Depth Charge

Nice to be home.

I left sunny Santa Fe this morning after a brief breakfast at Whole Foods--they have this breakfast "lasagne" that has an eggy mixture baked between layers of thinly sliced potatoes and organic ham, which I smothered with spicy green chili and red chili sauce --that is Christmas style--and a cup of coffee. Headed north, toward southern Colorado, and was loving the smell of roasting chilis and all the farmstands of garlands of red chilis and huge garlic cloves, pumpkins in every shade of orange, and little bushels of local apples. Aside from being chili pepper season it is also pine nut season--people were stopped by the sides of the road with plastic bags, harvesting pine nuts from all the pinon pine trees. I got a couple of red chili pepper wreaths to give some friends here in Telluride and little bag of pine nuts to send my dad for his birthday. They also roast and salt them in the shell to eat like sunflower seeds--I had not heard of that before.

Oh, and I met my upstairs neighbor, the loud one, and it became instantly clear why his movements disallowed sleep for me. His girth equalled his height. He was encased in denim (I was unaware that overalls were made in that size) and a "wife-beater" tank top that I could have used as a bedsheet. Around his sweaty brow was a rolled up red handkerchief. The few teeth that he had were peculiarly arranged in a meaty grin, adorned with crumbs and little drool trails. I think the heavy duffle bags I envisioned him shfting about the room above me may actually have been his lower extremities?

I saw that on my drive. Although there was no sign indicating that it is affectionately referred to as "Wanker Rock" I felt it was worth photographing and sharing. It was much bigger in real life.

My route took me up into Colorado and through Pagosa Springs. It has been interesting noticing that in Hawaii the only roadkill you see, almost exclusively, is mongoose, cat, and the occasional bird. Here, I have seen in the past few days: deer, elk, porcupine, badger, coyote, and, not often enough, a huge pile of denim with a red bandana flapping in your car's exhaust. Hunters are out and about, lots of pdugy men in brilliant orange and camouflage stocking up their freezers for the coming winter.

I got into Durango, where I lived with Erich for one fateful year, running a German restaurant with him and his parents. But that is another story. The only reason I bring it up is that I drove past our old house and it just looked so small. Of course I called him and we chatted about it and then I drove on out of town, up over two mountain passes in the 10,000 foot altitude range and into lovely Silverton. Here is Twilight Peak:

That is in the Weminuche Wilderness, which is the largest wilderness area in the lower 48, I believe, and is one of the most spectacular mountain ranges anywhere.

That woman that I met at the Santa Fe workshop, Maryanne, lives here. In the winter the population is 650. People. Remember the opening scene to "The Shining" when he is driving driving driving on that beautiful winding mountain road? That is this one. It's called the Million Dollar Highway and I liken it to the drive to Hana, except take off anywhere from 40 to 70 degrees and make the dropoffs several hundred feet longer. With no railguards in some places. Oh, and blizzards and black ice. This is where it leads you:

I should mention here that during this whole day of driving and singing along with the disco-kirtan chants I have noticed that I feel really funny. My brain felt like it was expanding and contracting, and sort of shimmering. It was a sensation I have not felt before (which is saying a lot, considering) and it was only after I was poaching myself in Orvis Hot Springs that I realized I was full of shakti. You can read all about it there, but basically I got infused with divine energy and my body was trying to assimilate it. It was almost like a perfect combination of pure, clean LSD and (even rarer) clean MDMA. Except just my brain was feeling it. Everything was shimmering and glowing and leaving little trails behind and I was giddy and felt like a little kid on Christmas, I just couldn't get enough of ANYthing around me. The hot springs are just outside of the next

mountain town, Ouray ("Your Ray of Sunshine") and they have a big pool with smooth pebbles on the bottom and natural stones all around the edges, about the size of the Welcome Center, and then they have...the Lobster Post. Which is exactly 732 degrees Farenheit. I have never made it past my feet. The views from the pool are 13,000 foot peaks of the Sneffles Range, and I watched the sun on a snow-covered slope slowly fade into night and the full moon rise and illuminate the entire landscape. The steam coming off the water looked like the sky was inhaling it up. Oh and remember that abominable snowman from the Rudolf Christmas movie? This guy who resembled him from the neck up floated about naked and when he emerged he then looked like those Japanese monkeys that sit up to their necks in the hot tubs and pick lice out of their friends beards for them.

I finally pull myself away from the hot water and drive the rest of the way up to Telluride, in the full moon, tripping on yogic acid and just as I get up to the entrance to town, I take in the views: a horseshoe-shaped ring of 12- and 13,000 foot peaks with the town nestled in th bottom and the moon blazing down from the exact center of the sky. It was a nice homecoming. Oh! and then I went to the liquor store to get some beer because christ knows I would need some help falling asleep, and look what beer was on sale (that I of course purchased):

Third Eye Pale Ale.