A little backstory. For those of you old enough to remember the
1964 World’s Fair or those who have wandered into the Carousel of Progress in
Disney World will remember this fragment from the ear worm song of the same
name. The Carousel of Progress was one
of four pavilions in the aforementioned World’s Fair that were designed by Walt
Disney. For those too young or deprived
to either remember the ’64 World’s Fair or those who have never stumbled onto
the Carousel of Progress at Disney World but have yet somehow discovered this
blog, the premise was following a typical US family from the 1920’s, the
1930’s, the 1940’s, the 1950’s and “the future” (which in 1964 was anything
past 1970 or so). Two of the innovations
of the exhibit were the first use of audio animatronics figures AND the stages
or vignettes were situated on a fixed circular stage while the outer donut
(containing the audience seating) rotated around revealing one stage after
another. To this day, whenever we visit
Disney World, I insist (with what little authority I have in my family) on
visiting the Carousel of Progress and I sing the theme (see title) along with
the “cast” each time the audience rotates into a new position. I, once again, am transported back to 1964
(and my daughter, who has accompanied me, once again is MORTIFIED).
ANYWAY, what’s this got to do
with a blog ostensibly about flying?
Well, glad you asked; bear with me.
About 8 or so years ago, an acquaintance (older than me) suggested
beginning the process to agree on a retirement location NOW. He said, “The first 40 or so states are
pretty easy to cross off. After that, it
gets harder.” Now, anyone who’s
wondering, “Well, why not just stay put and retire in the Chicago area.” has
OBVIOUSLY never watched the news, or the weather. Let me help.
Chicago is the LAST place you’d want to retire to unless you just love
miserable weather and donating your entire life savings to paying absurd taxes
designed to keep the world’s epicenter of corrupt politicians (and their
families…and their friends) living in the style to which, your earnings have
made them accustomed. So, we did a few
years of extensive due diligence and decided on Fort Collins, Colorado. For those of you reading this with an abstract
mindset, Fort Collins is FABULOUS! Great
weather (300 days of sunshine a year), Taxes about one tenth that of Chicago,
endless outdoor activities and great restaurants and downtown. For those of you who plan to retire in a few
years, it’s terrible, you’d hate it. (No
sense jacking up the cost of living and crapping up Colorado with a horde of
Chicagoans.)
After 37 years working as an
engineer at UL, life tends to blur into the same “go-to loop”; wake up, go to
work, come home, eat dinner, watch a little TV, read a book, repeat…for 37
years. Now, we’re looking forward to
retirement with no small degree of trepidation since it will be very different
from the “go-to loop” that we are used to.
Like Socrates allegory of the person emerging from the cave, it’s a
little scary. A few weeks ago, we flew,
once again, to Fort Collins, Colorado and came back firmly believing that,
“There’s a great big beautiful tomorrow…” waiting for us there.
We lifted off from Waukegan
airport at 4:00 in the morning into a dark gray, low overcast. After climbing through about 5,000 feet of
clouds, we emerged into crystal clear skies on top with the orange glow of the
sunrise behind us. Three hours later, we
landed at Omaha, Nebraska, our half way point.
After gassing up, “freshening up” (a euphemism for peeing) getting a
weather brief and filing our flight plan, we were off again. Again, we climbed on top of now broken clouds
and three hours later saw the Rocky Mountains in our windscreen. We landed at Fort Collins and while one
lineman guided us into our tie down spot, another pulled our rental car up to
meet us and insisted on unloading our luggage.
We immediately went into town and made a beeline for Coopersmiths for
a:
Devils Backbone Buffalo Burger
One-third pound, ranch-raised buffalo
burger charbroiled and then topped with a garlic portabella mushroom sauce and
mozzarella cheese served with pub chips.
AND a big, might I say, well
deserved, mug of Horsetooth Stout.
Now, a little backstory: Colorado in general and Fort Collins in
particular has a beer problem. There are
161 breweries in Colorado and 17 in Fort Collins. Obviously then, there is a glut, a veritable
overabundance of beer in Fort Collins and I feel, as a future resident, I OWE
it to them to try to help them out of this predicament. Besides, the FAA “8 hour bottle to throttle”
requirement is completely silent on the “throttle to bottle” side of the
equation.
That afternoon, we reacquainted
ourselves on what caused us to fall in love with Fort Collins originally;
strolling the town and the shops, luxuriating in the crystal clear skies and
bright sunshine.
The next morning, we returned to
the airport and launched for Rapid City, South Dakota intent on seeing Mount
Rushmore. My initial thoughts were that
we would fly past Mount Rushmore itself before landing but, a re-read of the
FAA (inveterate party poopers) regulations and facts about Mount Rushmore
itself, quashed those thoughts.
The FAA:
b. Pilots are
requested to maintain a minimum altitude of 2,000 feet above the surface of the
following: National Parks, Monuments, Seashores, Lakeshores, Recreation Areas
and Scenic Riverways administered by the National Park Service, National
Wildlife Refuges, Big Game Refuges, Game Ranges and Wildlife Ranges
administered by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and Wilderness and
Primitive areas administered by the U.S. Forest Service.
(In FAA parlance, the term
“requested” means, “…or we’ll take away your pilot’s license and the only time
you’ll ever fly again is if an errant eagle grabs you by the ass”. In fact, if you read the entire (3 inch
thick) Federal Aviation Regulations and Airman Information Manual (FAR AIM),
you’ll find the only place you’re actually allowed to fly is over your own
house... once).
Additionally, “North by
Northwest” aside, the faces of Mount Rushmore are only 60 feet high. From 2,000 feet, you’d be lucky to even find
them.
So, we flew from Fort Collins, to
Rapid City. People that haven’t
travelled outside of Chicago would be shocked to discover how much of the US is
completely devoid of any signs that humans had ever set foot. Once we passed Cheyenne, Wyoming, we flew
over endless miles and miles of nothing but rock outcropping and high
plains. Suddenly, we reached Rapid City,
landed and drove into Keystone, South Dakota.
Keystone itself is a caricature of an old west town. We had a great lunch at Ruby’s, authentically
patterned after an old west saloon (though Ruby’s itself, was built in 2004).
Reinforced with lunch, it was on
to the main attraction:
Even though only 60 feet high,
being here, at this place, an image that we’ve grown up seeing in pictures and
books was an indescribable experience; breathtaking. This is a wonderful National Park and between
the hiking trails, the museum, the sculptor’s studio and the visitor’s center,
you can easily spend several hours, and we did.
Then, back to Keystone to buy the requisite tee shirts and made in China
tourist crap. Back to the airport; off
the ground and two hours later, back in Fort Collins.
A WONDERFUL dinner at one of the
many fine dining establishments in Old Town; again, throttle to bottle –
undefined.
The next morning we had lunch
with our great friends John and Stella who epitomize the veracity that there is
life after retirement. Next time we see you, we’ll be similarly footloose and
fancy free. Later that afternoon, we
drove up to Cheyenne for Frontier Days, the largest rodeo in the US. We strolled the endless shops and booths and
perused the make believe cowboys and their companions in Daisy Duke shorts and
push up bras. That night, we enjoyed a John
Mellencamp concert and drove home. (For
the record, we did consider avoiding the traffic by flying to the Cheyenne airport,
which is a short walk from the rodeo grounds but the airport closes before the
concert was due to end and they would have charged a $50 call out fee as ransom
to get our plane back.)
Sunday morning, 4 AM we were in
the air this time flying into the sunrise.
A WONDERFUL trip. The next time we see Fort Collins, it’ll be
with a whole different mindset. And
we’ll see you soon!
