This had my name written all over it. (“Craig” means “dweller of the crag”.)
After climbing the first Flatiron, we only got a few hours of nap time. After some shopping, (new climbing shoes!) we heading into Boulder Canyon to climb on some granite in a “sport climbing” setup – meaning the rock had countless rock bolts set making it super easy to setup the fall protection.
Turned out I was so burnt from the previous day, I could only do a couple small sections. On the up side, I got to spend a lot of time belaying Mike while he worked on some project routes.
Getting to the climb involved a short walk down the road, traversing the roaring creek on a tyrolean traverse and a short walk back up the other side. Seriously fun!
Picking and preparing gear.
View of the rope slung from the granite block on the left, across the creek to the tree.
A gallery of a few photos from my first hike in Colorado. I arrived late in the evening on Saturday, and this was my first exertion to see how the altitude really felt. Great little hike up a couple hundred feet.
Red Rocks trail leading up from the Mt Sanitas trailhead.
First glimpse of the flatirons (on the horizon) as you crest the Red Rocks trail.
The Red Rocks formation; A small prominence at the top of the trail.
View of the first flatiron from atop the Red Rocks.
Almost to Boulder. Spent the night — after some epic delays in Allentown, missed connections, missed standby, and terminal hussle in Chicago — in Louisville Co. Caught up with Mike; dinner, beer, and probabaly the last/only night under a roof. Sorted all my gear out this morning, and Mike’s leaving me the van for today. Couple stops, then off to try a trail hike to see how this “thin air” really works out.
33lbs in the backpack (in the sea bag, for airline check luggage), 9lbs in the little pack for carryon.
All of this, comes out of those two little bags. A couple days before I left for Colorado, Mike and I set up a video call to do a gear shake-down. I started with the two packed bags, and then unpacked everything.
USS Furse (DD-882/DDR-882) was a Gearing-class destroyer of the United States Navy, named for Lieutenant John H. Furse USN (1886–1907).
My father served aboard as a fire control technician (as in “gun fire”); He operated a radar tracking and guidance system which controlled the targeting of the ships guns. At other times (I believe “special sea and anchor detail” being the correct parlance) he was tasked as a “phone talker” which generally entailed following a half step behind the officer of the deck (i.e., the officer commanding the ship at any given moment) and relaying communications through a microphone and headset he was wearing. (So if the Captain wants to single up all lines, he can simply say, “fo’c’s’le, bridge, single up.” and the ever-present, invisible sailer repeats it into the phones.)
Anyway. Here is a small collection of photos my father took of USS Furse.
Some of my readers are salty dogs, and will wonder how a sailor took photos of his own ship under way. During a Mediterranean cruise, Furse exchanged some sailors with a French destroyer during joint maneuvers.
Here’s a shot my dad took in 1968 when they were at Niagara Falls for their honeymoon. I have two galleries coming soon; the rest of their honeymoon photos, and the photos from our (Tracy and I) trip to Niagara Falls in 2011.
Way back in 1980, my dad arranged to help a friend (a navy buddy if I recall correctly) named Drew move his yacht from Cat Island (in the Bahamas) to Miami.
It was as much a vacation for us, as it was us helping Drew and his wife move their boat. We took a commercial flight to Nassau and spent a day or two there. From Nassau, we took this little charter plane to Cat Island… which is just a spit of sand with nothing on it other than a tiny “runway”. From there we sailed the 200+ miles to Miami.
To make the “crossing”, my dad and Drew had to stay up in shifts sailing through the night. Although it does take some attention to detail to navigate, the real concern is that the area is thick with commercial shipping and the “rule of gross tonnage” suggests it is unwise to assert right-of-way (any sailing vessel has the legal right-of-way over any powered vessel.) So we prudently dodged enormous ships who couldn’t see us (visually) and probably didn’t care even if they did notice us on radar (via Drew’s radar reflector.) Anyway.
Do I remember anything in particular? Absolutely. I remember staying up all night, on the open sea, in the pitch black. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face… nothing but star-light. And the stars… The constellations looked to fall out of the sky onto your head.
Nassau from waaaaay up.
Cat Island. Our ride is the anchored yacht; Start walking.
A classic shot from ‘Dr. No’ !
Drew (left) and my dad schlepping provisions aboard.
Yes, they really left the 9-year-old at the helm.
Safe bet: Just moments before I got into trouble.
One of my all-time favorite shots because it’s probably the first photo I ever took of my parents.
There’s nothing like standing on the bow of sailboat underway. (srsly)
