How nice are the accommodations provided high above the Moots factory?

Yesterday I introduced you to the kitchen.
This, what you will see in a moment, is the shower.

Through that particular shower window, the world.

While beautiful and the likes.
This shower est tres dangereux.

I was almost very nearly permanently scalded as a result of the serious complexity of this contraption.
Suffice it to say poor people aren’t adequately prepared through worldly experiences (such as private schools and butt butlers) to make intelligent use of such amenities.

Amenities as unherently complex as dual head showers.

Firing it up was just like any other, however, once the HOT water cycled through and the temperature increased I was left pinned to the wall.
Frightened and stranded as genuine liquid steam blistered from the fore-head.

Sadly, no amount of tinkering with the dial would reign the heat in.

Just as I was about to dive through the boiling rain to escape my tiled crypt, I gave the lower handle a jiggle or two out of desperation.

Victory.

Conclusion.
One handle for each head.

Adjusting AFT in place of FORE (predictably) had no effect.
It all makes sense now.

Yesterday’s ride started off with a slight mist rolling in.
By the time we made it the mile or few to the trail head, a seriously cold rain had settled in.

Fail.

At least Dicky and I were able to gingerly assertain the level of our acclimatization…without a thorough effort that is.

While I can’t speak for him (being the consummate professional he would certainly not never ever acknowledge weakness) I do not suffer from that sort of pundit secrecy. 

Conclusion.
I was seriously winded by the flat land sprint from the stable back to Casa Moots.

Further acclimation was necessary.

We would head out in the morning for another test.

Shortly following this decision tragedy struck camp Dicky.

He was self diagnosed with H.A.F.E.
Disturbing.

Like a child with Turrets, you were angered by the constant assaults yet somewhat tolerant, afterall, it IS a disease.

Shielded by a grey gaseous cloud he gained control of the remote console.

Clearly he thought ‘DOCUMENTARY’ was Coloradonian for something else.

Bed was early (again) but 0700 still came quickly.

There were five staggered trips to the lavatory last night.

Conclusion.
Hydration adequate.

Despite overnight rains, we headed out to Howelsen Hill Trails.

Dicky parked the Subaru.

“Hey Mike, Dick here, wondering if we could pick up another enroute to Breck?”

Left to Right; Rob (Moots), Dicky (Dicky Inc), Matty (Moots).

Conditioning?
Altitude?

Conclusion.
Soft.

Just like my front Louise.

Within 2 miles the front lever burped and made a hasty retreat to the bar.
Not the Double Zed bar (see below) the FU bar.

The long drawn climbs necessary to reach the main trails resulted in vexatious throbbing in the legs and periods of extreme breathlessness.
For real.

The descents also resulted in brief stages of breathlessness.

A couple hours later the ride culminated at the base of Howelsen.
Excitement.

Despite the offer of discounted lift tickets  and the taunts of locals (nah nah Dicky) no one in our group opted at the opportunity.

Having tackled fitness at altitude it was time to tackle hops.

Conveniently located within 50′ of Orange Peel Bicycle.

Whilst we hydrated the kind souls at Orange dropped all other tasks to bleed the front.

45 minutes, rather…

…one pitcher later, they were done.

There is a very strong Arts culture in Steamboat.

Victory.

Rumour on the street calls for an afternoon ride followed by dinner.

Life is good.

This entry was posted on Friday, July 3rd, 2009 at 15:35 and is filed under Breck '09, General Stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.