My Favorite Things in 2016 (An Otherwise Terrible Year)

I surfed, snorkeled, skydived, zip-lined, went spelunking and scuba dived.

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I climbed eight mountains over 14,000ft.

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I flew another 50,000 miles this year (that equals flying around Earth twice).

I checked two more countries off my list – Bahamas and Azores Islands (Portugal).

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I went to Hawaii to be in the wedding of one of my oldest friends from high school.

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I traveled all over the country for work and ate cake for dinner more times than I can count (and got lost on a lot of runs in new cities).

I went snowboarding in Aspen, Vail, Loveland, Keystone, A-basin.

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I competed in my first crossfit competition, went to the crossfit games in LA and overall became a better athlete.

I got a ridiculous speeding ticket because I was late to Murph on Memorial Day.

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Besides all of the cool stuff I got to do this past year, 2016 seriously sucked. Amiright?

And I’m not one of those “my life sucks because I make my life suck and I like being miserable” kind of people… I love my life. I have amazing friends, a good job, a supportive significant other. But there was just something about this year that just dragged on and felt like I kept getting kicked when I was down. But, it’s finally over and we can pretend like this year didn’t exist and we can move on, woo!

This year, I want to focus on becoming a better athlete – a better friend – and a better photographer. I want to keep giving back to the people who are always there for me when I need them. I want to continue to push myself athletically and achieve all of my fitness goals for 2017 (I made all but 1 this last year!).

2017 can only be better, right?

…Right?!

How to Get High in Colorado

Well, one way at least… Climb a mountain!

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I checked eight 14ers off my list in just two and a half months this last summer/fall.

Bierstadt, Gray’s, Torrey’s, Democrat, Cameron, Lincoln, Bross, Elbert.

What is a 14er, for you non-Coloradoans? It’s a mountain peak with an elevation of at least 14,oooft. That you climb. Slowly. And sometimes, painfully. There are 53 14ers in the state of Colorado alone.

For reference, when you reach cruising altitude in an airplane, you’re at 32,000ft. So when you reach the summit of a 14er, you’re almost halfway as high in the sky as you are in an airplane.

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(Can you tell I like this blue jacket?)

The air is thin and my lungs are burning like hell and I’m probably getting wind burned. But here I am, time and time again with my same group of also self-hating friends, climbing another mountain. No one really enjoys the process of actually climbing the mountain – but it’s the summit that makes it all worth while. And the snack break at the top.

On Labor Day, we summited four different mountains in one day. Equating to only 11.2 miles round trip, but we had to leave Denver at 3a. I was not a happy camper.

I realized on the third summit of that weekend that I was hiking higher in the air than I was when I went skydiving over the continental divide (approx. 13,000ft) – how awesome is that?

One of the most rewarding summits was Mt. Elbert – the tallest summit in the Rocky Mountains and second tallest summit in the contiguous United States.

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Time is so weird on a mountain. It’s kind of sped up, but it’s also kind of like it doesn’t exist.

I never feel like I’m hiking for hours and hours on end to summit. Which is great, because 14ers are all about mindset. If you set out thinking it’s gonna suck, it will.

My brain kind of shuts off and does this weird looping thing. I will sing literally two lines of the same song over and over again in my head, for hours on end, and never realize it.

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If there’s one thing crossfit has taught me, it’s that some pain is okay. Even good for you. That pushing a little further, a little harder, a little longer, won’t kill you. That it actually feels really good (afterwards) to push past what you think you think is your limit.

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Next year, I want to take at least 10 more 14ers off my list.

Cabana Naps and M&M’s: How to Sloth a Weekend in The Bahamas

I have the greatest friends in the world. Have I ever (not to subtly) bragged about that yet? Kinda sorry, mostly not sorry. I do though.

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Picture this: it’s mid-May. My dear, sweet boyfriend is sweating to death in the middle of god-awful Missouri yet again for training (and we all know how I feel about f*cking Missouri). My friends here in Colorado were probably climbing mountains and frolicking in the endless sunshine because Colorado is great. My friends in Minnesota were probably in a blizzard with 100% humidity because Minnesota is the most confused state ever.

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And I was in The Bahamas. With sugary, boozy slushies and warm sunshine and white sand beaches and a LOT of sunscreen. SPF: Hell, to be specific. This was my first real venture out into the summer sun this year, you know, so I was determined to NOT get burned.

So determined, in fact, that I came back with barely any tan and most people said “weren’t you like, in The Bahamas this weekend? Why are you still so white?”

Ugh, you can’t just ASK people why they’re white, Karen.

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I’ve since found a nice tan, in case you were worried.

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One of my very best friends, Jesse the Pilot, was in the Bahamas with some friends.  I met Jesse a few years ago in an airport. I hit on him and he totally shot me down – and we’ve been besties ever since. It was probably one of the most painfully awkward conversations of my entire life. We still laugh about it to this day. So embarrassing, not sure how I even have friends?

“Hey if you’re not busy this weekend we have an open room for you” was all I needed to hear before I was immediately and impulsively buying a ticket to the Bahamas.

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My greatest downfall/greatest quality is that I’m really, really impulsive.

Sometimes it gets me in big trouble, but usually it’s a good time.

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I picked the cheapest flight plan since I was in a hurry to book my flight… ouch. I left Denver at 1a and headed over to Charlotte for a 6-hour layover. I was so tired because I stayed up at home, knowing if I tried to nap I would never wake up in time. Then I jumped from Mountain Time to Eastern Time.

I’m like a baby, give me all the sleep.

In Charlotte, I found a nice family to sleep by. A nice family that was not my own. Creepy, no? Whoops.  I did what any normal, sleepy weirdo would do and plopped down on the floor with my backpack and scuzzy top pony, put in my headphones and died for a good 3 hours. This poor mother was probably thinking “f*ck I hope my kids aren’t like your greasy ass when they grow up”. My mother would have been so proud.

I lied, she will be angry to know I slept on an airport floor by myself because kidnappers and stuff.

In my defense, I was in the tropical destination wing of the Charlotte airport, I don’t care where I would have been taken to, it would have been warm and sunny. I would have still enjoyed the sunshine. As much sun as you can get through a car taillight in a trunk, I imagine.

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We went right over to the water park at The Cove, where I found a giant raft and floated along the lazy river for a good two hours while I “recovered” from my 13-hour travel time.

There was also a water slide that went through a shark tank. I had my eyes shut the whole time because it was fast as f*ck and I was screaming like a little girl, but I assume it was cool to look at.

In one weekend, I ate almost a pound of M&M’s, drank all the Goomba soda I could get my hands on for breakfast and spend my afternoons chugging vodka mixed with Gatorade powder out of a water bottle. BRB, cringing.

I remember that things like that are why I have a routine and I stick to it. I can’t  be trusted to adult on my own.

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St. Louis Shenanigans

Isn’t the point of a blog supposed to be that you update it regularly? I’m terrible about that. Oops!

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I’ve been grounded for two weeks and it feels like it’s been eons! #SpoiledTravelerProblems

I was in St. Louis a couple weekends ago, and I wasn’t sure what to expect going there. A co-worker made it seem like everywhere I went I would be violently murdered – “don’t go anywhere by  yourself EVER. Not even to get a coffee during the day. Don’t drive a car around there’s car jackings all the time.” etc. Whaaa?

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It wasn’t so bad. I’m not sure I would recommend it as somewhere to go, but we also didn’t do much and didn’t really have a desire to do much because it just didn’t feel like our scene. We stayed down by The Landing, after hearing that it was supposed to be a good (kind of fratty) bar scene – but it was dead down there all weekend! Bleh.

What I did enjoy: trying not to die at Six Flags and eating BBQ at Sugarfire Smokehouse. We were incredibly underwhelmed by the Arch, though. Sure the novelty of it all was what I expected, and riding up in the micro capsule was about the most exciting part because of the see-thru door and the mechanics outside.. but the top was way too crowded and the windows were barely big enough to see out of. We managed to giggle our way through the capitol building too.

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And it was SO freaking hot, oh my god. It was 101 degrees every day and 60% humidity. You know what I don’t miss about the midwest? HUMIDITY. You know what Colorado doesn’t have? Humidity! It’s GREAT.

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One of the highlights was dinner Saturday night, we went to a restaurant called Blood + Sand (menu). So, so, so good. Apparently it’s a private dining club? The decor/interior was awesome, the food was phenomenal and the vibe was perfectly us. We had rhubarb semifreddo and salted chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Truffeled tator tots and lots of cocktails were also involved. My favorite part about a good restaurant is when you can tell the servers are passionate about dining – please, PLEASE describe the menu to me in uber foodie details and recommend cocktails for me based off my meal choice and depth-of-flavor whiskey preference. Swoon.

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After the first night of disappointing night scene, we grabbed an Uber over to Bridges Tap House and Wine Bar for a nightcap (or two).  All in all, decent trip.

Will I go back? No, probably not.

Falling Down Mountains & Stuff

Ski season is coming to an end here in glorious Colorado.

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It’s my first year ever being on the mountain. The first few times I went out, I swore I would stick with it for one season but then I was never, ever strapping my dumbass into a snowboard again. I found bruises in shapes and colors I’ve never seen before in places of my body I didn’t even know could be bruised. I thought I broke my tailbone at least 7 times. The most frustrating thing ever is trying to learn how to snowboard from four different people who are double black skiers and you can barely make it off the lift.

Buuuuuuut today I just reserved my season pass for the 16/17 season. Somehow, I got my shit together and figured out how to ride and not fall on my face. Now, let’s not get carried away and say I’m great. My toesides still suck, but I can make it down the mountain at a decent speed and navigate an open set of trees. I’m calling it a victory.

I was super lucky to ride quite a bit outside of my Liberty Pass and not pay a ton (except Aspen, but that’s because it’s Aspen, duh).

Word of advice: make friends with people who work at the resorts. Make really good friends with them. Buy them beers, watch their pets, make them dinner, I don’t care. Do it.

We skied Winter Park for $25/per person/day because we have a friend from back home in Minnesota who lives in Tabernash, CO and works at Winter Park Resort in the winter.

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The very first time I strapped on a snowboard was at Loveland, and I rode there probably three more times this season. For free! Because one of my BFFs works at a dispensary and they have season passes to check out whenever. If you know someone who can get you a discount, it’s about $50/day I think.

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I usually ride Keystone. Hi, I’m lazy and love gondolas. Sorry, not sorry. Yes, a bit of the experience is lost being stuck inside on the way up. But 11 minutes inside warming up beats 11 minutes outside getting cold. On the days that it actually is cold, of course. I have the Liberty Pass so it was $299/per person for the whole season. There are some blackout dates, but they are over major holidays and since I’m from out of town, I was home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and didn’t use my pass anyways so I wasn’t too bummed about that. You can get a pass without restrictions, but it (obviously) costs a bit more. If you don’t mind missing a couple holiday weekends, which are a crap shoot of whether it is dead or a f*cking zoo, the Liberty Pass is your jam. Plus, it’s $175/day to ride Keystone so your pass is paid for in 2 visits. I think I made it out to Key six times this season.

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Then there was Aspen/Snowmass. I freaking loved it there and that’s where snowboarding finally started to click for me. We got a ski in/out resort which was awesome, plus the upgrade with the balcony and view of the mountains wasn’t bad either. We’re used to just making a day trip out of riding since we live in Denver and all major resorts (Breck, Vail, Keystone, Aspen) are no more than 3 hours away. However, it took us 5.5 hours to get to Aspen this trip… but that’s because an accident closed the canyon LITERALLY FIFTEEN MINUTES before we left the house. It was not a good drive.

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We were in Aspen the weekend before the XGames, so seeing all the hype and prep for the events and athletes was super cool. Plus, there were a lot of athletes and companies doing pre-interviews and prep that week, so we saw a lot of what I assume they were important people, because there were camera crews following them around and stuff. Idk, I don’t pay attention to anything except the beer and food in front of me usually.

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Things I learned?

  1. Too many beers means you suck more at snowboarding.
  2. Too few beer means falling hurts more.
  3. Always pack tree beers.
  4. Snowboarding is a drinking sport.
  5. I like drinking sports.

Terceira, Azores pt. 2!

Story of my life: I’m behind on posting something. But I’m just generally late doing anything and everything, really.

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I’ve been back from vacation for a week and three days. Eleven days ago, I was on an island in the mid-Atlantic caving in a lava tube and eating fresh octopus and drinking regional wine for 1,25euros a glass. Ten days ago, I was in the dead center of the state of Missouri. Today, I’m back at my desk. I’m still 97% unsure what time zone I’m in.

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The single dumbest, but greatest thing happened on the last night. We went to Quinta Dos Azores for dinner (their ice cream is the bomb, ps!) and during my directions acquisition, I came across a review by a girl (probably) my age, who was living there with her boyfriend temporarily while he played basketball, said they come there like three times a week. As we’re sitting there eating, this very girl whose life I had just stalked (way too hard) walked in and sat down right next to me! I felt like I was seeing a celebrity but not a celebrity and I couldn’t stop staring and feeling super creepy like I knew this girl but clearly I don’t know her.

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Is that weird? That’s super weird. I feel really weird over my level of excitement seeing this girl. It took every fiber of my being to not go up to her and be like “hi, I’m so creepy but I swear I’m friendly and harmless. I saw your review and it brought me here and now you’re here and I feel like that just makes us instant friends, ok have a great life, bye!” but my brother would have been mortified if I acted like my normal weirdly over friendly self.

F*cking creep.

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We also went caving in a lava tube in Praia da Vitoria, which was one of my favorite parts of the trip. We went with the same guys who took us rappelling, climbing and ziplining in the jungle. For the caving, we descended via rappel about 50ft underground and had nothing but little helmet lights to guide us around.

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We also rented a smart car to drive around the entire island on one of our last days. My favorite stop was in Biscoitos (translation: biscuits!) where the lava rock pools are. We wandered around the Calheta dos Biscoitos, which is the largest of the lava rock pools with clear blue waters that you can actually swim in. There’s also a wine museum in town, but we didn’t stop in. Kind of kicking myself for it – but I’m currently almost done drinking the bottle of red wine I brought back so it’s like I’m there. Kind of? We also drove up to the highest peak on the island, Serra de Santa Barbara (1,023m), but the clouds were really low that day and shielded the peak and the surrounding view. Bummer!

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Definite highlight was the “Tour de Azores” meal we had. It was a four course meal of regional cuisine made with local ingredients (cheese and beef from the nearby farms, fresh fish, etc.) and local wine pairings. I have dreams about the charred octopus and bread soup still. Sigh.

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Coming back, I scheduled myself yet another stressful marathon travel day. Another four airports later, it’s midnight when I land in Denver, I collect my wine stuffed suitcase and drive the 40 minutes home from the airport to shower, repack a backpack, love up on my cat and sleep for 3 hours before going BACK to the airport at 630a to head to Missouri.

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You know what state is the absolute f*cking worst? Missouri. Or Kansas. Honestly, I hate them both. Sorry not sorry, but driving in I-70 for 17 hours is not how I like to spend my life. It doesn’t usually take that long but a (semi-planned) pit stop it Wichita delayed the trip home.

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Note to self: never drive through Kansas or Missouri again.

Bom dia de Açores!

Four airports and nine hours later, I’m in Terceira, Azores Islands, Portugal. Yaaaass! The Azore Islands are a group of nine islands in the North Atlantic. Accessible via a 4.5 hour flight from Boston, 1 hour from Lisbon. Terceira is the third largest of the islands (terceira means the third in Portuguese), also known as the party island during high season.

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The island is 24 miles by 28 miles and it takes no longer than 30 minutes to drive around the entire island. Or like 16 minutes if you drive like the locals. About 56,000 people inhabit the island. Which is a f-ing miracle considering everyone here drives at least 200kph EVERY DAMN WHERE. The sidewalks are barely wide enough for one person to walk on without fear that they will be taken out by a side mirror from a passing car. The roads aren’t straight or anything, they’re sharp and curvy, so it’s a miracle there isn’t an accident around every corner. And that driving complaint is coming from a lead-footed American.

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Portuguese is the language buuuut you can get by with Spanish in a pinch. Plus, you don’t stick out so badly if you use that instead of English. Many people also speak English because they’re used to the British vacationers and now, the Americans since they are doubling incoming flight loads from Boston (from two flights a week to four).

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I love the brightly painted houses and shops that line the streets. One of the locals told me that they are re-painted every year when festival time is coming. They told me about when the bulls run the streets during these festivals. Four are tied to one rope to run the streets and a fifth one is the “surprise bull” that you really have to watch out for… the one that is called “too much alcohol”. Advice of the day: don’t get too trapped by the fifth bull.

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Apparently Americans are usually the ones run down by bulls most often because they are clueless, which is sadly not surprising. Americans: stop being dumb, please. Thanks! It’s also commonplace to get drunk and jump a rock “fence” into a bullpen and antagonize the bull and hope you aren’t the most drunk of your friends and catch the horns. There’s an American military base on Terceira and there is a specific rule banning the soldiers from partaking in the above shenanigans. Talk about fun-sucking.

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Monte Brasil, an inactive volcano, is not only an active military area… there’s also a small zoo at the top. What? Why? Who knows. But there’s deer and a parrot and peacocks – all of your typical zoo (least) favorites. Once you get to the top, there’s stunning views of Angra do Heroismo and the Atlantic.

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After a day of rappelling, we stopped with our four guides and two amigos from Spain to have a beer. Super Bock is the beer of choice, made in neighboring Portugal. It’s like Bud Light so it’s awful, but when in Azores, drink shitty local beer! They also ordered some “shrimp of Azores” …green and black olives… and I detest, despise and loathe olives. They’re like salty little assholes. But I felt bad saying “nah, I fucking hate those disgusting things”… so I ate two.

Four hours, three beers and a cheeseburger later (how very American of me) – I can still taste salty little olive assholes in my mouth and it makes me want to die.

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To pack it or not to pack it?

I am a serial overpacker.

Who doesn’t need four swim suits and thirteen tank tops to choose from on a one week trip?! Oh… right, no one. I’m (ridiculously) that person who thinks “what if I don’t like the clothes I brought when I get there?” ha, well… then maybe you shouldn’t own those clothes in the first place and should donate them. Who keeps clothes they don’t like? Friggin’ idiots.

I’m trying to get better about it. But seriously… it’s just a compulsive overthinking problem I have (throughout my entire life, really). I’m also always frantic about not packing enough socks. SOCKS! If I don’t have enough socks, my life is in shambles.

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Luckily this trip I’m packing for does not need to be glamorous or fashionable. I’m heading to an island in the North Atlantic for a week of hiking and exploring with my brother (more on that later!). I’ve convinced myself to bring JUST enough clothes and clothes I CAN re-wear and take from land to sea. Translation: 3 pair workout tights, 1 pair hiking pants, 1 pair hiking shorts, 1 lightweight rain jacket, 3 sweaters, 1 long sleeve layer, 3 dri-fit t-shirts, 5 tank tops, 2 swim suits, 7 metric tons of socks, 3 pairs of shoes. Yes, everything I own is always covered in a nice layer of cat hair.

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I’m wearing a super comfortable pair of Nike running tights right now. They were RB’s. Now they’re mine. What kind of girl can fit in the same running tights as their 6’3”, Army S.O.? Eat a sandwich boo, lawwwwd. I might feel bad about myself if I didn’t have a great gigantic butt. Thanks CrossFit, u da real MVP. #Flawless.

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I know what you’re thinking – “CBrown, you’re talking about not taking a lot of shit and you’re bringing three pairs of shoes, you fucking clown”. Accurate assessment, young Padawan. However I need a pair to run in, because running on the beach is the only time I enjoy running and I’m decently fast when I’m at sea level and not suffocating at my normal Mile High elevation. One pair of hiking boots for the volcanos/rougher terrain, one pair of quick dry hiking shoes for when we rappel and go into the caves. See? Logical. Kind of. Whatever.

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Best thing I ever learned about packing? ROLL ALL THE THINGS. Seriously. Trust me. This is magical.

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My backpack is stuffed with all of my digitals and goodies. Mac, GoPro, Nikon w/ tripod, iPhone and books. Seriously, I guard this thing with my life when traveling because if I lose this thing… my entire social connection is gone. Plus, $$$$. Should I tell the internet where I carry all my valuables? Probably not. I trust you guys though. Also, snacks. Because I’m always hungry and I’m not nice when I’m hungry. Why do kid’s Clif bars come in the good flavors like chocolate brownie and iced oatmeal cookie? Do adults not like these things? I always buy the kid’s ones, mostly because I’m an overgrown kid.

Only thing that didn’t make it in my suitcase? This creature.

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Home Sweet Mountains

Colorado is seriously a terrible place to live.

How do people do it?

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I mean, it’s hideous. There’s mountains and sunsets over mountains and sunrises over mountains. I guess it’s alright if you’re into that kind of thing.

Here I am, on the side of a mountain in a blizzard, 8,802ft up in the air. I’m cold as f*ck in my one too few bottom layers, the wind is whipping 45mph across the bluffs and I can’t find the god damn lake I’m looking for because it’s a white out and I’m also a terrible navigator. I’m standing on a ledge, on the side of a mountain, 8,802ft up.

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And it is WONDERFUL.

I haven’t gotten out to hike and explore as much as I wanted to last summer when I first moved here, so I figured on a 55 degree day in Denver, what better to do than head up to Estes Park for a little day trip? The weather must be nice.

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WRONG. What I forget about Colorado a lot is how different the weather can be one mile to the next. And the weather is not the same in the mountains as it is in the city. 55 degrees and clear blue skies in Denver… 29 degrees, frigid wind, blizzard in Rocky Mountain National Park. Even though we didn’t expect this kind of snow, we trudged on and got two good hikes in. Thankfully, we both had enough gear to stay pretty warm and we stayed on trails that were mostly sheltered by trees. Mostly.

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While the conditions didn’t leave much for scenic viewing, it did give us some nice windburned cheeks and froze our hair right to our foreheads. Only once did we think one of us would go tumbling down the side of the mountain, I think that qualifies as a win. I can’t even tell you how happy my butt was to find a heated seat in the car afterwards. While we defrosted, we cheers’d to our Galentine’s Day adventure with skittles and sour gummy worms and wished we had brought some beers for liquid warmth.

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As we made our final descent down the mountain, our sunglasses we hindering our sight in low light so we packed them away (after almost losing them in a snowbank). As we had on the way up, we gave a friendly greeting every person we saw along the way – blame the midwest nice in us, I guess. Most people looked at us kind of weird this time and we weren’t sure why… until we got to the car and noticed the mascara literally raccooning our eyes. Whoops. Sorry for the nightmares, strangers.

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Across the whole day, we covered probably 5 miles in the snow across two trails. We trekked to Dream Lake and got about 3/4 of the way up Bierstadt Trail before turning around due to weather conditions. Next time, we plan on taking Dream Lake further to Emerald Lake and tackling more of the trails in the park. We also decided we will check the weather a little more closely before heading up.

 

Sleepy in Seattle

Seattle is one of my favorite U.S. cities ever.

My favorite sushi restaurant is there, you can go from sea level to 14,000ft up a mountain in the same day and best part: one of my best friends in the whole universe lives there!

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Enter: Blake Perseus R-Dizzle! He’s about to become a big fancy pilot. He’s lived like everywhere in the world and jumps off cliffs for fun and is into some really weird shit. We have the best kind of friendship. Mostly because of our mutual love for weird shit.

Exactly nine days before I packed my truck and drove 918 miles to Colorado, Blake moved to Seattle to finish up his flight instructor hours so he can officially become a pilot. Even though I still kind of hate him for leaving, I have a reason to go out to Seattle and a place to stay.

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Not surprisingly, some of the weirdest moments of my life happen with Blake. One of the first times I ever hung out with him, we went to some, uh, specialty shops in Denver to look for some items for his very specific interests. I know that’s annoyingly vague, but he will know what I’m talking about and my mom reads this and she doesn’t need details.

There’s the one time we got super drunk at a bowling alley in the middle of a Colorado blizzard, jumped a fence at a neighboring apartment complex and hopped in the hot tub to warm up (#DrunkLogic). Then I couldn’t get my jeans back on because jeans + wet skin = so much nope, so I ran down the middle of the street with no pants on, in a couple feet of snow, in a blizzard (speaking of things my mother doesn’t need to know, ha!).

There’s the time I went to a wedding with his family in his homeland of Long Island, NY and we drank endless amounts of Jameson chased with Bud Light (I just vomited in my mouth), chugged a bottle of champagne before the wedding/church and I almost was eaten by a wolf spider next to the pool, nursing a hangover from the above bad decisions. While eating a bacon, egg, cheese, salt, pepper, ketchup sandwich. What?

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One day while sitting at my desk, I decided I wanted my favorite Seattle sushi, I missed the shit outta Blake and I had some Delta miles sitting around. So, I pitched the greatest idea ever: Seattle. Food. Tour. I got my big hungry ass on a plane and spent the next 38.5-hours eating, laughing, being touristy and eating. And eating.

We went to Pike Place, naturally, and spent the day wandering around downtown. We ate donuts, ovaltine lattes, sushi, tacos, fish and chips, burgers, and molten lava cakes with boozy milkshakes. Oh god, the lava cake. The peanut butter, caramel & whiskey milkshake. Be still my sugar packed heart.
 HotCakes

We also went to the Space Needle and rode the gigantic tourist trap Seattle Great Wheel (hi, I was terrified) and took a nap. The nap might have been the best part of the whole weekend – both of us don’t take (and can’t take) much down time in our day-to-day lives, so when we’re together we spend all of our time just forgetting the universe exists and giggling about nothing. And eating. And watching Sriracha documentaries. And napping for at least 3-4 hours at a time.

SeattleTourists

See you soon, B. Perseus!

Where we ate:

Top Pot Doughnuts

Los Agaves Tacos

Jack’s Fish Spot

Hot Cakes Molten Chocolate Cakery

Umi Sake House

The Gourmet Burger Shop