More on Muscles (and the brain, and energy)

Yesterday's post was about muscle memory. This morning I was listening to a RadioLab podcast. Yes, I know, I've posted about their show about 100 times (okay, actually maybe 3), but it's really interesting. They do both hour-long episodes which get pretty in-depth, and they also do "shorts," which are subjects that for whatever reason never made it to the hour-long version - not enough material, distraction by the producers (which they do seem prone to), etc. There are also random segments where they play music or something. It's hard to categorize the show; the best I can do is to say it's structured a little bit like This American Life (one theme, and a number or variations on that topic), but is more relaxed and fun and random. The RadioLab guys like to use sound effects and weave little snippets of interviews into their story, sometimes to move it along, sometimes as background. It's interesting stuff. Anyway....

The episode I was listening to was called Limits (you can listen to the whole show online), and the first segment was about the physical limits of the body (which is why I made the connection to yesterday's post). The first interviewee was a woman named Julie Moss. She was a P.E. (as in gym class) major in college, and decided as her senior project that she would do the Ironman Triathlon and write about the physiological effects of such an endeavor on the body. The Ironman consists of a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride, and a 26.2-mile run. And it's a race. It began as a challenge among a group of Navy SEALS, and is now participated in by a broader swath of people, all of whom are equally as crazy as the first SEALS were. Back to the story: Julie was going to do the Ironman as her senior project. She was fit, as a P.E. major should be, but did no specific triathlon training to speak of. Lo and behold, she found herself in the lead! She said in the interview that her motivation to keep moving was that she had to finish her school project. Witness what happened at the end of the race here.

Another interview in this segment was with Stephen Auerbach, who produced a documentary film called Bicycle Dreams, about the Race Across America. RAAM is a 3000-mile coast-to-coast bike race, with no stages and no rest days. The clock is running 24/7, so every hour a rider stops to sleep is an hour that another competitor might pass them by. Half the people who start the race don't finish, and those who do are not in good shape. Some riders' necks give out and can't hold up their heads anymore, so they tie a rope to the back of their helmet, and run it down their back to their waist or belt or the back of their seat! Just to hold their head up!

The discussion on RadioLab focused mainly on a Slovenian racer named Jure (YOO-ree) Robic. (There was also some discussion of a French guy named Patrick Autissier, but he's not quite as crazy as Jure.) Jure has now won the men's solo RAAM 5 times, most recently this year. It took him 9 days.

Earlier in the podcast, the hosts discussed this little internal regulator mechanism that we all have called the Central Governor. This governor makes your body hurt when you're spending your reserves of energy; its job is to make you stop because it wants to preserve what energy you have left. But the governor will send signals to stop way before you've actually used up all your reserves. Great athletes have mastered the art of pushing through this "stop!" message, and get another boost of energy once they reach that safety reservoir the governor is trying to protect. Crazy athletes like Jure have gone even beyond that. The RAAM riders and other extreme endurance athletes bust through that barrier, and go even further. The governor kicks in again when you've passed tired and you really feel like you're dead, like you absolutely cannot even lift a finger. This feeling is the central governor trying to save your last little drop of energy, in case you need to run for your life from a bear or something.

So, back to Jure. When he starts to hit his first wall, he has his van team drive alongside him playing Slovenian war songs (did I mention he's a soldier?). That seems to help him cross his first "stop and save your energy!" barrier. It works until he gets to Ohio or thereabouts. By this point, he's been through heat, cold, mountains, plains, dehydration, physical exhaustion - the works. After enduring all that, it's clear that the physical integrity of the athlete is strong; so now an athlete's body will send all the stress signals to the last possible point of breakdown: the mind. Hallucination ensues. Patrick saw shadows running across the road in front of his bike, and saw the trees reaching out to grab him. Stephen (the producer) also reported that riders saw secret codes in the cracks in the road, jumped off their bikes to get into a fistfight with mailboxes, and other madness. This is where a lot of people quit the ride. Jure, on the other hand, saw bearded Afghan horsemen - the mujahideen. And they were shooting at him.

So, remember how that regulator is packing away your last little bit of energy for when you need to run for your life. Well, Jure really did think he needed to bike for his life. He was convinced that he really was going to die if he couldn't get away from these guys. And his central governor really believes he's going to die too. So off he goes, biking like mad and feeling no pain, though he won't really remember it later.

It is amazing what the human body is capable of. This is fascinating stuff, people. Really.

[If you want to read more about Jure and this crazy stuff that happens to athletes like him, there is a New York Times article, and some interesting stuff in the Scientific American about the "sensed presence effect," though you can't read the whole article unless you have a subscription.]

Muscle Memory

A recent story on NPR discussed muscle development, and the structural changes they undergo when they are exercised. This new study suggests that muscles which are worked hard (and especially worked early in life) will be better able to regain strength, even after years of lack of use, relative to unworked muscles. Your muscles can remember their former strength!

This story reminded me of a line from one of the Lord of the Rings movies (seen them too many times, perhaps?), where Gandalf is talking to the very weakened Theoden, and suggests to him that his "fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped [his] sword."

What the interview doesn't address, and I am curious about (assuming this is all true), is whether specific muscle movement are more easily remembered. Think of the phrase, "Just like riding a bike," which is used to explain how once you've learned something, you'll always remember how to do it. So let's say you play soccer as a kid. You start in grade school, maybe play through high school. If you spend years being lazy and then decide you want to get back in shape, will you have better luck playing soccer, or will your early-in-life fitness translate to any new endeavor you undertake?

Four Quartets

"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."
- T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding" from Four Quartets

What I'm Reading Now -- The Space Between Us

This book was recommended to me by a coworker at my bookstore, and in truth, I'm almost finished with it. I started it while I was in Breck, where I made excellent progress, although I have read exactly 0 pages since my plane landed in St. Louis.

I'll reserve comments on this book until I've finished it, except to say that it's the story of two women in India, and how each one's life has crossed, paralleled, and challenged the other's.

Waking Up

This morning I had one of those mornings. You know the kind.

You wake up, and there is a little bit of light coming through the windows. The temperature is just right - not too hot, not too cold. The bed is comfortable. The dog is apparently also having a good morning; he is still asleep on the bed.

It would be nice to relax there for a while, though that is usually not an option. But at least it was a good start.

Still More Breck Pics

It's true. I have more. I still haven't found the picture of the red and yellow paintbrush (although in truth, I haven't actually looked - when I say "I still haven't found," I mean it has not e-mailed itself to me.)

This big pile of rocks and gravel and stuff is what is called dredge spoil. There are miles of piles (I rhyme!) like this along the rivers around Breck - and maybe all over Colorado? I don't know, but probably so. 100 years ago or so, people wanting gold and other deposits built dredges on the shallow rivers out west. The dredges would churn up the bottom of a river, sifting out the good stuff, and leaving behind lots of other stuff - some just unsightly, like these rocks, and some toxic. The rocks were dumped in these enormous piles, which are still just sitting there, looking all barren and unfortunate. There is a reproduction dredge sitting in the Blue River right there in downtown Breckenridge.


One night, just before dinner, this amazing alpenglow happened, and we had a great view from the balcony!

It looked like the mountain was on fire!

Inkdeath -- Take 2

Yes, I know it took me forever to read this book. I've been very busy moving and trying to catch up on some magazines I was behind on (though I still have a lot more of both to do).

This is the last book of the Inkheart trilogy, and we pick up with our intrepid hero and heroine, father and daughter, Mo and Meggie. They are in the Inkworld, recovering from the disasters of the second book and trying to find a way home.

One thing I can say for sure about this book is that it's not for kids, despite its classification. Witness these passages and ideas, some of which are rather inappropriate for children, and some of which are just sad (even if true):

- Orpheus was "taking pleasure with one of the maids...."

- "His silver nose still looked like a beak in the middle of his face. There were tales saying that the Adderhead had ordered a silver heart to be made for his herald, too, but Fenoglio felt sure there was still a human heart beating in the Piper's breast. Nothing was more cruel than a heart made of flesh and blood, because it knew what gives pain."

- "He saw so many emotions mingled on her face: anger, disappointment, fear -- and defiance. Like her daughter, thought Fenoglio again. So uncompromising, so strong. Women were different, no doubt about it. Men broke so much more quickly. Grief didn't break women. Instead it wore them down, it hollowed them out, very slowly."

- The author quotes passages from other words at the beginning of every chapter: "'You wish for something you don't really want, the dream says. / Bad dream. Punish him. Chase him from the house. / Tie him to the horses, let him run with them. / Hang him. He deserves it. / Feed him mushrooms. Poisonous ones.' - Paavo Haavikko, 'The Trees Breathe Gently'"

- "The happiness in her voice moved him, and he wondered, not for the first time, how it was that the book that had told him so much about fire elves and giants said so little about the Adderhead's daughter. To Fenoglio, Violante had been only a minor character, an ugly, unhappy little girl, nothing more. Perhaps you could learn from her how small parts can be made into major roles of you play them in your own way."

- "Cheeseface was not alone when his bodyguard told him about his late-night visitor. There were three girls with Orpheus, none of them much older than Meggie, and they had been cooing at him for hours, telling him how clever, important, and irresistible he was. The oldest was sitting on his plump knees, and Orpheus was kissing and fondling her so grossly that Farid would have liked to strike his fingers away. He was always being sent out to bring Orpheus the prettiest girls in Ombra."

- The idea that the main character loves one of her parents more than the other.

- And the occasional curse word.

These are not things for children! I would put this book solidly in the teen category if it were up to me.

As an adult, and probably more able to understand and appreciate some of the themes than a 10-year-old would be (I hope), I really liked it. It didn't end at all how I expected, which is one of the things I like. Things weren't always happy. Sometimes the bad guys didn't get their comeuppance the way you like them to. Sometimes the characters who showed the most arrogance or hubris came out just fine. (But sometimes not.)

Then there are the trials and tribulations of love. Lots of couples in this book - old and young, married and un-. Things go well for some, and others suffer a lot of disappointment; sometimes (as is often the case in real life) the same characters experience both. This, I think, is one of the most teen-oriented parts of the book, because our teenage heroine experiences her first love, and her first failure at it.

And lastly, there is intense exploration of the ideas of fate, choice, and chance. For example, Fenoglio (referenced in some of the above quotes) wrote the book that allegedly created the Inkworld. As new characters from the "real" world enter the Inkworld, things start to go terribly awry. Fenoglio tries to fix it by rewriting the story, and having Meggie or Mo read his words to life. But there is another reader/writer who has entered the story - the proud and greedy Orpheus. He twists Fenoglio's words to change the story yet again, and eventually it spirals out of everyone's control. But was it ever in their control to begin with? How have the characters who have come into the lives of the characters changed the story, if at all? How much say do the characters have over their own actions?

As an appropriate and parting tribute, I will leave you with this quote from Inkdeath, which is terribly reminiscent of something Frodo says to Samwise Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King: "He'll kill him, you wait and see," replied the Strong Man, and his voice sounded so confident that for a precious moment even Meggie forgot all her fears for Mo. But the moment passed, and once again she felt the snow on her skin, as cold as the end of all things."

Mad Men - The Dinner Series, Part I

One of my fave TV shows, Mad Men, started up again about a month ago. Very cool. Since K is now caught up and totally into it, we decided to meet up on Sunday nights, cook dinner, and watch the show. J and A (our cousin who's in from Jeff City for a job) have joined us, and we've had loads of fun figuring out (a) what to make, and (b) how to make it. Except last night when I almost got blown up. That was slightly less fun than normal. But anyway...

Yesterday was K's choice for dinner (not the band), so we had the following menu: cheese ravioli with spinach and tomatoes; sourdough bread with ricotta, salt, and pepper (broiled - that's how I almost got blown up); and vanilla ice cream with berries and chocolate sauce. K was especially thrilled with the dessert, and insisted that I take a picture of J's partially-eaten (believe it or not!) final course. So, here it is:

Dessert.

Other Breck Pics

Okay, I've been back through all my earlier Breck posts, and added in additional pictures where appropriate. I also have some random ones I thought I'd put up just for fun:

Keystone enjoying life on the balcony...

...and close to the water bowl.

Peaks on the way home from fishing at the Slate Hole. I didn't even take too many big-scale pictures, because you really can't capture the true sense of hugeness of space out here. But there are a few, just to try to give an idea.

Orange Paintbrush
I also had a pic of some red and yellow paintbrush, but I can't seem to find it. I'll post it later if it turns up.

Dad's big rainbow

T in the car

Flaco's Cocina

Last night J and I went to Flaco's Cocina for a late dinner. This place is a curiosity to me. I have been there twice now - once for happy hour (on a Tuesday or Wednesday, if I recall correctly), and now for dinner on a Thursday. And both times I've been there, I'm pretty sure there were more employees than there were customers.

The place is tiny - probably 10 small tables, and maybe a dozen bar stools - and it seems like the employees just congregate around the end of the bar and chat. This is not to say that the service was bad or they were ignoring us; it just seems odd to have them all standing around. Although I guess if there aren't that many customers, they probably don't have much to do. Although it's been open for business the entire 3-1/2 years since I discovered it (although I didn't go there for the first time until less than a year ago), so I'd think they have to be making at least a little money, no?

We started out our meal with queso and chips as an appetizer. And the queso? It was real cheese. Not nasty melt-y cheese sauce stuff that came out of a can. But real cheese that had been in the oven (I burned my tongue). The chips were just-greasy-enough house-fried tortilla chips, and were far tastier than the dried-out chips and salsa you get at most places. The fajitas (braised carnitas) were also delicious. We got a portion for two, and it was more than enough for both of us! (However, our waiter said we would get 8 tortillas, and we only got 7. I know this because I can do math. Last night, we each had 2. That makes 4. Today for lunch, I had 2 more. That makes 6. But there's only 1 left. So: 7, not 8.) Maybe the take-away lesson is that people who make good food can't necessarily count. But hey, when you get more food than you can eat in three meals, who the heck cares, really?

Breckenridge, Day 5

Today started out as a black day. I did get to sleep in a little, and had a delicious breakfast consisting of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and mango juice. But the fishing did not start out well. We set off around 8:00, and drove through Silverthorne and beyond on Hwy 9, and then got on...wait for it...Highway 40! It's almost like I never left St. Louis! Except that there are mountains here. Whatever.


View Larger Map

Anyway, all along the way, once we got up near the Colorado River, we were checking out fishing spots. It's funny around here, because there are all these little pull-outs along the highway, where people just park their cars, and walk down to the river to fish. Roads, rivers and railroads are trifecta out here. That makes for lots of relatively easy fishing access.


The day started out black because Dad caught two small brown trout. We were on a wide, flat, relatively shallow stretch of the Colorado, and I had no luck at all. Things were very bleak for me in the War of the Fish. I was being outmaneuvered by a more advanced military force, shriveling in the face of superior firepower. It was bad.

Dad wasn't happy with the fishing there either, though, so we headed back to the car, stopped in lovely Kremmling for some tasty Mexican food for lunch, and then headed to a spot on the Blue River called the Slate Hole. Which is funny, because that big rock-slide wall that you see? It's shale.



Regardless, do you know what I like about the Slate/Shale Hole? I caught a fish. The tables were turning. T was goin' down.

I had another hook-up a little bit later, but after a couple of flips in the air, the fish spit the hook and I never brought him in. Clearly terrified at the prospect of defeat, T said it was time to go. Actually, he said that twice. The first time, he said "we'll just go down here, fish this one spot, then leave." So we went to that spot. Just as he was ready to leave again, after calmly and reasonably (ha) expressing his distaste for uncooperative fish and tangled fly lines, the fish started to rise. This was my chance. I was still one fish behind, but they were feeding.

Game. On.

T was getting a lot of strikes, but no fish yet. Then, like a flash of light, I had another rainbow on the line. This was the moment of truth. I was all worried that he was going to spit the hook like the last one - turns out, it wouldn't have been possible. He had smacked at it pretty good, and it took a lot of elbow grease and a forceps to get the hook out of the poor guy's lip. He flopped back into the water a little stunned, but swam away of his own accord, so I think he's OK.

It was getting late, roundabout 4:30. Since we were tied 5-5, T shouted upstream that next fish wins. It was sudden death overtime. 10 minutes later when neither of us had caught a fish, he amended to "next fish, or call it a draw at 5:00." The pressure was on, and man! I almost had it. Just like earlier in the day, I had a fish on the line. I set the hook, but he ran at me, flipped in the air, and spit the hook. Dad said that didn't count. I thought it should, but then he pointed out that the multitude of strikes which he had gotten (and I hadn't) should probably count for something too, in that case. Fair point.

So, 5:00 rolled around and we called it quits - tied 5 to 5 over three days of fishing. It was a long trek back to the car, and Dad stopped every so often to point out the good spots where he had caught big fish before. It reminded me of that line from A River Runs Through It: "Paul stayed home [in Montana] for college, unwilling to leave the fish he had not yet caught."

Eventually we did make it back to the car, and the weather was just right for rollin' down the highway with the windows open.

That's me!

Remember a couple of days ago how I said there were whole hillsides that had been decimated by the pine bark beetle? Well, check these out:




That, ladies and gents, is what many a wanderer now sees whilst traversing the fine and non-humid state of Colorado. No good at all. There are lots of dead trees near Frisco, and you can see where they've started chopping them down in an effort to protect the town when (not if) they burn.

We had initially planned to go out to dinner tonight, but our fishing extravaganza took a little longer than we expected. Instead, we had some roasted root-type veggies and grilled cheesy turkey sandwiches. And I am going to have some more Graeter's momentarily. Jealous? You should be!

Breckenridge, Day 4

This morning was another early start for T and I. We headed out the door about 6:45, bound for Terryall Creek. T had booked us on some private ranch water, and we could arrive anytime after 8:00 am to get the key for the gate. We covered some of the same territory we did yesterday, but the weather was very different, which totally changed the scenery. Today started off (and ended) foggy and misty and overcasty, whereas yesterday it was bright sunny.

View Larger Map

On the way to Terryall, though, you'll never believe what we saw...frosty ground! Apparently there had been a sizeable hail storm in the area overnight, and the grass was still white in a few places, with lots of little piles of hail, lookin' like snow, along the side of the (very potholed) road. It looked like winter! And it's August!

We picked up our gate key and parking pass at the general store/B&B just down the road from the ranch, then headed out to test the waters. Turns out, the waters did not like us much today. I caught one brown trout, not terribly big. I could have had a huge one, if I hadn't gotten my line all eff'd up just as he was coming for my dry fly. C'est la vie; he will be the one who got away.


T had more success than I did, though. He caught one whompin' big rainbow trout, and another that was a tad larger than the brown I snagged. But that was it for the day. It was off-and-on windy and looked like it was going to dump on us at any minute, so that combined with our general lack of success put an end to our fishing adventure.

Even T can't believe how enormous this fish is!

Not as impressive, therefore T is not as shocked

However, he is still pleased with his overall success for the day!

Current fish score:
T: 3

M: 3

This means war, as there is only one day of fishing left....

Just as we got back to the car, the first raindrops fell - the first since I've been here! Dad said it rained practically every day before I got here. I am just a ray of f**king sunshine, apparently :-)

I was excited on the drive back, partially because we got coffee, and partly because I saw two donkeys! One donkey on each of two separate ranches. Just hanging out there with the horses! (Apparently they have a calming effect on nervous horses, so they are often pastured together.) I tried to convince T to get one as a pet, but I'm not sure he's sold on the idea yet. Donkeys are supposedly smart, though, and in fact make good pets. Everybody help me out here - how cool would it be to have a pet donkey?

The rest of the drive back to Breck was pretty uneventful, except that we ended up behind a Jeep on the road which was also from MO!

Poor Keystone had to skip his morning walk due to our early departure, so we took him out when we got back. And by "we took him out," I mean I took pictures while Dad had his arm ripped off. Keystone seemed to rather enjoy his daily swim in the reservoir, though.


And guess what...this reservoir and our walk down the hill? I've been there before. I just didn't know it. And I was on skis at the time. Does this look familiar?




I didn't think so. It didn't really to me either - in fact, I was pretty sure Dad was just messing with my head - until you start getting to the part where you're passing by people's houses. It all looks very different when it's covered with snow, and the lift is actually running!

Dinner was a reprise of Friday night, since we're trying to use up the perishable food before I leave. T is leaving the same day I do, except while I'm headed back to the working world and miserable St. Louis weather, he's off for a few (more) days of mountain fishing. (Is this fair?) But just to be clear, the fish count is only valid on days that we are both fishing (so don't get any bright ideas!).

Breckenridge, Day 3

Today was a driving tour. I have only ever been up here in the winter, when we spend most of our time either skiing or trying to get ski boots off or on, so I didn't really know the lay of the land around these parts. Since we will probably go fishing the next two days, we took today to cruise around to the south a little bit:


View Larger Map

Our route first took us up over Hoosier Pass, elevation 11,542 feet. The view from the road over the top was impressive - enormous mountains all around, in every direction. We cruised on down the other side, first through Alma (which claims to be the highest incorporated town in North America, although Wikipedia feels otherwise), and then continued on to a wide spot in the road called Hartsel. Hartsel is located in South Park, which is one of the high mountain plains that you find yourself in the middle of sometimes up here. (This is not what the show was named for, Dad assures me.)



The high plains are strange, because they are so huge, but they don't really seem like it. Mountains which it looks like you could walk to in 20 minutes are actually 25 miles away! Something that has always fascinated me about those wide open spaces is the way you can see the clouds (when there are clouds) moving across the ground as well as across the sky. That is cool stuff. And I could see it today.

From Hartsel we turned southwest toward Buena Vista, or as people around here call it, Byoo-na Vista. Once we got there, we turned north again, passing the Collegiate Peaks on the left - Princeton, Yale, and Harvard. The Collegiate Peaks are part of the Sawatch Range, which in turn are part of the Rockies. I don't really understand all these divisions, and according to T, they're pretty arbitrary anyway.



Our goal for the whole day was to end up in Copper Mountain by 3:00, which we did. In fact, we were there about an hour early, which worked out well, because we hadn't had lunch yet. This weekend in Copper was Guitar Town, which included a performance this afternoon by slide guitar legend Sonny Landreth. We camped out near the back of the crowd (since we were late arrivals), but still had a pretty good view - it was a small crowd. He played for a little over an hour, and there was certainly some screamin' guitar. And in case you needed visual stimulation as well as auditory, all that was required was a glance at some of the odd characters in the crowd. Oh, and there was olfactory stimulation as well - the kids next to us were smoking dope for the first 20 minutes of his set.



We got home probably around 5, and had a lazy afternoon of reading and drinking beer on the balcony. Dinner was delicious - we made a salad. Spring greens, blueberries, raspberries, avocado, and last night's leftover venison, topped with a golden balsamic vinaigrette with honey, made by yours truly.

Time for bed - we have an early morning tomorrow. I hear there are fish in the waters around here, but instead we've decided to drive 75 minutes away to go hunting for them instead.

Breckenridge, Day 2

I went to bed very early last night. Probably 9:00, I would guess. Which was good, because T got me up at 6:30 to go fishing.


We went to the Arkansas River, or the Ark, as the locals call it. Our first fishing spot required a stroll across some dude's ranch land, right through the middle of his herd of cows. I'm pretty sure cows don't know how to fish, as they are possibly the stupidest animals on Earth, but I'm also pretty sure they were judging my fishing ability. And they were right to, because I did not do well there.

After about 3 hours or 4 hours of no luck, we hopped back into the car and went to a different spot on the river. No cows here, but we were in for another lovely stroll down the railroad tracks. Apparently railroad tracks, highways, and rivers are a natural threesome around here, due to ease of construction of the former two along the latter. At the second spot we did better. Had quantifiable success, you might say: I caught two brown trout and Dad caught one, although I only had one other strike and he had about four (but a couple of those were at the first spot). As we kept working, the wind started to pick up, so that was the end of the fishing day for us. Plus it was lunch time.


We stopped a very odd and old little bar in Leadville called the Pastime. It was dark and dirty, but had lots of Oriental decorations - a bamboo (or at least bamboo-themed) bar, Chinese statuary, paper lanterns, etc. Oh, and a giant poster of Marilyn Monroe looking down on us while we ate. And a high-tech touch-screen jukebox (how many things are wrong with what I just said? Jukeboxes are not supposed to be either of those things.) that would periodically play songs of its own accord. But the burger was good, as was the Blue Moon, although I had to go back out to the car for my fishing license to prove I was old enough to drink. (That's three people now who've thought I was way young - one even thought I was in high school!)

On our way back (actually, also on the way out, but I'm talking about it now, because this is when I got pictures), we passed by the Climax Mine, which mined molybdenum in its day. It's not in operation right now; they had apparently started the process of getting the whole operation going again, but then the economy tanked. Molybdenum is used in making steel alloys, so when manufacturing of all sorts screeched to a halt a couple years ago, the demand for molybdenum went through the floor. The same people who own the Climax Mine, Freeport-McMoRan Copper & Gold, also own Henderson Mine, which mines molybdenum too. It's still in operation, and apparently providing all we need.

The Climax Mine facility

Check out the difference in colors - the yellowish area just above the trees has been mined, while the gray in the background is natural rock

Wider view of the facility

Also on the way back we discussed the sad story of the Pine Bark Beetle. They are attacking pine trees all over the western US, sometimes leaving whole hillsides covered with nothing but dead or dying trees. I didn't get any good pics of the really bad hills, though we did see some on the drive, especially closer to Frisco.


After showering and hitting up the liquor and grocery stores, Dad made a delish dinner consisting of seared venison loin with berry sauce, roasted potatoes with rosemary, and roasted asparagus. And we had some tasty wine that we (okay, really he) picked up at the liquor store. And you will never believe what I found at the grocery store! Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, they had Graeter's ice cream!! Dad had to good sense to point out that City Market here is owned by Kroger, which is headquartered in Cincinnati. Anyway, I got Black Raspberry Chip, and I had some for dessert.



And I have pictures from today because we took T's camera along!

In Frisco: how very Colorado!