Early morning, Keystone, Colorado, high in the Rocky Mountains: Friend dashes upstairs yelling to his wife and I, "Get your cameras!" We grabbed and dashed. "There's a moose right. . . it was right there!" A spot about 100-150 feet from their front door. Smack in the middle of a glitzy 100-plus unit condo development.
So we took off after Mr. Moose, aiming to shoot him (with cameras, of course). Preferably with telephoto lens. You never want to get too close to Mr. Moose. Mrs. Moose, either.
We chased that stupid, obstinately disappearing moose for the better part of an hour. Through the condo complex, over a few meadows, through a couple of parking lots. No moosie-moosie.
Instead, we found the local Sheriff. She'd been chasing Mr. Moose in her Sheriff's car for over an hour - since just about dawn. She parked at one point, opened her trunk, and pulled out some strange orange thing with vivid bold capitals, "LESS LETHAL." Don't want to know what that was, or what "less" lethal means, even in moosie-moosie terms.
She warned us to beware the moose, and call her if we spotted him. We were only interested in telephoto-range sightings, we assured Mademoiselle le Sheriff.
Never found Mr. Moose. Not a glimpse. Not finding Mr. Moose was very disappointing. Chasing Mr. Moose? Priceless.
Also breathless - high-altitude chase, you know. There's no way a human can outrun a moose, especially at 11,000 feet. He's used to it, and very well altitude-adjusted indeed. Humans end up oxygen-starved and panting. But it was fun anyway.
May your road rise to meet you - and may you catch up with your Mr. Moose!
Ann
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Planes, Trains, Automobiles
Planes, trains, automobiles - and boats. Each mode of transport has its merits, and its own unique character. After driving just shy of 6,000 miles, the Great American Road Trip - or its counterparts, the Great Canadian Road Trip and Great European Road Trip - is something every Road Warrioress really needs to experience at least once in her life.
I have a friend who hates to drive. Oh, yes, she's perfectly capable, licensed, clean driving record, and all that. She just hates doing it! Won't even drive to the supermarket, but has hubby take her instead. Long-distance road trips - at least one US and one European annually - she meticulously plans, maps, organizes. And hubby does all the driving. Obviously, she's not a Road Warrioress, despite being a very avid traveler. Guess it's a good thing opposites attract since hubby is decidedly a Road Warrior who loves to drive, even winding little one-laners along Italy's plunging coastlines.
My friend's perspective is totally lost on me. Just don't get it. More akin to her husband (except for driving on the "wrong" side of the road, which he handles with aplomb), I love to get in the car and go.
Doesn't much matter where. I've been known to take a left turn on the freeway - abrupt decision, no accident - and end up hundreds of miles from the originally intended destination. Or decide "I just want to get out of here" at the Laundromat Saturday morning, then pack laundry and kitties and take off, arriving home just in time to get back to work Monday morning. I simply love to drive. Love going places. Even when I don't know where I'm going, but just "follow my nose" to see what there is to see.
Love to fly. Love boats, even for a speedy trip on a lake or Long Island Sound. Love trains - one of my greatest adventures was riding the rails through China for a few months.
But driving a car is a completely different experience. Answering to no one, adjusting my route on a whim, stopping whenever I'm hungry or just to shoot a few photographs because something caught my eye. There's nothing like driving across Nebraska at 80 miles an hour, glad you can race past cow-stench, or sorry you had no idea there was such a spectacular bridge to photograph and could find no place to pull over fast enough to capture it.
Definitely, Road Warrioresses, take that road trip!
May your road rise to meet you - wherever you go!
Ann
I have a friend who hates to drive. Oh, yes, she's perfectly capable, licensed, clean driving record, and all that. She just hates doing it! Won't even drive to the supermarket, but has hubby take her instead. Long-distance road trips - at least one US and one European annually - she meticulously plans, maps, organizes. And hubby does all the driving. Obviously, she's not a Road Warrioress, despite being a very avid traveler. Guess it's a good thing opposites attract since hubby is decidedly a Road Warrior who loves to drive, even winding little one-laners along Italy's plunging coastlines.
My friend's perspective is totally lost on me. Just don't get it. More akin to her husband (except for driving on the "wrong" side of the road, which he handles with aplomb), I love to get in the car and go.
Doesn't much matter where. I've been known to take a left turn on the freeway - abrupt decision, no accident - and end up hundreds of miles from the originally intended destination. Or decide "I just want to get out of here" at the Laundromat Saturday morning, then pack laundry and kitties and take off, arriving home just in time to get back to work Monday morning. I simply love to drive. Love going places. Even when I don't know where I'm going, but just "follow my nose" to see what there is to see.
Love to fly. Love boats, even for a speedy trip on a lake or Long Island Sound. Love trains - one of my greatest adventures was riding the rails through China for a few months.
But driving a car is a completely different experience. Answering to no one, adjusting my route on a whim, stopping whenever I'm hungry or just to shoot a few photographs because something caught my eye. There's nothing like driving across Nebraska at 80 miles an hour, glad you can race past cow-stench, or sorry you had no idea there was such a spectacular bridge to photograph and could find no place to pull over fast enough to capture it.
Definitely, Road Warrioresses, take that road trip!
May your road rise to meet you - wherever you go!
Ann
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