Back from LA...
...with all my stuff!
I spent a week in LA trying to unload all my belongings before shlepping that with which I just could not part back to Chicago. I even made Luke sit outside with me all day Saturday having a yard sale. We got pretty burned but took in almost enough to pay for 8 days and unlimited miles in a minivan. I think his forehead peeled for a week.
Oh, the van, the van... I rented a seven-passenger Mazda MPV and, as you can see, packed it absolutely full. Luke bought some new flip flops in Colorado and had to squeeze them into the glove compartment. But it all fit...sort of. The seats didn't exactly recline.
We took a detour from I-10 north through Colorado to I-70, stopping in Jerome, AZ; Silverton, CO; and for two nights in Crested Butte, CO. This was my fifth trip to C.B., where I always stay at the Christiana Guesthaus. The innkeepers Martin and Rosie offer a hot tub, homemade granola for breakfast, and friendly hospitality. This visit to the wildflower-peeping and mountain biking mecca of the Rockies was all too short, but I will be back.
Here's a picture Luke took of a townie bike in Crested Butte, where everyone rides around on old Schwinns when they're not ripping through singletrack on $3000 cross-country racing rigs. C.B. is a funny mix of bourgeois tourists and 50-year-old hippies prolonging childhood indefinitely.
A fully-loaded minivan is not the vehicle of choice for rural Colorado. Despite my vehicular limitations, however, I was determined to drive up dirt Gothic Mountain road to 11,000' Schofield Pass, where one passes beautiful Emerald Lake and trails set off through fields of wildflowers into the Maroon Bells-Snowmass wilderness area.
The van made it up that hill, although I did blow out one tire on a pothole earlier in the trip. The spare wasn't exactly accessible, given that I had spent three hours packing stuff on top of it, but luckily the tire survived long enough to make it to Crested Butte's small mechanic shop. The friendly owner at first informed me we'd be waiting a few days to order a tire, since the nearest Dunlop dealer was 250 miles away in Denver. This would've been a problem. Luckily he located a single, dusty used tire of the appropriate dimensions from the back of the storage area, and we were on our way.
Upon returning the vehicle, Hertz reimbursed me for $40 I had spent on the tire and failed to comment on the fact that the side panel of the van was coming a little unstuck after Luke hit a piece of debris on the highway. I had tried to McGyver it back together with a little piece of wire, but one couldn't tell because my handiwork was obscured by mud from the dirt roads upon which my rental contract expressly forbade me from driving.
Next time I'm renting a Jeep.
I spent a week in LA trying to unload all my belongings before shlepping that with which I just could not part back to Chicago. I even made Luke sit outside with me all day Saturday having a yard sale. We got pretty burned but took in almost enough to pay for 8 days and unlimited miles in a minivan. I think his forehead peeled for a week.
Oh, the van, the van... I rented a seven-passenger Mazda MPV and, as you can see, packed it absolutely full. Luke bought some new flip flops in Colorado and had to squeeze them into the glove compartment. But it all fit...sort of. The seats didn't exactly recline.
We took a detour from I-10 north through Colorado to I-70, stopping in Jerome, AZ; Silverton, CO; and for two nights in Crested Butte, CO. This was my fifth trip to C.B., where I always stay at the Christiana Guesthaus. The innkeepers Martin and Rosie offer a hot tub, homemade granola for breakfast, and friendly hospitality. This visit to the wildflower-peeping and mountain biking mecca of the Rockies was all too short, but I will be back.
Here's a picture Luke took of a townie bike in Crested Butte, where everyone rides around on old Schwinns when they're not ripping through singletrack on $3000 cross-country racing rigs. C.B. is a funny mix of bourgeois tourists and 50-year-old hippies prolonging childhood indefinitely.
A fully-loaded minivan is not the vehicle of choice for rural Colorado. Despite my vehicular limitations, however, I was determined to drive up dirt Gothic Mountain road to 11,000' Schofield Pass, where one passes beautiful Emerald Lake and trails set off through fields of wildflowers into the Maroon Bells-Snowmass wilderness area.
The van made it up that hill, although I did blow out one tire on a pothole earlier in the trip. The spare wasn't exactly accessible, given that I had spent three hours packing stuff on top of it, but luckily the tire survived long enough to make it to Crested Butte's small mechanic shop. The friendly owner at first informed me we'd be waiting a few days to order a tire, since the nearest Dunlop dealer was 250 miles away in Denver. This would've been a problem. Luckily he located a single, dusty used tire of the appropriate dimensions from the back of the storage area, and we were on our way.
Upon returning the vehicle, Hertz reimbursed me for $40 I had spent on the tire and failed to comment on the fact that the side panel of the van was coming a little unstuck after Luke hit a piece of debris on the highway. I had tried to McGyver it back together with a little piece of wire, but one couldn't tell because my handiwork was obscured by mud from the dirt roads upon which my rental contract expressly forbade me from driving.
Next time I'm renting a Jeep.
posted by ellen at 2:35 PM
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