MOUNT.BOB report #72A, Intro (7/31)

Wherein I disgorge portions of my notes relating the pilgrimmage of the Woods family to the now-sacred shrine of MOUNT.BOB.

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Once at the hotel, I spent a bit of time leafing through the Yellow Pages looking for grocery stores and Internet cafes (Woodland Park is a bit thin on both accounts). I passed an ad for Thunderbird Ranch, which Babs read over my shoulder as "Thunder Brothers Drainage". For some reason, this seemed insanely funny; most likely oxygen deprivation, considering the altitude difference from where we live (8465 feet to around 350). I also declared that a must-see attraction was: El Rey Stucco Company.

I observed in the hotel room that a framed photo of what appeared to be a scene from a musical about ancient Egypt was actually being used as a cover for the circuit breaker panel. I'm quite certain that's not up to code per the NEC; as I recall, an action-adventure film is specified by the code.

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: MOUNT.BOB report #72B, People Overload
Date: 7 Aug 1997 22:53:59 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 55

MOUNT.BOB report #72B, People Overload (8/1)

I had offered, the day before, to drive down to Fort Collins to bring up a load of camping essentials once we got settled at the hotel, but since j.j was not at home when we called for instructions (and did not return in time for the 4 hour round trip to be practical given our state of zombification), we instead made arrangements to pick up the first planeload of celebrants, allowing Dersk to do cargo duty the next day instead.

Thus it was that I went to the airport and picked up omar, katie, and smarry, even though I had absolutely no clue what they looked like, nor they I. (And amazingly enough, it was unnecessary to resort to the official mating call of "Greenland!" answered by "Polo!".) Fortunately, omar was wearing a HOTT.BOB shirt, so I spotted him and katie instantly, and later smarry spotted said shirt and found us that the baggage claim area. Upon collecting several tons of camping supplies, we headed for the car and off we went, pausing only for a quick lunch at Popeyes (smarry: "Do you accept Canadian currency?" person behind counter: "Canadians have currency?"), and getting lost only once (nay, I shall not join the thankless multitudes and heap further unnecessary abuse on "Whipping" Boy Mozart for his directions, for they were erronious only in one place (where two out of three clues provided enabled instant discovery of his right-left colorblindness), and ambiguous only in two places (the second of which was responsible for getting about 10 miles lost)), though I also sailed past the actual campground entrance due to the fact that the MOUNT.BOB sign was a very small piece of paper on a very large NATIONAL CAMPGROUND THINGUMMY sign with the actual identification ("Red Rock") in very small print). Once they were safely delivered to the campsite, I picked up Babs and Sara at the hotel and we scarfed up a quick lunch on our own.

The first day was mostly setting up, greetings, that sort of thing. Nametags were provided somewhat late, well after my brain saturated from PEOPLE OVERLOAD. Much photography was indulged in, and assuming my el-cheapo camera didn't screw up all the photos, I'll be able to see all the people whose names I am clueless about anytime I want to shame myself for my poor memory.

I helped put up a couple of dining canopies over the two picnic tables, and a tarp between the two to keep out the regularly scheduled afternoon downpour which began right on schedule halfway through construction of same. Only when the rain ended were we allowed to have our official bottles of water, symbolic of our triumph over the rain spirits. Later the canopies were destroyed to make way for the TARP OF THE GODS. I thought it unfair that the second tarp crew did so much better, just because they had the right equipment and actually knew what they were doing.

Other than that, I recall little of Friday other than simply hanging out and talking to people whom I'd never met in person. But what else need be recalled?

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: MOUNT.BOB report #72C, the Trifecta
Date: 7 Aug 1997 23:39:59 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 131

MOUNT.BOB report #72C, the Trifecta (8/2, or in metric units, 2/8)

Saturday and Sunday were the Activity Days. A large writing surface was provided with suggested activities, which people then signed up for. Especially interested parties were then deputized to lead each event, regardless of whether they'd signed up for anything, and they gathered together like-minded spirits who may or may not have written anything.

My family wanted especially to see Pikes Peak, the Manitou Cliff Dwellings, and the Cave of the Winds, and Jeremy observed (being mildly familiar with the area) that they could all be done in a single day. He was punished for his wisdom by being forced to organize these three visits into a single trip, which became known as the Trifecta, but turned into the Bataan Death March Of Fun.

Jeremy and company led the drive up Pikes Peak in the Lincoln Townsizedcar; he had been up before, hence was a bit reluctant to stop at ALL the turnouts, but wondrous scenery was still in abundance. It's a 13 mile drive to the top, all in low gear, most on dirt roads (native pulverized red granite). Heck, it's a rental car... I was driving Babs, Sara, myself, Johnny Mayall, and Derrick Williams (at one point we swapped among the cars, trading Derrick for Barrett Justice and a t.b poster to be named later...). The Garcias (and a couple of passengers) were the third car on the Trifecta, not inappropriately.

It was really disturbing to see the amount of trash people left by the road (some pigs are such people). I picked up a little bit of trash at one of the stops so I could pretend that I made a net improvement in the place, if one ignores the wear and tear and air pollution caused by the car itself (and, of course, it was only an "improvement" toward the original state, minimizing a net loss...).

There is a little outpost halfway up (psychologically halfway, I think it's more than halfway up the road) where you can do the tourist shopping thing and get lunch, which we all did. (There was a sign reading "No Rock Scrambling", which is not culinary advice for mineraletarians but rather, as I recall, means "stay off the goddamned hillside if you don't have real rock-climbing equipment".) The tourist shop there was fairly small and low-key (I didn't check out the shop at the top of the mountain). This outpost also is a brake-check on the way down: they stop you and quickly feel the wheels of your car; if your brakes are glowing cherry red, they make you stop and cool them off.

Pikes Peak is 14,110 feet high. The top is desolate, an area of rocks that looks like a Marscape only less hospitable. The air is fucking thin; I made the mistake of *running* across the peak (a flat area under 100 yards across) from where we parked to the tourist trap, er, information station to look for Babs when we wanted to leave. Now, add all this up: running 100 yard; not being in the best of physical shape; NO AIR; and a hailstorm (oh, did I mention the hailstorm at the top? You know, it really is impressive to be standing on solid ground and see weather coming at you, miles away, from *below*. And the lightning we saw... just indescribably beautiful). No, I was not a happy camper after that...

We descended from the peak before the hailstorm got too bad (it turned to rain not far below, since the temperature at the peak was around 40 degrees). HOT BRAKES FAIL, sayeth the signs, which I was very careful to remember. Babs also noted that wet brakes fail, and either Johnny or Barrett observed that "Hot Wet Brakes Fail" was probably too risque for the National Forest Service to put on a sign. We didn't stop for scenery on the way down, but did stop a couple of times to rendezvous and plan (since we all left the peak at different times). Once we were at the bottom, we abandoned plans to dash back to camp between the Cliff Dwellings and the Cave of the Winds, because Pikes Peak had taken well over the 4 hours the literature recommended alloting to it.

The Manitou Cliff Dwellings are a group of 6 brick and mortar building set into shallow caves in a cliff by a group of Native Americans between 1100 and 1300 AD. Eventually they were driven out by a twenty-four year drought, and went off to join what became the Pueblo Indians. Anyway, the dwellings were discovered in 1898 by someone who set up a gift shop and museum and gave tours.

The dwellings (when we got there) had railings and foot paths added so people can explore them, and some informative plaques describing the construction and what could be deduced of their lives from the few clues left over from 700 years of vandalism and pillaging by Native Americans before the first whites found and pillaged them.

After we scoped out the dwellings, we went through the "museum". No, those quotes are not misguided decorations. The museum was in a faux Pueblo building ("just like the buildings of the Pueblo in Taos, New Mexico" according to the sign, thus inextricably linking MOUNT.BOB to HOTT.BOB), and consisted of a small foyer with photos of the dwellings from 1903 when the tourist trap was set up, plus photos of the various Native American dancers who have entertained tourists there ever since then (one photo was entitled "Native American dancers and tourists ham it up for the camera, 1930"; Jeremy pronounce it the scariest photo he had ever seen). One then proceeds through a twisting maze of trinkets, baubles, and gewgaws, three or four floors of it (and ALL of it horrid), until one reaches the "museum" proper: a 12 foot by 12 foot room with four display cases, containing a few pottery items a few skulls, a few arrows and other oddments, not all of which even pertained to the Manitou Springs natives. I declared that if this was a museum, I was the King of Spain. Jeremy pointed out that, hey, it cost all of $5 to visit. He then asked for a pardon, as long as We were in the neighborhood, which We graciously granted.

So, once we were finished being horrified by the crass commercialism (by contrast, Pikes Peak was nowhere near as bad), we went to the CAVE OF THE WINDS ("A Mountain Full Of Fun"), and waited for other Bobbers to arrive. There being an hour's wait for the tours to start (how handy that they had a video game arcade right there...), many of our intrepid party elected to punt, but eventually a group assembled and we assayed a tour of the depths of the very bowels of the Earth itself! (Actually, considering that we were at about 8000 feet MSL elevation, we hardly made it into the glottis of the Earth itself, but still...) The script of the tour was pretty hokey; people had let their imaginations run wild staring too long at oddly shaped rocks and crevices, and then added light shows to make the point; but in between the inane chatter, the view was pretty interesting. We also heckled our tour guide something fierce, especially Eamon, which increased the entertainment level. Well, "heckled" isn't quite the word, but we were clearly not her run-of-the-mill tour. (She was screaming with laughter at times, so I think we brightened her day.) (This was later worked into the production of Twelfth Night by the amazingly versatile Eamon.)

We ascended into the light, collected our group portrait taken inside the cave (GIF! GIF! GIF!), and then returned to camp. After much hanging-outage, the Saturday Night Formal Dinner was held. (Sara, too young for such late hours, and I retired to the hotel room to collapse in exhaustion, but Babs went to deliver shirts from jv and hats she made; others will have to relate the drunken revelry that ensued.)

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: MOUNT.BOB report #72D, EAT.MORE.CHILI
Date: 8 Aug 1997 00:31:56 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 130

MOUNT.BOB report #72D, EAT.MORE.CHILI (8/3)

Or, A Trip In The Gooleymobile

"I'm not going to show this to Markian, he'll probably throw it away." -Sara

Sunday had fewer activities (so many people having died of exhaustion on either the Trifecta or j.j's DeathMarch 2000), but we went rock-hounding with Gooley and Lilith. There have been many tales of Mark's driving, some fair, some unfair, so I'll not belabour it, but I do want to assure everyone that we all made it safely back and that the psychological scars will almost certainly yield to years of intensive therapy.

Anyway, I forget the name of the place Mark drove us; it was somewhere along Gold Camp Road in Manitou Springs, and we got completely lost getting there because a bridge was out on Upper Gold Camp Road and we were supposed to find and alternate route via "Penrose Blvd". Needless to say, the sign telling us this did not even HINT where Penrose Blvd might be found, and the Forestry Service map Mark had was confusing at best and outright misleading at worst, since it had a distinct bias of only showing those roads of interest to the Forestry Service. Eventually we spotted a woman standing in the street in Colorado Springs who was giving directions to some tennis event going on at the time; she was able to give us concise directions to our own destination, and after a twisting and outright dangerous drive up a dirt road, we arrived at the hiking site.

It turned into a bit of a deathmarch (oh so common that weekend) owing to the paucity of good rocks near the parking area (of course, what little there had been originally had long been picked clean). Babs, Sara and Lilith stopped (note: we were at around 9,700 feet altitude) but Mark and I pressed on. We passed an area which looked like water periodically coursed down from above, and Mark spotted an abandoned sluice, indicating that there must have been a mine some ways up the hill from that point. Unfortunately, "up" was not directly possible, owing to the steepness of the slope, so we followed on the very winding path. After a couple hundred yards of further hiking, as we were doubling back a second time, Gooley slipped ascending the slope, and plunged two thousand feet to his death. Well, not quite, but he did stumble and got a nasty gash on his hand, which convinced him that we were not up to further progress at that point, and we beat a hasty retreat to the Gooleymobile. (On the way back, I started noticing that some of the "random" rocks by the side of the path were, in fact, constructed walls shoring up the path. I realized that if we had spotted this earlier, we should have realized that (a) there was indeed something to go find, since someone had gone to the trouble of making it easy to get there again, and (b) we were nowhere near it yet; this could perhaps have enabled us to avoid the fruitless, time-wasting search at the start. Oh well.)

We got back to the truck, Babs got out her first-aid kit and made Gooley endure great pain cleaning his injury before dispensing a bandage, then we set off back down the hill. This part of the drive was even scarier, since Mark was in a bit of a hurry; Lilith and Babs were perhaps a bit more concerned than was necessary, except perhaps when Lilith smelled overheated brakes (whoops!), but as I said we did make it back safely.

A couple of days later, while waiting for laundry at the Woodland Park laundromat, I read a story in a local newspaper about a local woman who had been killed a few days before in a car accident. It seems that she went sideways off one of those winding dirt roads returning from a friend's house at night. The paper said it didn't appear that either excessive speed or alcohol were factors. Those mountain roads are simply dangerous even when you're used to them.

j.j: "Scott, I'm about to make a mess in my pants!"
kludge: "That's probably the only time I'll ever get you to say that."

Once people regained mobility and the chili pots were cleaned (hey, I sometimes burn chili, too, and it just adds a pleasant smokey flavor), it was time for Bizarre Shakespeare, with The Twelfth Night. Of course, any play that starts out describing someone urinating is hardly in need of bizarrification, but the Talk.bizarre Troupe did a remarkable job of adding up-to-date touches EXACTLY where Wild Bill Shakespeare would have put them if he were alive today and seriously drunk. Unfortunately I left during the intermission (Sara was freezing and I was exhausted), but I want to congratulate the entire cast for a spirited and thoroughly enjoyable production; some of the added touches might have been a bit risque for Sara, but I think they sailed adequately over her head that she won't be scarred for life, and she found the play itself really, really entertaining. Bravo!

[Yet to be posted: DISMOUNT.BOB, and Post-Bob Colorado notes.]

[*] Babs and I brought "Top Hat Chili Mix" purchased from Penderey's, and I added a good portion of some locally-purchased powdered chiles (not "chili powder", a bag of ground chile peppers, indeed one specific variety of chile pepper which I don't recall), cayenne, a bit of cumin, some oregano, plenty of chopped garlic, and maybe two cups of chopped onion, cook appropriately, season to taste (adding water with the spices), thicken with blue corn meal in water. I forgot to obtain and add burgundy, as I usually do for chili, but it seems to have worked well without. It didn't turn out as hot as I usually make chili, but this was good, since it was a general audience chili rather than a masochist's chili.

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: MOUNT.BOB report #72E, The End
Date: 10 Aug 1997 00:06:55 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 28
Message-ID: <5sjeov$1e1@jfwhome.funhouse.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: jfwhome.funhouse.com

MOUNT.BOB report #72E, The End

Or, DISMOUNT.BOB

Monday came at last and it was time to pack up all the toys and go home. I drove omar and katie to the airport, neatly symmetric with the start of the whole affair and also neatly missing the Breakfast Burrito Bash. It took a couple of hours more than anticipated to pack up all the stuff, going way past the official 11AM checkout time (but considering that we didn't get the exclusive reservation we'd paid for, I hardly think there are grounds for complaint here). Tents, supplies, Gooley's Travelling Yard Sale, all packed away, though at the end there were a few unclaimed oddments (a pair of boots, a backpack, assorted body parts, and the like). Eamon will receive a CARE package of his backpack, not to worry, and probably some leftover camp mugs. By the time all the vehicles were filled (and I mean FILLED TO THE BRIM) Jenine was a nervous wreck, and gnat was about to float away due to excess helium inhalation. At the end, though, we all hugged each other, said heartfelt goodbyes, and promised to do it all over again as soon as the scars healed.

A very good time was had by all (or almost all), and as usual, it was nice to be able to associate a few more faces with the logins I see floating by on the newsgroup (even if I can't actually associate the faces with the CORRECT logins). There were a few people I scarcely saw whom I wish I had talked more with, but a BOB twice as long would not have sufficed to spend time with everyone.

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: MOUNT.BOB report #72F, The Aftermath
Date: 10 Aug 1997 00:44:03 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 103
Message-ID: <5sjguj$1kq@jfwhome.funhouse.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: jfwhome.funhouse.com

MOUNT.BOB report #72F, The Aftermath

Babs, Sara and I stayed an extra day in Woodland Park, Colorado. Monday afternoon we spent relaxing after the excitement of the BOB. I wrote up most of my notes while sitting in a laundromat; a very heavy rainstorm started while I was there, and it was just letting up when the dryer stopped (very convenient). This storm was heavier than the previous days' regularly scheduled afternoon thunderstorm, and little did we realize it was a harbinger of things to come.

Tuesday it rained ALL DAY. Therefore, we had to go to the zoo.

Our Tuesday itinerary included the Miramont Castle in Manitou Springs, the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado Springs, and the Garden of the Gods park in Manitou Springs. Miramont Castle was built around 1895 by a wealthy French priest for himself and his aged mother (Colorado Springs, Colorado was a popular area at the time for the infirm due to the dry air); after changing hands a number of times since then, it has now been restored by volunteers as a museum commemorating the bad taste of the Victorian Era. Or something like that. The basement houses "The International Museum of Miniatures", including some toys and dolls from various recent historical periods and different countries, and miniature houses from many lands, including a reconstruction of downtown Manitou Springs around the turn of the century. Sara really liked this part, for some odd reason. The rest of the place (46 rooms, 28 of which were used by the priest and his mother) was a mix of many different architectural styles (hence my comment about bad taste), and was filled with period furniture (very little of the original furniture survived; in fact, much of the original decorative woodwork got used as firewood during a period when the Castle was used as apartments!). After a very interesting tour, there was a very small giftshop (in what had been the servants' bedrooms); we got Sara some books of cutout paper dolls (her interest having been set up by the Miniatures Museum) and some postcards.

Outside was a garden and a small building housing the Golden Circle Model Railroad Museum. The Model Railroad Museum was a sort of logical model of the railroad system in the general Colorado Springs area around the turn of the century. The track was a spiral in three layers, each increasing layer representing a region at higher elevation, going from Colorado Springs itself (7000 feet) through Woodland Park (8500 feet) up to the gold mining region of Cripple Creek (10,000 feet). A number of historical landmarks were shown, including a train roundhouse which was now the Van Briggle Art Pottery Museum. (And sure enough, once we knew that, the odd shape of the building made sense.) The Railroad Museum did not have its own gift shop, thankfully.

As we were driving away from the Castle, I remarked that the Castle was second only to Pike's Peak for square feet of amusement per square foot of gift shop in the area. The Cave of the Winds might have come in second, but I penalized it for silliness. (As it turned out, the museum and the Garden of the Gods both eventually displaced it; not EVERYTHING in Colorado Springs is a gift shop first and an attraction second.)

We spotted a bumper sticker that we found amusing:

"Live, Freeze, and Die.
New Hampshire."

A small strip mall on US 24 had a ski rental shop two doors down from a chiropractor's office.

As we neared the zoo, on Penrose Blvd. (which you may remember from the Gooley trip) we saw a real-estate for-sale sign proclaiming "Protected View". I envisioned mortars on the property line... "encroach on MY view, will ya? FOOM!"

The rain did not let up while we toured the zoo. Rain is not the best weather to see a zoo in, by far. Most of the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo is the traditional cages or pens to display animals in, but a few exhibits tried to create actual natural settings for the animals. The wolf area worked spectacularly well, but the tiger, when we got to that exhibit, was up on a brick wall next to a door, obviously expecting lunch any minute now, and was steadfastly ignoring the lush recreated jungle below it. The giraffes were absent, but we saw elephants, which pleased Sara no end.

The Reptile Room was extremely noisy, because we chanced to reach it just as a group of about 10 boys led by an exasperated woman got there, and of course small boys are going to be absolutely fascinated by snakes and lizards. It occured to me that, given that, it would probably be a good idea for the ceiling of such an area to have sprinklers ready to shower everyone with Valium and Ritalin if the noise level reaches a certain threshold...

We had lunch at the zoo and got more items at the zoo gift shop (medium size, largish zoo). We wanted to go to the nearby Will Rogers Shrine Of The Sun, but seeing as how it was pouring rain at the time, we didn't bother.

The rain was just a drizzle when we got to the Garden of the Gods. I don't know how this area of Manitou Springs came to be regarded as far more scenic than any of the surrounding area, but it certain was scenic; they have a winding road through the park, allowing you to visit lots of oddly shaped rock formations (including a couple of big red rocks a couple of hundred feet high and darn near vertical). I took lots of pictures, though the light began to fade as we got to the really nicest areas. Once it was convincingly dusk, we set out back toward the hotel and then had dinner at a Chinese restaurant in Woodland Park (which was actually excellent, much to our astonishment; the Canton China restaurant on US 24, for those readers in the area). We then packed, slept like logs, awoke, got on a plane, and headed home, back to sea-level air and the daily grind of normal life.

A very satisfying week indeed. Thank you all!

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: MOUNT.BOB report #72G
Date: 10 Aug 1997 23:18:11 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 19
Message-ID: <5sm09j$99p@jfwhome.funhouse.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: jfwhome.funhouse.com

MOUNT.BOB report #72G: MOUNT.BOB in other universes.

"Absorb more nutrient solution!"

"Show us your maintenance hatch!"

"Put them back in the Gooler!" (Wait, that was THIS universe.)

"Not only did they rent half the spawning ground to a bunch of Zardists AFTER we rented it, *they* got the dampest part!"

"Do I have to hit you with my neutron spectrometer?"

Mandibles often used near trephanation by older beetles.

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From: jfw@jfwhome.funhouse.com (John F. Woods)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Re: MOUNT.BOB report #72B, People Overload
Date: 10 Aug 1997 00:47:20 -0400
Organization: Misanthropes-R-Us
Lines: 20
Message-ID: <5sjh4o$1n7@jfwhome.funhouse.com>
References: <5se1o7$hit@jfwhome.funhouse.com> <5sf8v6$q67@info-server.surrey.ac.uk> <5sftle$lck@freenet-news.carleton.ca> <5si37d$4kv@info-server.surrey.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: jfwhome.funhouse.com

In <5si37d$4kv@info-server.surrey.ac.uk> eep1lw@surrey.ac.uk (Lloyd Wood) writes:
>: Lloyd Wood (eep1lw@surrey.ac.uk) writes:
>: > Proof that MOUNT.BOB was just like any other corporate event.
>Proof that MOUNT.BOB was just like any other corporate event.

Three Haiku on a Theme For Refrigerator Boy

Despised and ignored
He denigrates others' joy
Shut the fuck up, Lloyd.

Wallowing in spite
bitterness leaves him friendless
Shut the fuck up, Lloyd.

Can't stand T-dot-Bobs?
You are a stupid asshole.
SHUT THE FUCK UP, LLOYD.

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