Autumn Color

We haven't been able to do much fall color photography the last few years, but I am sure relishing the half day we spent recording the gorgeous hues of autumn at the end of September.

Lizard wanted to ride a mountain trail he used to tackle all the time before his Parkinson's diagnosis. Up to St. Elmo we went! The ride was "steeper and much harder" than he remembered, his words, so we weren't able to do the entire five miles. But what we did do was spectacular, and I hope he can keep riding, even if only a couple of miles at a time, for many years to come!

Fortunately, many rest stops meant many, many photos. Didn't do bad for such a short high altitude visit!!!

Lizard has had such a rough year, thanks to our friend Parky. But he keeps right on fighting, and I'm going to try to keep making wonderful memories with him as long as we possibly can.

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Valentine Memories

Not long after Lizard's diagnosis, one of my closest friends found out her dad had it, too, and she, a non-blogger, began reading Snowcatcher daily to learn what I was doing to cope with "our new normal". She once asked me to write about our journey down this unchosen path more often because she wanted and needed more information.

One of my goals now that it's safer to do so is to get Lizard out of the house for a mini adventure once in a while. Last September, we spent three days in Cody, Wyoming, the first true vacation we'd had in at least five years but possibly longer. The long drive was difficult for him. Once we got there, he didn't want to endure long drives into Yellowstone, so we didn't get to see much of what I wanted to see, but both of us were surprised by how well he did in spite of discomfort. And we got to watch a grizzly and her potential mate (from a very safe distance) for nearly an hour! That was such a great and unexpected treat!

Lizard was diagnosed with Parkinson's in 2018, had to retire the following year due to the rapid advance of the disease, got a new knee in December of 2019, then got a new back just eight months later, during the height of the pandemic.

Both surgeries were necessary but took a dramatic toll on the Parkinson's. Even winter now takes a heavy toll on the Parkinson's. People don't die of Parkinson's. They die from falls caused by Parkinson's. The friend who asked me to write more often about Parkinson's lost her father a couple of months ago due to a fall caused by Parkinson's. Another friend also recently lost her father due to a Parkinson's fall. Lizard's balance has become so unpredictable, I've become quite the mother hen trying to prevent him from falling.

The disease is still progressing more rapidly than even his doctors expected. Medication increases occur now just about every single visit to the neurologist. Medication increases work phenomenally for about two weeks. Then we're back at the start of this vicious loop. One day, I'm going to document how difficult it was (and shouldn't have been) to obtain disability benefits for Lizard, but not today. Today, I want to celebrate.

We had not "celebrated" Valentine's Day since 2017, and even 2017 was a marked disturbance in the force. When looking back to see when the Lizard was last able to honor his tradition of hyacinths and chocolate for me on February 14, I discovered he had begun having trouble with our road trips as far back as 2016. Three cycling vacations that year had been reduced to sightseeing because the long drives had taken so much out of him. Back then, we had no idea why he never felt like riding something we'd long planned. It was difficult to thumb through photos from our planned trips when the bikes never came off the carrier on the car.

I wanted this year to be different. Not only is it safe to be out in the world again, to a degree, but I felt Lizard needed reasons to celebrate. New adventures to which we could look forward. Making new memories that will lift his spirits. Knowing a road trip would be difficult, I planned our return to the Grand Mesa for cross-country skiing, our once annual Valentine tradition, because the trip is less than three hours.

It was fun to go back and look at the photos from our previous trips! Lizard got very enthusiastic about the possibility of cross-country skiing again, and I knew we both would enjoy the aerobic activity.

We had to stop twice along the way to our charming hotel, which I wasn't sure would still be doing the Valentine option we've enjoyed in the past, so during one of our stops I helped Lizard to pick out some chocolates he planned to use as decorations in our hotel room.

We were able to walk to Rifle Falls during the second stop, and not only did that help Lizard endure the final leg of the drive, but it got him outdoors, where he enjoyed the beautiful weather and the sound of water spilling over a cliff.

I learned last year when my dad died it's better to pay for a larger room so Lizard has room to pace the floor during his down times (the one- to two-hour block that occurs four times each day when his meds wear off until he can take another dose). He makes use of extra floor space wherever we are every single time his meds wear off. This trip's extra cost was well worth the price. Not only did he have a safe place to burn off his restlessness, I think the larger rooms also help prevent claustrophobia, which also has become a real thing for him. I actually think that contributes more to his level of discomfort in the car than the restlessness.

Our room was so nice! We had a sleeper sofa we didn't have to use, so all that space where the extra bed would have been made for hours of walking in circles, which is a way of life at home, too. Lizard asked me to step out of the room so he could decorate. I'm so in love with this guy!

The trip from the hotel to the snow-covered meadows where we love to ski cross-country huge laps wasn't too pleasant. The roads were plowed continually throughout the day, but the huge accumulation has created a narrow, winding path without many safe pull-outs where Lizard could walk around for a few minutes. I drive fairly slow in such conditions anyway, but I also have to drive much slower than normal now because Lizard's heighened anxiety causes him to be fearful on curves with steep drop-offs. Once we arrived at a designated cross-country ski trail, the whipping wind and falling graupel made Lizard wary of putting on skis. However, he enjoyed a couple of laps on foot from the car to the first curve in the ski trail tracks and back. In reality, I knew we might not be able to ski much more than that, so I was happy with what he was able to accomplish. He wants to try again next month, if we can, and that gives me SO much hope.

I always try to plan time we have to spend in the car around his down times so Lizard isn't as miserable. Sometimes, the meds don't make much of a difference. But every once in a while, I get it right, and the return trip was enjoyable for both of us. He enjoyed the scenery. Overall, we didn't get to do everything we planned, and our time away was too short. I also forgot to take photos of us on the Grand Mesa. But the memories add to our volumes from the past, and the smiles and hugs we shared will carry us until our next adventure!

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September 11 Reimagined

In 2016, we began our September 11 ride in Mt. Vernon, Washington. We and our riding companions Mrs. Micawber and husband had donned our most patriotic gear after raising money in support of the fight against multiple sclerosis. All four of us needed to finish the day's ride early in order to meet other commitments, so we met at the start gate before the rest of the 1,200 or so other riders. We sang the national anthem as we pedaled out toward the picturesque bay.

Now, on the 20th anniversary of a day that still holds pain for many, Lizard and I were about to ride our second September 11 ride with purpose. Smoke from wildfires afar was finally beginning to clear.

I didn't have to work at 8 a.m., so we could take our time and not rush. We got the bikes ready for what we hoped would be a 6.5-mile journey to the top of Waterton Canyon. Lizard had made it to the picnic bench near the top twice, but the dam had been too much of an incline so far. The "top" of the canyon had been elusive.

I'd bought a "Let's Roll" jersey from the Triple Bypass on eBay for Lizard when we first began dating because he'd confided he'd always wanted to do the Triple. He refused to wear the jersey until he earned it by riding the Triple the following year. This year, he let me wear his prized jersey because it doesn't fit him right now.

I held his bike while he put the front wheel on mine. His odometer, which he doesn't reset for each ride the way I do, read 411, plus some other digits to which I did not pay heed. His odometer inspired a photo I hoped to capture in 9.11 miles.

We started up the canyon, and for the second time this month, deer were nibbling on the apples less than a mile in. I couldn't resist. I told Lizard to pedal on and that I would catch up to him. I remember well the years I could not hold his pace. I remember the thousands of times he would power up to the top of the canyon, then ride back to me and climb a second time with me at my pace. Our normal Ride the Rockies routine, too.

Memories of a guy I wished would be interested in me more than two decades ago swirled. He complained about how slow I was on my bike. I'm so grateful I did not get saddled with someone so selfish.

I remembered riding with my kids when they were young. I always brought up the rear so I would know where they were. My son could ride much faster than my daughter, and I frequently had to remind him to circle back every once in a while so I would know he was okay. I rode slow because I had to, and that was okay. I never longed to ride faster. I was thrilled to be able to ride and to be able to do something together as a family we all loved.

I spent about 20 minutes taking pictures of the deer, a mom and her yearling fawn in the warm orange post-dawn glow. The first time I'd witnessed this, the larger group of deer seemed to be nearly choking on the little green apples because they were eating them whole. These two were much wiser, nibbling a bite at a time. Not quite the photo opportunity I'd experienced the first time, but a treat nonetheless. In more ways than one!

The last time I'd photographed muley breakfast, Lizard had turned around to head back by the time I reached him. He often can't make it more than three miles. He says he has no legs or that his legs just aren't firing. That's how he describes one of the nastier Parkinson's symptoms.

His goal today was to make it to the top of the canyon. No matter what. I wanted to be there with him when he accomplished his goal. And I wanted to be there to encourage him on if he was struggling. The way he always encouraged me when I felt like I couldn't pedal another inch. "Push, push, push!" he'd gently and lovingly encourage me.

Onward and upward. Time for me to get going.

It took me four miles to catch him, and when I first spied him, I could see he was running out of steam. I'd been riding as fast as I could, which isn't as fast as I used to be able to go because I'm so out of shape now, following three years of no real training rides. Nevertheless, I was burning calories, and that's always a good thing.

Finally at his side, I told him with a flirtatious smile in my voice he's a hard man to catch. He responded that he wasn't sure he would make it. We stopped briefly so I could give him a couple of cherry blossom Honey Stinger energy chews. I reminded him of the first time he asked for a date. I was in Washington, D.C. on assignment for work but also photographically enjoying the cherry blossoms, and he was back home in Colorado. I'd waited nine long months for him to ask me out. And I was more than half a continent away! I couldn't get home fast enough!!! The memories made our cherry blossom gummies taste so much sweeter this beautiful but windy day.

We didn't rest for long at all. He says if he stops too long, he can't get his legs going again. Parkinson's patients describe the feeling as their feet being glued to the floor. We love Waterton Canyon, but we don't want to be glued to the canyon floor.

As we battled the headwind, Lizard recalled the year he was trying to achieve 5,000 bicycle miles, being 76 miles short of his goal on a snowy New Year's Eve. Pedaling up muddy, slick Waterton six consecutive times to reach his magic number.

"I guess we won't be doing that again anytime soon," he said, almost in a whisper. Even the roar of the wind couldn't muffle his ambition.

The wind seemed to have more than doubled. Everyone who passed us commented on its strength. This day's ride was not coming easily for anyone. Lizard had to really dig deep to make it to the top. It was the first time he'd seen the dam since 2018, which was when I first noticed something was medically wrong. I convinced him to get a checkup, and three months later, we learned he had Parkinson's.

Getting to the top this time was glorious! He was hungry, and he was tired, but he'd made it! He'd set a goal and achieved it!

After photos, he enjoyed a Honey Stinger short stack waffle, which I think means maple-flavored. We kind of giggled about how fast the image of the disgraced cyclist who used to be featured on these Colorado snacks disappeared from the packaging back in 2012. I'd bought nearly a case of the nearly $2 waffles in a local grocery store for a dime apiece after the news that rocked the cycling world. We couldn't change what had happened, but we could certainly crinkle up and properly dispose of those ugly wrappers each time we enjoyed an autumn ride the remainder of that year.

The fascinating history of Honey Stinger (from which I am receiving no compensation) began in Pennsylvania but comfortably landed in Steamboat Springs. Ever wonder who came up with the idea of honey in a bear-shaped bottle??? Lizard spent many summers in Steamboat Springs working while staying with his uncle, discovering dirt bikes, and learning to love the outdoors. Steamboat also gets some of the deepest and fluffiest snow in Colorado, and it is called Champagne Powder. We were never drawn for Ride the Rockies on years when the Steamboat Springs loop was featured. Now we might not ever be able to complete another full Ride the Rockies route, but we're learning to dream new dreams and set new goals. We may yet tackle Rabbit Ears Pass via bicycle one day.

Lizard wanted and needed to make a pitstop before headed back down. I offered to hold his pack while he went into the tiny outhouse.

"No, because you'll keep it like you did last time," he responded. I explained I just wanted him to be successful that day, and because we now would be riding downhill, the extra weight shouldn't hinder him. He removed the pack in his Parkinson's-slowed motion and walked to the outhouse door. He opened it and entered, but then came right back out to hand me his sunglasses. A runner who'd just completed the canyon climb assumed Lizard was done and slipped into the tiny structure. Lizard took back his sunglasses and pack and said he'd use the outhouse a couple of miles down the canyon.

As we glided downward, I told Lizard I wanted to take a photo of my odometer when it hit 9.11. Instead of refreshingly coasting down the grade as fast as his bike can roll, Lizard rode slowly with me, and we reminisced about our third date -- a ride up Waterton Canyon and up the first pitch of the Colorado Trail, which then was only my second attempt ever getting that far on the ride. Our third date was Lizard's first ride ever up the canyon.

At the outhouse, Lizard remembered the day, many years ago, when I snapped a snake photo while I waited for him in this very same place. I'm not sure I knew before then snakes can climb trees!!!

My odometer read 8.3. So we drifted slowly down the Narrows until I hit 9.10. We walked our bikes the few feet until the odometer changed. I snapped a couple of quick odometer shots and realized it would be much more meaningful if I could show off my patriotic gear.

I realized in this particular case, having a person in the photo would be a more powerful statement. And memory!

I positioned my bike so Lizard could be the photographer and have his back to the sun. I would be squinting as he took the photo. I've known for a while his hands are not steady enough to operate a camera anymore. I set the shot up with my phone, thinking that might be easier (and I'm certain it was), but the wind kept knocking the bike over, and he had forgotten how to compose a photo. It's been three years! We got a few humorous outtakes.

I thought if the bike fell over one more time, it would read 9.12 instead of 9.11. Which might not have been a bad thing... I think most of us would rather have 9.12 because most of the world was pulling together that day instead of dividing and polarizing. I steadied the bike against Lizard's leg, the front wheel of my bike with my big camera and my full water bottle and showed Lizard how to steady the phone by leaning his elbow on my downtube and how to focus on the odometer instead of me. Six more shots, and we had what was, in my opinion, an award-winning shot!

We talked about the last time we'd taken that many photo of ourselves in Waterton Canyon. It was winter. I'd set the camera up on my backpack and set the self-timer. It took several shots to get just the right framing. I think I used this shot for our Ride the Rockies training page the next year!

We continued on down the Narrows, reveling in the now tailwind. The downhill combined with Mother Nature's extra boost made us both feel we were training for a big ride. I could see our shadows on the canyon wall, and I probably should have snapped another photo. And then the cutest thing happened. A butterfly landed on my back. I could see it on the shadow. I called to Lizard, thinking he could snap another photo for me. But the painted lady quickly found a true source of sustenance.

I snapped a few autumn-type photos the rest of the way down the canyon, and we talked about Lizard's next goal... to make it up to the start of the Colorado Trail. That section is SO steep. It will take a while. But it will be worth it. And it's a great goal!

By the time we got back to our vehicle, the parking lot, which had been nearly empty when we began the ride just after sunrise, was now packed, with vehicles circling like vultures waiting for a space to open. A few people complimented me on my patriotic gear. I realized next year, instead of remembering what happened in 2001, we can celebrate what happened in 2021.

This was a big day for Lizard. May there be many more in the years to come!

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Photograph

This video demonstrates exactly why cameras are one of the most important tools in raising a child.

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A Sweet Tradition

Back when I was a child, my parents would give each of us seven kids a book of Life Savers in our stockings each year. This was back when a book of Life Savers contained 10, and later 8, rolls of individually packaged flavors such as Wild Cherry, Mixed Berries, Tangerine, Butter Rum, Root Beer, Cinn-O-Mon, Cryst-O-Mint, Pep-O-Mint, Spear-O-Mint, and our most favorite... Wint-O-Green.

We would quickly break into the packages and dig out the wintergreen candy, then run to the bathroom and, with the lights out, chew the candy in front of the mirror to watch the sparks. It was a Christmas ritual.


Check out those awesome Life Saver snowflakes!!!
Back then, we could buy a roll of Life Savers for a nickle. I think the book of Life Savers was under a dollar. Remember penny candy??? A whole roll of Life Savers for a nickle was such a good deal, and one roll would last so long! ...Unless it was Wint-O-Green.

It's a scientific marvel called triboluminescence.


Now a roll of Life Savers runs about a buck and a half, if you can find one, and the Life Saver books are anywhere from $3 to a mind-choking $6. But these days, a book of Life Savers contains only the five-flavor rolls, and there are only four rolls in the book. The front section of the book now is a piece of heavy paperboard.


Aaaah, the good old days. I recently got the opportunity to spend time with my adoptive grands, and we decorated Halloween cookies. We might not get another chance to get all three or four families together before Christmas, so I shared a favorite Christmas memory with them at the end of the evening.

I bought two packages of Wint-O-Green Life Savers and had the parents turn out the lights after we had distributed candy to each of the 16 kids. I told them to stand in a circle so we could see each other's mouths, then let their eyes adjust to the (not very dark) darkness, and then we all chewed at the same time. I told them about the sparks we loved to watch as kids.

The kids were SO excited!

But nothing happened.


I hadn't tested it before I went to the cookie-decorating party to see if the magic still works. I felt like a heel.

It was time for everyone to go home, so I gave the rest of the Life Savers to the parents and told the kids to try it at home in their bathrooms, with the lights off, looking in the mirror while whey chewed.

The next night, my phone rang, and two of the kiddos called to elatedly and enthusiastically report that it works! They thanked me again for the cookies and the Life Savers, and they told me again and again how cool it was to watch the blue lightning in the mirror!

It was my first phone call ever from any of my grandkids!!!

I think now I'm going to have to teach all 16 of them to build Life Saver trains!

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