Creede

Got in a traffic jam today, just as we entered town. A fishing guide, pulling a drift boat on a trailer, had pulled his truck alongside another truck to roll down the window and talk.

We had to drive around.

Creede

Creede downtown. Yes, it is rush hour. That's the client on the right, the theatre.

Last week we had a three mile commute (round trip) from the campground to the client in Grand Lake. This week, more driving, we have a ten mile round trip.

Creede

The town of Grand Lake is named after the largest natural lake in Colorado, Grand Lake. The lake is fed by the Grand River, except it’s not called the Grand River anymore, they renamed it the Colorado River. I guess they could have followed it downstream, renaming everything else too, but decided not to. Grand Lake, Grand County, Grand Junction, Grand Mesa, Grand Canyon.

From Grand Lake to Creede, a 300 mile mountain day. From Northern Colorado, right down the middle, to Southern Colorado. From the headwaters of the Colorado, past the headwaters of the Arkansas, to the headwaters of the Rio Grande. A river Day. Only one high mountain pass, Fremont, 11,200, right before Leadville. Pretty much all downhill from there, except for Poncha Pass into the San Luis Valley, but that’s not even 10,000 feet high.

Creede. What a place. It looks like a movie set. Not just the town, everything.

Newsflash!

We got through an entire click-it-or-ticket weekend; a three hundred mile drive; without a single traffic violation; not a single unrestrained wife.

Grand lake

From the second floor window of the administrative office of the repertory theatre in Grand Lake, I look out the window to the alley across the street where we played catch with the football at the first family reunion back in 1985. As I recall, Joanie was hucking it and we were taking turns going deep. Leatherwood was the name of the lodge. Grand Lake is still Grand Lake.

Grand lake

Our camp.

Grand lake

I shouldn’t like the Steamboat RV Park as much as I do. It’s an old KOA; probably doesn’t meet their standards anymore. It’s a funky place. Lot’s of old rigs with people living in them as “affordable” housing. Back-to-back sites. Basically, a trailer park.

But boy is it loaded with birds… and trees… and flowers. The Yampa River flows right through it, with an old bridge across the river to tent camping sites on the other side. I can make a circuitous walk following every road and every loop that takes about half an hour to do one lap.

But that’s it for Steamboat. There is a repertory theatre in Grand Lake that needs attention. We worked at the coach in the morning, left by eleven, had lunch at the top of Rabbit Ears Pass (our third time over that pass in the last ten days), drove down to Kremmling, and followed the Colorado River northeast to Grand Lake, the western portal to Rocky Mountain National Park. We’re high here, 8,500 feet, and rugged. The RV Park has streams all through it, and sites cut into the willows and forest. It’s like a forest service park, (which we have generally sized ourselves out of), but we can fit here, and it has full hookups! What a fun place to be. Our first walk outside the coach, we found ourselves within ten feet of a yearling moose, standing on the other side of a willow, munching his way through the bush towards us.

Hummingbirds, juncos, moose, a red fox crossed the trail within three feet of me. Yes. This is where we want to be.

Steamboat

We’re back with the orioles. Orioles are common here. The local stores recognize that and even sell a specific oriole feeder. It’s like a big hummingbird feeder, except it has orange food in it, and a big picture of an orange on it. Orioles like oranges. We know because last time we were here, we put out a big slice of orange on the bird feeder, and the oriole used to fly right over and stand next to it while contemplating how best to get at the hummingbird feeder and get all that yummy hummingbird food.

But this trip is different. We now have the oriole feeder on the bird feeding rack. The oriole feeder looks really good there, hanging from the bird feeder rack while the oriole feeds from the little hummingbird feeder on the window.

Life bird

Last week while we were in Steamboat, we checked out Steamboat Lake State Park and Pearl Lake State Park, about twenty-five miles north of town. We heard bird calls from the treetops we couldn’t identify, but never got the birds in the field glasses so we didn’t know what we were hearing. I recorded the calls, though, and over the next few days searched the birding program on the computer for it. I finally found it. Red Crossbills.

Red Crossbills. We’ve never seen that bird. So tonight after work, we went straight back to Pearl Lake State Park. It’s still closed for the season, but we could hike in. High country forest. We got there and it was silent; not a bird to be heard. Judy asked what the crossbill call sounded like, so I played it back for her on the digital recorder. As soon as I played it, red crossbills flew in from all over and answered the call. We got great looks at them.

Life bird. Gorgeous park too.

Steamboat

Done with the Boulder County Fairgrounds in Longmont. South on Sunday morning through the Denver Metro area and up the grades at Genesee and Floyd Hill on Interstate 70, through Idaho Springs, past the giant water wheel, and hang a right on US 40 over Berthoud Pass. A cruise through Winter Park, Granby, Hot Sulphur Springs, and Kremmling. Over Rabbit Ears pass and coast down to Steamboat Springs by lunch.

Last week while we were here, the Orioles sucked all the food out of the hummingbird feeders. When the window feeder had been drained, one particular Oriole would cling to the window ledge directly opposite me and squawk until I refilled it. This week, we’re still surrounded by Orioles, Kingbirds, Robins, and Swallows, but the only birds on the hummingbird feeder have been black chinned hummingbirds. This week’s bonus bird… Yellow Warblers. Saw several, and heard maybe a dozen.

Something fun

The AICPA (American Institute of Certified Public Accountants) got wind of what we do and assigned someone to check us out. They do an article in the Journal of Accountancy each month, singling out a CPA or practice to feature. We got the inside back cover of the May issue.

Longmont

A year or so ago I wrote about the conversation I had with Teigan, where she analyzed what we have done, moving out of our house and into the motorhome, and concluded she doesn’t want to live in her car when she grows up. Well, now we’ve had that conversation with Conner too. He got a chance to give the coach a good look; explore the interior; his verdict…. Grandma. You live in a Monster Truck!

So our poor granddaughter grows up thinking her grandparents are always on the move, probably in the witness protection program, living in their car, but our grandson probably thinks he has the coolest grandparents in the world, living in a monster truck.

This week

Well, I was telling you everywhere we were and what we were doing, but I lost track. We were in Glenwood headed for Taos, when we found out Taos had rescheduled, so we headed to Steamboat Springs to see if we could start them early, but there were still a few more days before we could do that, so we went to Yampa River State Park. That Sunday night we moved to a park right in Steamboat and met with Warren as he passed through on his way to Craig to do a job for us there because originally we didn’t have room for it in our schedule, when we found out we couldn’t start the Steamboat job early after all, so actually we had no jobs schedule for the week, so we drove down to the County Fairgrounds in Longmont so we could be near the kids while we didn’t have any jobs scheduled, and as soon as we got here, heard from the Grand Lake job (which is right up in the Steamboat Springs neighborhood) that needed some attention so it could be finished. We arranged to stay here through Saturday, drive back to Steamboat Springs on Sunday, do the Steamboat job on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, move to Grand Lake and do that job on Thursday and Friday, then head South for Creede on Saturday.

Meanwhile, arriving at Becky’s house is like coming home from college. We arrive at the door, bundles of laundry in our arms, asking if we can use the shower, and what’s for dinner. There is something that feels really good about that.

Got to attend an elementary school band concert. Tony plays the flute. Impressive for a gang of eight, nine and ten year-olds who only started their instruments this year.

Birds on the road

We feed the birds. Simple enough; until a bear comes along to eat the birdfeeder. But as soon as we got to the next location we got it out again. Got a lot of hummingbirds there at Yampa River State Park. Love watching those little hummers come and go.

Now we are in Steamboat Springs, birdfeeders out, watching the hummingbirds on the little window feeder stuck right next to my desk. I can sit and work and watch the little hummers come and go… except…the hummers can’t get to the hummingbird feeder because the orioles are hogging it all the time.

Can you spot ...

Can you spot the wife in this picture?

Yampa river

The camp at Yampa River State Park.

Grouse

And the greater sage grouse. Head up, tail up, chest puffed.

Grouse

A little later in the morning, better light, sharp tailed grouse. Normally leks are bare patches of dirt where the birds dance. The sharp tailed grouse just danced in the grass.

Head down, wings out, tail up.

Grouse

In the predawn light, gunnison sage grouse. Head up, tail up, chest puffed.

Grouse

Here in a riparian forest along the river surrounded by sageland hills? Grouse live in sageland hills. A phone call to the division of wildlife the day before. Up at dawn. At the lek by six. Seventy-five yards away, Sharp-Tailed Grouse, wings extended horizontally, heads down, sharp white tails up, buzzing and clucking. They danced for almost an hour before they suddenly stopped and flew off. Off to the next spot; we were there by seven; an overlook over rolling grassy hills covered with flowers. Three hundred yards away, Greater Sage Grouse puffing and strutting for another half hour. Home and back to work by eight.

Life on the road.

Life on the road

Up at dawn, packed up, pulled out, headed for Taos. It will be a full day driving. Straight down the middle of Colorado. Glenwood Springs to Minturn, then south on Highway 24 to Leadville, through Buena Vista, Salida, into the San Luis Valley, through Alamosa, continue south following the Rio Grande into New Mexico and on to Taos. Highways, not freeways. It’s a great drive. But while we were still in the driveway of the RV Park in Glenwood Springs, the phone rang. It was Jamie at the office. The Taos client isn’t ready.

Oops.

So we idle. Now what? Got to do something. Hey, the Steamboat job the week after has already sent their advance stuff into the office and Jamie has it set up. Maybe they can take us a week early. It's still only 7:30 am. It takes a while to sort out, but it is likely that we can do the Steamboat job next week, so we drive north instead of south. Glenwood Springs to Rifle, then north on Colorado 13 through Rio Blanco, past the turn-off to Rangely, through Meeker, and on to Craig. A right turn on US 40 at Craig takes us to Yampa River State Park outside Hayden. We’ll set up here to work and wait to see if we get to go on to Steamboat. We’re perfectly situated. Steamboat is only about a half hour away from here. Here in a riparian forest along the river surrounded by sageland hills.

Eighty degrees, blue sky, puffy white clouds. The low is going to be about fifty. We can do this.

Life on the road.

Bear damage

We thought beating up the bird feeders was the only damage the bear was going to do, but noooooooooo. We had noticed that he had knocked the dump hose loose from the receptacle while he was stumbling around the outside of our motorhome in the night. No big deal, we just put it back together properly. Well, tomorrow is a travel day, so I spent some time disconnecting and putting stuff away in preparation. In the process, I discovered the two inch gash in our brand new heavy-duty dump hose. Didn’t look like tooth marks. I don’t think he bit it. He probably stepped on it against something sharp. Good for us the cut wasn’t right in the middle, it was more toward one end. Some quick work with a knife and wire cutters, and the dump hose is as good as before, just a little shorter.

Tonight, the bird feeders are stowed, the hoses are stowed, the flower pots are put away. We should get an early getaway tomorrow morning.

Night before last...

...the bird feeder got knocked over. We got up the next morning to the whole thing in a pile on the ground. Some seed had spilled, but nothing was eaten, so maybe it wasn’t an animal. There had been some teenagers messing around across the road the evening before. The bird feeder is out front of the coach so we can see it through the windshield during the day. Pretty easy to get to. The kids could have knocked it over after dark. Or it could have been the wind, but we had left the awning out overnight and nothing triggered the wind sensor. Judy thought it was probably raccoons. I figured it was a bear.

We decided to reconfigure and narrow it down. We put the birdfeeder assembly all back together, but behind the motorhome this time. Less likely kids will casually get back there and mess with it. We kept the good feeders in and hung the suet back up. Next night, boom. Annie starts barking. The feeder is down. Judy goes outside with a flashlight to chase the raccoons. I don’t think its raccoons. We have a heavy metal post on a heavy metal stand, with heavy rocks piled on the base. A raccoon climbing the pole would exert a vertical force. He might trash the feeders and knock them down, but I don’t think he’s going to generate the horizontal force to knock the whole contraption down. I stayed in the house.

Tonight, there were headlights in the park; not an RV coming in late, but headlights starting and stopping and turning. They had a spotlight; and the guy walking around outside of the truck had a badge; and a gun. Wildlife wardens, responding to the call of a marauding bear in the neighborhood.

No more birdfeeders outside at night here. Judy spent the rest of the night watching out the window for the bear.

Things not to do while motorhoming...

CORRECTION!

It was the KOA in Junction, not the KOA in Van Horn. Van Horn good. Junction bad.

---

From: Steve Taylor [mailto:spt@thetaylorcompany.net]
Sent: Monday, May 07, 2007 8:07 PM
To: 'Tom Taylor'; 'Bill Taylor (Bill Taylor)'; 'David Taylor (David Taylor)'
Subject: RE: things not to do while motorhoming...

"And good on your motorhome for being tolerant enough to survive the dirty power situation uharmed."

It notices things before we do, then takes preemptive action. It got us in trouble in a KOA in Van Horn. We plugged in, the shore power didn't come on. We checked the screen inside and it said we had a ground fault.

We were on our way to do something else, so we stopped by the office, told them we had a ground fault, and left. Lots of staff there. They would know how to take care of it, and sure enough, when we got back, the power was on. Trouble is, the next staff person that saw us told us they checked the electricity and there was nothing wrong with it. Who cares what the problem was, it works; but they got pretty pushy about telling us we reported a problem that wasn't there. Every staff person we met after that began the conversation with, "Oh, you're the people who said they had an electrical problem but didn't". Apparently we had attacked the integrity of their park and offended the whole lot of them.

I blame it on the coach.

---

From: Tom Taylor [mailto:code-boy@earthlink.net]
Sent: Sunday, May 06, 2007 9:08 AM
To: Steve Taylor; Bill Taylor (Bill Taylor); David Taylor (David Taylor)
Subject: Re: things not to do while motorhoming...

Great troubleshooting! And good on your motorhome for being tolerant enough to survive the dirty power situation uharmed.

----- Original Message -----

From: Steve Taylor

To: Bill Taylor (Bill Taylor) ; David Taylor (David Taylor) ; Tom Taylor (Tom Taylor)

Sent: Saturday, May 05, 2007 8:09 PM

Subject: things not to do while motorhoming...

Well, it’s not like we decided to do it, we certainly didn’t want to do it, but we had to troubleshoot the furnace today. It’s not the first time we’ve had to troubleshoot a furnace. Several years ago, when we had a different motorhome with a propane furnace, it quit and we had to get it fixed. As I recall, a repair guy had to replace the furnace motherboard. Within a couple months it failed again, in a different state, and a repair guy there replaced the limit switch. That took care of it.

But this is different. This is a hydro-hot furnace. It runs on diesel. It’s supposed to run on diesel anyway. It has always run on diesel before, but Judy got up at 6 and it was cold in the front room, 55 degrees, so she turned up the thermostat. Nothing. She turned up the bedroom thermostat. Nothing. She got analytical on it. It runs off the same diesel the engine does. She turned on the key and checked the fuel tank. Plenty of fuel. She turned on the hot water (the hydro-hot system serves both the furnaces and the hot water). The hot water was hot. She ran the water for a few minutes. It stayed hot, so she knew the problem wasn’t the hydro-hot burner, but some control that triggers the furnaces. She got out the manual for the hydro-hot. No help. She went outside and looked in the cabinet the hydro-hot lives in. No reset button. Still no heat. Can’t turn on the heat pumps; they don’t work at all below freezing and really don’t do much until the outside temperature warms up toward the forties. She turned on the little electric space heater in the front room and came back to bed.

After she warmed up, we both got up. We flipped any breaker in the control box that looked like it might help. Nothing. It’s getting colder. It’s snowing outside. Checked out the electrical status display. It said we had an open ground on the 30 amp shore power. That shouldn’t affect the furnace; it runs on 12 volts. It shouldn’t be the electrical power; everything else in the coach is on. Of course, if the 120 volt power goes out, the inverter just takes over and runs all the 120 volt stuff off the batteries. That complicates the analysis. Checked the inverter display. It said we had high voltage on line 1. Still shouldn’t affect the furnace, but we’re starting to suspect an electrical supply problem. Let’s bypass the shore power. Turned on the generator. 50+ amps of 240 volt power. No help.

One thing left to try. We’re getting error readings on the shore power; let’s disconnect it completely. Victory! That was it! Dirty electrons coming out of the campground power source! Dirty power.

All systems go. Hydro-hot burner cooking. Heater fans blowing. A lot of space to warm up, but within an hour we were toasty.

Life on the road.

Glenwood springs

Happy Anniversary to us. Forty-one. Already.

A good day at work. A quiet dinner at home.

Why

...it's so hard to leave Ridgway State Park.

This is the view out our window.

Things not to do while motorhoming...

Well, it’s not like we decided to do it, we certainly didn’t want to do it, but we had to troubleshoot the furnace today. It’s not the first time we’ve had to troubleshoot a furnace. Several years ago, when we had a different motorhome with a propane furnace, it quit and we had to get it fixed. As I recall, a repair guy had to replace the furnace motherboard. Within a couple months it failed again, in a different state, and a repair guy there replaced the limit switch. That took care of it.

But this is different. This is a hydro-hot furnace. It runs on diesel. It’s supposed to run on diesel anyway. It has always run on diesel before, but Judy got up at 6 and it was cold in the front room, 55 degrees, so she turned up the thermostat. Nothing. She turned up the bedroom thermostat. Nothing. She got analytical on it. It runs off the same diesel the engine does. She turned on the key and checked the fuel tank. Plenty of fuel. She turned on the hot water (the hydro-hot system serves both the furnaces and the hot water). The hot water was hot. She ran the water for a few minutes. It stayed hot, so she knew the problem wasn’t the hydro-hot burner, but some control that triggers the furnaces. She got out the manual for the hydro-hot. No help. She went outside and looked in the cabinet the hydro-hot lives in. No reset button. Still no heat. Can’t turn on the heat pumps; they don’t work at all below freezing and really don’t do much until the outside temperature warms up toward the forties. She turned on the little electric space heater in the front room and came back to bed.

After she warmed up, we both got up. We flipped any breaker in the control box that looked like it might help. Nothing. It’s getting colder. It’s snowing outside. Checked out the electrical status display. It said we had an open ground on the 30 amp shore power. That shouldn’t affect the furnace; it runs on 12 volts. It shouldn’t be the electrical power; everything else in the coach is on. Of course, if the 120 volt power goes out, the inverter just takes over and runs all the 120 volt stuff off the batteries. That complicates the analysis. Checked the inverter display. It said we had high voltage on line 1. Still shouldn’t affect the furnace, but we’re starting to suspect an electrical supply problem. Let’s bypass the shore power. Turned on the generator. 50+ amps of 240 volt power. No help.

One thing left to try. We’re getting error readings on the shore power; let’s disconnect it completely. Victory! That was it! Dirty electrons coming out of the campground power source! Dirty power.

All systems go. Hydro-hot burner cooking. Heater fans blowing. A lot of space to warm up, but within an hour we were toasty.

Life on the road.

Silverton

Last weekend we got to drive through Ouray over Red Mountain pass to Silverton to meet with a potential contract auditor. Old mountain mining towns.

Birders are...

Birders are a strange lot. They get up before dawn and go tramping about while it’s still cold and dark outside. Not the sort of thing we’d normally do. We’re not morning people.

Except this morning. Up at 4am. Out of the house by 4:30. At the Gunnison Sage Grouse lek by 5. Park behind the half-wall. Engine off, lights out, don’t leave the car. Blackout and silence. Grouse lek protocol. Its thirty degrees outside. No-one gets to move or make a sound until the grouse leave the lek. They are most active in the hour before dawn. They are disturbed by artificial light and human presence. The males come out of the sagebrush and congregate on the lek, the dancing ground, the bare patch of earth, and do their puffing booming strutting dance. The most impressive males get the females.

The display was a long way away, probably three hundred yards, but we have good birding binoculars and a scope we could rest against the partly open window. We got the whole show. Nothing, nothing, nothing, then suddenly at 5:45 a whole group of males broke out in the open in the dimmest light and began their strutting. Dancing shadows. The performance got clearer as it got lighter. Puffed up chests, flared tails, bulging air sacs, dancing fools. Suddenly, at 6:15 it was over. The birds just flew away to the sage highlands. Done for the day. They will be done for the season soon. Breeding season only lasts six weeks. They’ll be done by mid-May.

A life bird. The Gunnison Sage Grouse. Very limited range; a tiny spot in Colorado. Not many people get to see them, maybe a few hundred a year. When we were sure Elvis had left the building, we started up, warmed up, and left. Back to the coach by seven. Gone from Gunnison by nine, at the Russell Stover Candy Factory Store in Montrose by eleven, and set-up in Ridgway State Park eating lunch by noon.

Gunnison

The camp at gunnison.

Crested butte

Oh I love a good commute. I used to drive twenty-five miles each way to Denver and back. I drove off-peak traffic times, so it was quiet time for reflection and music. Relaxing, really.

Now it’s different. Sometimes we park the motorhome close enough to walk to work. Usually we’re within a few minutes in the car. But here, in Gunnison, we have a forty-five minute commute through the mountains to Crested Butte each day. It’s not spectacular mountain pass road, but wide-open traffic-free high country highway. Colorado Highway 135 north from US 50 follows river valleys, first the Gunnison, then the East, then the Slate, through pastoral forests farms and fields, right into the old 1800s mining town, elevation eighty-eight hundred feet, at the base of surrounding high peaks.

There is still snow on the ground in Crested Butte.