So, where the hell have we been?

The majesty of the Rocky Mountains surrounds and captivates us all.

Fair question.  As it turns out, I’m composing this quick missive from a secret outpost deep in the woods of Oregon where grass fed beef and kale and multiple rounds of a particularly aggressive IPA are coming at me from all angles.

It’s hell, and I may have to stay for a while.

Oregon, you say, but weren’t you guys last at a wedding in Jackson, Wyoming?

Well, we were.

But then I went to New York for a week to run some real life errands while Val stayed out in Wyoming with her mom to roam the mountains, and we subsequently re-convened in Salt Lake City and rested up at Matt and Tracey’s very comfortable Bed & Breakfast in Draper (which included not only an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, but a test drive of the gorgeous new BMW R NINE T).

Matt, his son Ethan, and the girls about to get Medieval on a bunch of geodes that Tracey identified while on a hike.

Sifting through the bits and pieces to find the keepers.

Leonie displaying some crystals.

From there, the Bugs migrated East to Dinosaur National Monument in Utah and camped out for a few days while pretending to be a family of Allosaurs.  During our stay, Val made contact with Bobby Lee and his lovely wife Dianne, whom we had last seen in Los Barriles and were now themselves at Bobby’s cabin north of Steamboat, Colorado.

Silvosaurus Rex shows how she has learned to attack prey from above.

Scientists believe that this is the skull of an early securitization banker.

Recreation of the Leonodoticus stalking its preferred prey, hot dogs roasted on sticks.

Anxious to reconnect with them, we struck camp and and made the pilgrimage to Steamboat for some high altitude training, and also some high altitude cocktails.

We had just a terrific time, and the opportunity to reconnect with them (and for the girls to spend a week running their poor collie, Dezzy, to the point of exhaustion) among the aspen groves and mountain glades was a special treat for all of us.  Bobby even took it upon himself to impart various life skills to me, and I can now credibly say that I know how to use a compound bow.  Let the Hunger Games begin.

Los Barriles class of 2014 reunion, minus, of course, the desert

Seen here, couple most likely to succeed

You can see why the little cabin in the woods is so restorative. I’ve never seen so many aspens, so densely packed.

Hey Leonie, he asked, what are you doing with that kennel? And where is your sister?

Ah… Right. Well, maybe just stop rolling the crate end over end.

Interior of the Man Room in the cabin. Fish, dogs, and pictures of just about every Olympic boxer for the past couple decades.

Bobby decided at one point that the girls should go native, so put some war paint on Sylvie and gave her a rifle.

And, here is my six year old running around in the woods with a BB gun, stalking elk.

She took to it in a hurry, so all large game animals can consider this fair warning.

Pictured here is a man who can kill you with his bare hands, and standing next to him is Mike Tyson.

The girls never tired of sightseeing expeditions on Bobby’s quad.

I never got tired of the trees.

A tough goodbye, but we’ll track down Bobby and Dianne again some day soon. Baja? Colorado? Who knows.

Pondering our next move, Bobby insisted we get ourselves to Rocky Mountain National Park, so we did and explored it for the next five days, waking up every morning and literally having to chase the elk and moose out of our campsite before breakfast.

Basically, we spent a week camping next to these guys. They kept their distance, generally, and I suspect they could smell the elk sausage still on my breath from Dennis’ wedding.

Just highlighting the proximity of the elk.

Actually, this does a better job of highlighting the proximity. She went right for the espresso pot.

So, let’s take the kids hiking to see some wildlife. Or at least, the wildlife not living next to our tent.

Don Puerco, our Mexican road pig, seen here on a hike in the Rockies with Starla.

Sylvie spotted something moving in the scrub by the river.

Which was this eight hundred pound moose.

Ladies on a stroll, enjoying each others’ company.

Had to snap this photo, for obvious reasons.

Both girls regretted not having skis with them. In June.

Taking this moment to commune deeply with nature.

Ladies literally on top of the world.

Look! It’s the lovely Von Trapp children!

The joy of the alpine meadow.

Not quite done with mountain living yet, we made our way west again and enjoyed a temporary home above the rather magnificent garage that friends of ours have in Aspen.  We had a terrific time there, and I also treated myself to a proper haircut in advance of a grownup meeting I had in San Francisco scheduled for the second week in July.

From there, we made our way to just outside Grand Junction in order to drop by and visit with fellow Baja traveler Ace, who graciously hosted us for an evening, and we reminisced about our journey and swapped photos while the girls did their level best to train his newest travel companion.  A hugely successful visit.

The ladies enjoy a sun-dappled breakfast in Aspen with new pals Lila and Louisa.

While roguishly handsome in a rugged, pilose way, not exactly a look that says “hire me”. It mostly says “don’t smell me”.

But who can this rakish Lothario be? I don’t know, but that expertly coiffed hair and trimmed beard says, “Employee of the Week”.

Aspen was hell. Hell, I tell you.

This is Ace’s new travel companion.

She’s not exactly trained up, but the girls were game to try.

The whole team cavorting on the lawn.

I then took myself and my haircut across Utah (we have driven across that state about six times in the past month) to Great Basin National Park in Nevada, where we camped in the mountains for a few days before making our second Los Barriles connection in as many weeks: we drove to Reno in a day and found ourselves staring at the lovely 1946 silver Chevrolet bus repurposed by Julie and Marshall as their retirement home.

We spent the next few days lazing about with them, enjoying their hospitality and Marshall’s determination to act as a tour guide, and even watched him participate in the Truckee July 4th Parade.  We would have seen the fireworks in Reno that night, too, except that Val missed the writing on the bottle that said “100 proof” when she was mixing up a pitcher of Bloody Marys for us earlier in the day, and Marshall and I found ourselves taking unplanned but deep naps by mid-afternoon, which lasted about twelve hours each.  Thus, no fireworks.

Sylvie on the high trails at Great Basin.

We spotted this really odd knot in an Aspen just off the trail, which meant that the girls immediately needed to climb the tree and sit on it.

Harder than it looks, Leonie took a bunch of attempts and a couple of ugly spills before she got a hold.

She made it, but the emotional cost was huge.

Next up, Sylvie, and Leonie dried her tears and immediately helped her little sister up the beast.

Glacial lake at Great Basin.

Dad, relaxing at camp.

Inside the caves.

The Rangers had a neat program where the kids got to build a log cabin.

Of course, I couldn’t help myself and immediately hoarded a bunch of pieces and built my own cabin.

Reno has pools, and dogs, and tennis balls, and dogs that jump into pools to get tennis balls. A hit.

Val and Julie, Leonie and Sylvie, waiting to wish America a Happy Birthday.

They wanted a better view. My back hurt for weeks.

Did Will Ferrel come to the Truckee Fourth of July parade? You be the judge.

Our little patriot, Sylvie, showing off her new headgear.

Then, on to San Francisco, where we suddenly became urban, if not urbane.  I pulled a suit out of a cardboard box and met with some folks about a horse, and as a family we camped out in the very comfortable house of a close friend in the sunny hills of Marin.

Potrero Hill, San Francisco – it’s something like a 20% grade. My roommate from college, Matt, is basically keeping the kids from sliding off the hood of Red Beauty.

We even managed to make our third Los Barriles reunion, joining friends Jenny and Joe on their absolutely magnificent, repurposed tug boat (which is really more like a floating boutique hotel) for margaritas and a long, lazy dinner while the sun set over Sausilito harbor.

We spent the better part of two weeks in San Francisco, bouncing between friends (my college roommate lives there, and close friends of ours from Brooklyn have relocated to San Jose) and exploring the shangri-la that is the West Coast: mountains plunging into the Pacific, avocados ripening in the back yard, proximity to the Lagunitas Brewery, harvesting lemons from the trees outside to make fresh lemonade, a complimentary cereal bar for kids at the local farmers’ market, you name it.

How to tell when you’re in California: Exhibit A

If ever we felt tempted to de-Brooklyn ourselves for keeps, the Bay Area is now officially in the running.

The good news is that housing is really cheap.

Ha, ha.

But we couldn’t occupy our friends’ house forever (well, arguably, we could, but they would probably have strong feelings about it) so, with so much of our next move shaded by life’s colorful uncertainties, we figured what the heck and drove north to properly reconnect with Feral, Stephanie, Abbie, and the ChiWiener.

Up at dawn and off we went, leaving commuter traffic behind and piloting Red Beauty through glorious, solemn stands of redwoods, dipping down to the coast, and then back into the mountains and suddenly piling out of the truck to throw our collective arms around Stephanie and Feral.

And so here we are, more or less off the grid, in the company of good friends, bouncing like fools on Abbie’s trampoline, planning excursions to the local swimming hole, and waiting for a few not insignificant pieces of our lives to fall into place before we figure out what’s next for these bugs.