Lord bless 'em, they can't cook

                  I walked into an antique store downtown in Cheyenne looking for some furniture: coffee table, end table, some kind of chair. As I walked past the register I greeted the lady who was running the store. She returned my greeting, paused for a few seconds, then got up and said, "Well, you're new here and from the South. How long have you been here?" Taken aback by her knowledge of my life I told her I had, more or less, just arrived (I never asked her how she knew I was new and from the South and it still puzzles me) and introduced myself to her. Linda (that's her name) is from New Orleans and moved here almost 30 years ago. I asked her why she moved up here. "Well the Lord just brought me here - probably brought me here to meet you! Now, let me tell you, the people up here are fantastic, wonderful, nice people but, Lord bless 'em, they can't cook! If you wan't anything worth eating you'll have to drive down to Fort Collins or cook it yourself."
                And here I am, Cheyenne: a sweet tea lovin, Auburn football havin, still wishin I was in Arkansas livin closer to that girl, Southern boy. The reality of being way up here (over 6000' above sea level) still has not sunk in. I've been too busy in-processing to my new job at the 30th Airlift Squadron, getting settled into the house I'm renting and spending weekends away in Denver or the mountains. When I talk to people back home I'm still referring to the South as "here," even though Dixie is so far, far away.
                I can already tell I'm going to enjoy working with the guys at the 30th. Everyone seems at ease and even though the deployments are busy there is still a relaxed feeling around the squadron. All the single officers I've gotten to know well are deploying tomorrow morning. Kind of a bummer. But there are plenty of cool married folk to go around. It's hard to say much more about work than that because I haven't gotten settled there yet. I know I will be working with the Stan/Eval guys (and I only say that for people who know what that abbreviation is (if you don't know then explaining would only leave you more confused)). It's one of the better shops to work in (so I hear) and the other guys in it are all very experienced pilots that will hopefully grace me with some knowledge.
                Like I said, weekends have been busy, but not in Cheyenne. The first weekend I was here I spent in Leadville, CO, crewing for a friend who was running the Leadville 100 Trail Race. It was brutal. Starting at 4am, going all day, all night and finishing at 6:30am the following morning. Sleep called out at every corner, begging you for just a little nap. The terrain was rugged at best, often jaw rattling. Exhaustion teamed with the altitude to make any physical activity arduous.It was also hard for the runners. But, seriously, the course was a lot more difficult and demanding than we thought but the landscape was gorgeous.

Runners ran down this hill to the final checkpoint before heading over a 12,000 foot peak. Once on the other side they turned around and did it again.

This was the last aid station we had access to as crew members. About 2:30am Sunday, and about a half-marathon left.

               The next weekend I asked my cousin, Aaron, who lives in Denver, what he and his wife, Minette, were up to. He said, "we're gonna hike a 14er. Interested?" Having absolutely no idea what that involved I said yes (and learned, about 24 hours after I committed, that a little research might have saved me regret). We camped out at the base of the mountain Friday night, got up early the next morning and started the "hike" around 7pm. The base was around 9500 ft. I took maybe 15 steps and realized I was already exhausted. The next 4000 ft of my life was, put bluntly, hellish. It could be seen as a scientific endeavor, realizing the effects oxygen (and the lack of it) has on ones' body. Basically, I didn't have as much oxygen as I was accustomed too and my body tried to stage a revolution over my mind in order to turn me around and just make it stop. Unfortunately, you can always take one more step, or shuffle, as it may be. The first 2000 ft were difficult but manageable. And this made it worth it:

 However, the last 2000 ft was just a shuffle, knowing that if I stopped, I would more than likely stop for good and turn around. I think I blacked out  because I don't remember much except switching back a lot and legs burning and quads cramping and wondering what I would do if I ever made it back down. Somehow, though, the shuffle got me to the top:

Not a great perspective, I know, but I was sitting down (possibly in a very reclined position

The rest of our group was on the top about 45 minutes before I got there so they were ready to head back down. Someone asked if I wanted my picture taken. I said no for a few reasons: I didn't want to stand up, it was really cold and windy, I just wanted to eat my sandwich, I was incredibly tired and, mostly, I didn't want to memorialize or remember that moment in any way. To our (my cousins' and my) surprise the group decided to take the alternate route back down rather then head back the way we came. We quickly learned that "alternate" route means much, much more unbearable and unpleasant and devilish route.

                The first 1500 ft down was loose gravel and rocks just big enough to twist your ankle, all at a slope so steep that tilting your head forward slightly would cause you to get down the mountain very, very fast and probably for the last time ever. We were following a ridge line (note to self: never do that) down that was formed by Satan the Deceiver. We would get to a flatish dirt spot and think, "whew, finally done with these awful rocks and steep descents," only to walk to the ledge and see you were horribly, horribly mistaken. On the way up all I could think about was that, maybe, one day, I'd get to go down hill. Once headed downhill, though, I started praying to go uphill again. But then we would go uphill for a bit and I would immediately regret that prayer. This was after we actually got done with the rocky descent, looking back:

Don't mistake the joyous expression on my face. I was not happy about what we had just accomplished

Finally below the treeline.

So fast forward a few more hours and we finally made it back to the car. And I was out of oil. I don't want to talk about it. Overall I have a greater appreciation for Sam and Frodo and what they accomplished on their way to Mordor.

All in all I've been having fun up here but still missing home, people and sweet tea (also Sweet Tea). I'm flying down to Arkansas this weekend on my way to Pensacola, FL for water survival next week. Looking forward to being around my Little Rock people again and to be within hugging distance of this one:

And I'll leave you with a picture of this truck we saw on the drive up to Wyoming: