Rocky Mountain National Park

On Monday we got up early and drove from Silverthorne to Winter Park. We arrived at our first client who, unbeknown to us, had cancelled the shoot. Making the best of situation, my director suggested we shoot on up to Rocky Mountain National Park, only a half an hour away. We visited Kawunechee Visitor Center, then took Hwy. 34 into the park. The road only allowed us some ten miles in, as the mountain snow had closed the route for the winter. The skies were overcast, there was a light snow falling and the wind began to pick up as we slowly made our way up the road, gazing out for some sign of wildlife.

At the end of the road we found a parking lot, grabbed our cameras and warm gear and found a path. Fortunately for us, the path had been compacted by previous visitors. Step off the path and you were up to your crotch in snow. The pine forest, nodding back and forth from the wind, kept us in some comfort. As we marched in, I was giddy at the fun of it, and had a tough time controlling a doggish grin which spread across my face. Occasionally there was an opening in the wood where you could catch a glimpse of the alpine mountain face to your right, or the open expanse of a river glade to your left.

We did not go all that far before we turned around and headed back. Across the expansive glade the wind was blowing the wind with some ferocity. Wind was traveling a good mile, sweeping horizontally. We drove back, ever-searching for wildlife, but only seeing the tell-tale oval shape of the occasional coyote track, which were frequent throughout our walk. Dog tracks are very similar to coyotes. But, if you know dogs, you are also familiar with the fact that they tend to wander everywhere. Coyotes are much more purposeful, linear and often follow established animal trails.

Our drive back took us through such towns as Grand Lake, Grandby and Rendezvous. Some are tucked next to lakes, some are part of the open expanse. Across these open areas the wind would sweep up huge vortexes and mini storm-tornadoes. In one of these lakes, called Granby, an underwater tunnel pumps some 16 or so miles east beneath the mountains of Rocky Mountain National Park. This is another good representation of the man-made feats which are accomplished just to bring water to such an arid region.

We putzed, filmed and ate at a sandwich and BBQ joint. That ended that day.

On Tuesday we filmed a resort, ate some Cajun then filmed a property management. In one of these small condos there was a pair of skis that supposedly once belonged to Johnny Cash.

Concerning the Cajun, I had gumbo. It was more a Creole than Cajun gumbo since it had tomatoes which an authentic Cajun Gumbo shouldn’t. Usually, a nice, dark roux is possible without tomatoes if the flour and fat are cooked right. I’m not sure if it had file(made with sassafras) or okra as I have difficulty distinguishing. But I usually look for crawfish gumbo as crawfish give things what I call a “swampy” flavor. This did not so must be more farm-raised than harvested. Makes me miss the South! My director mentioned that plague wiped out European crawfish and so Sweden is one of the biggest importers. Over there they cook them in dill. Oh that reminds me, in New Zealand they call their spiny lobster, crayfish. OK, enough about crawdads for now.

Last eve it was sushi in Winter Park. They had many unconventional concoctions but it was filling.