There are two this here that are ironic. First, that I'm actually bloging. Second, is the actual meat of this post. It's both awful and rewarding at the same time...sorta like being a masochist.
So I leave for spring break, this was last week because Fort Lewis College has theirs early, and southwest Colorado is having one of the driest winters in recent memory (i.e. only marginal snow). We have not been blessed like the rest of the friggen state (lucky basterds). It's practically summer in Durango. As consequence, I've been hiking, biking, and golfing in winter months that are usually reserved only for skiing. Isn't that depressing?
In any case, I'm down in down in Phoenix for spring break...basically much ado about nothing. So the weekend rolls around and it's time to head back to Colorado. Wouldn't you know it...a HUGE storm nails the southwestern part of the US. Its raining in Phoenix...PHOENIX!!! In fact, it was SNOWING at higher altitudes. Naturally, I'm nowhere near any kind of ski hill, yet cold cruel mother nature chooses that it's the best time to dump 2-3 feet in places like Flagstaff, Cortez, Moab, and Durango. All this is happening and I'm in the desert...WHY?!?!?!?! It's like being at an orgy but you can't get any.
So Sunday I fight a uphill battle with a 10 hour drive...but at last reach Durango...only to have class the next day at 8 am. Again...I'm stuck up Shit Creek without a paddle.
Tuesday I get up into the mountains at long last. It was prime! It's been so long since my Seth Pistols have tasted freshies. I and a handful of friends tore up the bc with a snowmobile and 12 hours of daylight. It's good to be back.
As I type this, it is still cloudy and snowing up in the San Juans. It always seems to snow a ton whenever I leave town for a few days. Is there a moral to this? Well, I guess I should leave town more often.