always end up on a trail in Boulder. The three-mile Mount Sanitas Loop is close to downtown, but its lovely views encompass plains, foothills, and a glimpse of the snow-capped giants of the Rocky Mountains. It’s a pleasant, if hot and breathless, way to get up-close and personal with rock and sky, and watch civilization become far and wee.

It’s easy to find the Mount Sanitas trail: in Boulder, take Broadway to Mapleton Road and turn west. The trailhead is a few blocks up, just past the Mapleton Medical Center. You’ll pass the trailhead and roadside parking on the right. But I recommend parking in the lot at the Centennial trailhead, just a stone’s throw up the road on the left. From there, a dirt path takes you back to the Mount Sanitas trailhead, as you’ll see at the beginning of this video of the hike my husband Dale and I did this summer:

A couple of weeks ago, my husband Dale and I went on my favorite Colorado hike. It’s an 8.4 mile roundtrip up the South Boulder Creek Trail to the creek’s headwaters at Rogers Pass Lake, and then on over a small saddle to Heart Lake. Thanks to record snowfall this past winter, this summer’s wildflowers have been more plentiful than ever - and in the James Peak Wilderness that’s saying something. In fact, this hike has all my favorite features: lively streams and waterfalls, prolific flowers, an uphill workout that’s not a painful trudge, a combination of shady trails and sunny meadows, craggy mountains circling glacial blue lakes, and nary a view of town or road.

The trail starts at the East Portal of The Moffat Tunnel at about 9,211 feet and climbs to 11,310 feet. To reach the trailhead, take Rollins Pass Road west from highway 72 at Rollinsville. The 8.2-mile dirt road dead-ends at the tunnel. Check out this two-and-a-half-minute video to see why it’s worth the trip:

Hiking to Heart Lake - James Peak Wilderness, near Rollinsville, Colorado from Cara Lopez Lee on Vimeo.

I don’t feel like I’ve had a day off unless I get out in the sun and do something. Sometimes I almost work harder on my days off - skiing, hiking, biking, gardening - than I do on workdays, when I spend most of the day sitting at a keyboard. Playing outside relaxes me, even more than meditation or yoga - talk about hard work!

Playing outside relaxes me, even more than meditation or yoga - talk about hard work!

In spring, I garden, and in summer, I hike. Both are simple ways to honor the adventurer in me, in between big-ticket challenges. On those spring days when the garden doesn’t need me, I do easy hikes, to ramp up to my summer push into the high country. Early in the season, I’m still a bit lazy, not yet ready to rise at dawn to reach the top of a mountain before afternoon storms turn me into a small but effective lightning rod. So, in May, I tend to keep my hikes close to town and no-brainer.

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I had my skis tuned over the weekend, and when I picked them up on Sunday, the young woman who took my money stared at my skis with disdain and said, “Wow, those skis are old. How long have you had them?”

“About seven years.”

“Wow,” she repeated, and not in a tone that suggested admiration. I felt embarrassed, and defensive. Maybe she can afford to buy new skis every year or two, but I can’t. Did I mention I’m a freelance writer? So at our house, we use things until they don’t work. These old skis still work - pretty well, I might add.

These old skis still work - pretty well, I might add.

I thought of an article I read in The Onion in December: “New Device Desirable, Old Device Undesirable.” It lampooned the idea that everyone wanted the “New Device” for Christmas because the “Old Device” was, well, old. One fake quote said of the New Device: “Its attractiveness and considerable value are, by extension, my attractiveness and considerable value.” I wondered if the young woman at the ski shop felt that way about her skis or snowboard. Maybe she thought I was out of touch, and didn’t consider that I might simply be out of cash.

Which begs the question: if I’m low on funds, why ski at all?

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The raspberry lets go of the vine with a soft tug. And another, and another. As I move down rows of bowing green bushes dangling plump rubies, the sun drills my neck with the last blast of summer. I’m reconnecting with my food, going a step farther than the farmers market, straight to the source.

Berry Patch Farms’ is backed by the Rocky Mountains, and fronted by a red barn, skittish chickens, and a truly porky pig.

Just a half hour from my Denver home, tears spring to my eyes as I consider Berry Patch Farms’ long green rows of fruits and veggies — backed by the Rocky Mountains, and fronted by a red barn, skittish chickens, and a truly porky pig. In the city, it’s easy to forget how natural this feels: gathering food from the earth.

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I’ve had such a busy summer, I’ve grown adept at finding hikes that get me out of Denver without taking all day. It was the name of this little trail in Centennial Cone Park that grabbed me: Mayhem Gulch. The name is misleading; the trail is reasonably tame, despite an uphill slog at the start. My husband, Dale, and I walked the 4.5 mile loop. If you go on a weekend, be aware of one unusual rule: on Saturday and Sunday, the park is restricted to mountain bikers on even days and hikers on odd days. The trail starts next to the highway between Golden and Black Hawk, but as you’ll see in this video, the backside offers a respite that will take your city blues away.

Hiking Mayhem Gulch - Centennial Cone Park, near Golden, Colorado from Cara Lopez Lee on Vimeo.

On one of the closing days of an Alaska summer, my husband and I take his sister and her husband to the State Fair in Palmer. When I lived in the Last Frontier, I enjoyed the fair year after year, even though it’s small – because it’s small. This will be a perfect way for siblings and in-laws to enjoy an activity together, regardless of differing interests.

Dale’s brother-in-law, Nathan, and sister, Luann: the Alaska State Fair is a perfect place to enjoy an activity together, regardless of differing interests.

My sister-in-law, Luann, has suggested we go to The Beach Boys concert at the fair. A California Girl flying from Denver to Alaska to see The Beach Boys? That’s too much irony to pass up. However, I wonder, “Aren’t they Beach Men yet?”

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The summer hiking season is winding down, but it’s still easy to enjoy some great trails well into fall. If you live or travel in the Denver area, you might want to consider one of the hikes I’ve done lately in Colorado’s high country.

When I’m not interested in researching new options, but simply looking for a no-brainer that will deliver a gorgeous day hike, I head to Brainard Lake Recreation Area near the tiny town of Ward. There’s a $9 entry fee, but considering the many trails my husband Dale and I enjoy for free, we don’t mind paying now and then. Below is a look at what our nine bucks bought us on the five-mile round trip walk to Blue Lake:

Hiking to Blue Lake from Cara Lopez Lee on Vimeo.