I met Kevin on our club drive over Trail Ridge Road. We were parked together at the Alpine Visitors Center and again at our next stop. He has an Elise, but that day he was driving his freshly purchased orange 2015 McLaren 650S Spider. As you might guess, his car was the center of attention everywhere we went.
It’s natural to assume that anybody driving a McLaren is going to field a bunch of questions about the car. And it’s not much of a stretch to think that a guy wearing a race track hat and with numbers on his car might find himself in a conversation about track days. So, naturally, the topic of Kevin taking the McLaren to the track came up. And, of course, I had to ask if I could drive it.
Before long, it was all arranged.
Thursday, July 22
I like these Thursday evening sessions. The heat of the day is over, and there aren’t as many cars as usual. Generally, the first hour is broken into fast and slow groups, with the rest of the evening open for everybody. You can run in the dark if you’re hardcore, and there’s always the chance of showers.
Kevin and his wife, Erin, were gassing up when I arrived. We picked our spot in the paddock, trying to have enough room for four cars. It was Kevin and Erin, myself, Scott (Elise), and his friend (BMW M2). We got checked in, then attended the drivers meeting.
I reminded Kevin that I’m not an instructor, but that I’m happy to give him some tips. We agreed that the best sequence would be for him to ride with me in the Elise, then I ride with him, then I drive his car.
With Kevin as passenger, we did an out lap, then four full laps, then an in lap. This is Kevin’s first time on a track, so when he got behind the wheel, he’d only really only been on track for four laps. And he’s only had the car for a short while, and there’s no place on the streets to really drive the car. So he was facing a daunting task. Add to that, my lack of awareness: I didn’t think to make sure he had all the drivers aids enabled.
Let’s just say his first few laps were difficult.
I’ve never had any instruction on the track. And when I visit new tracks, I like to figure them out on my own. At Portland International, I had an instructor for a session, more of a navigator, really, and again for a few laps at COTA. There wasn’t a lot of communication – with the engine right behind my head, with a helmet on, and a case of tinnitus, I can’t hear anything the passenger might be saying. So it’s down to hand signals. With only 15 or 20 laps of this sort of thing, I really don’t know what I’m doing.
I was not giving him any help at all for his first couple of laps. I wasn’t really sure what to do. But after a while I got comfortable. The first signal I needed was to brake: I held my hand out, palm down, and pushed down. I don’t know if that’s generally the signal, but he understood immediately. I quickly had four or five signals and none were misunderstood. All right! I’m helping!
The big thing, though, for his first session behind the wheel was that he had disabled some of the aids. That unnecessarily added to his difficulties. He was facing a steep enough learning curve as it was. He turned them all back on at the end of that first session.
I faced a bit of a learning curve myself. As a passenger, I got a sense of the power of the car, and felt the braking. But it’s not the same as driving. We had it in automatic mode, so all I needed to do was brake and steer, but that was plenty. Starting it wasn’t a problem, but Kevin had to put it in drive for me, as I couldn’t figure it out on my own.
I think, given my experience, if I had a couple of full days with this car, I could drive it fast with some of the aids turned off. I think.
I didn’t go where it says I went…
“Face cam” view. 137mph
High Clutch Temperature
It’s quite a machine. At 650hp, it’s the most powerful car I’ve driven. It’s almost three and a half times the horsepower of the Elise. On the other hand, it weighs over fifty percent more than the Elise. Still, it has a much higher power-to-weight ratio than the Elise. It’s on bigger, softer tires, it has bigger brakes, and active aero. We drove it with the top down.
You put your right foot down and the car just launches out of the corners. We hit 137 on the highway straight. That’s 25mph faster than I’ve done in the Elise. I managed to go at least 10mph faster on all of the straight bits of track.
I felt challenged by the braking and cornering. The Elise is very light. Even the two cheap race cars I drove were pretty light. The McLaren felt very heavy to me. I’m not sure how often the computers stopped me from doing bad things, but I don’t think it was often. A few times, I felt a bit of delay on the throttle exiting turns, but I didn’t really feel the sorts of things I felt when I was a passenger in the Ferrari 458. Nothing obtrusive.
In the Elise, I use a CG lock on the seatbelt. Without it, I’d move around quite a bit more. The McLaren just has regular seat belts. I felt secure in the seat and didn’t move around at all.
Visibility was pretty good. Or, at least, not any worse than the Elise. Except in one case: under heavy braking. The rear wing pops up as an air brake. It fills the rear-view mirror. I never did get used to it. I kind of like knowing where any following cars are when I’m hard on the brakes.
Somewhere around here, I’d give you my lap time. But I don’t have a lap time.
And I don’t have a video.
I ran the lap timer with the phone in my pocket. I’ve done that a number of times before and not had any issues. But today the GPS track it recorded is not anywhere near where I drove. It was fine in my car, mounted to the dash, but miserable in my pocket.
As to the video, I took a suction cup mount that I had in a drawer. I exercised it the night before, but when I went to put it on his car, it broke. I had a backup plan, though. I had also found a curved adhesive mount and stuck it on my helmet. I didn’t want to put it on the vinyl, so I put it below my visor. It was out of my sight, which was good. But it was facing too low. All I got was ten minutes of the steering wheel, dashboard, and my arms and lap. Not exactly compelling viewing.
I will recount two notable incidents.
When I exited the track the first time in his car, the track manager, Glen, motioned me to stop. “You crossed the commit line.” This is a major foul. There’s a white line separating the track from the pit exit. You’re not to cross this line. I was certain I didn’t cross it. “Yes, you did. I just got a call from the corner worker.”
After we parked, I went to talk to Glen. “I don’t want to argue, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t cross the line.” He repeated that the corner worker reported me; it was not Kevin. “I can show it to you on the video.” Please do. He rewound the footage, found the McLaren, ran it a couple of times over. “You are correct. You did not cross the line.” Vindicated!
My second time in the McLaren, I finally put together a nice lap. I don’t know how nice a lap it was, sadly, but it felt good. The previous lap I missed my braking point going in to turn 4, the fastest place on the track, and ran quite wide. For a while I was thinking I wouldn’t keep it on the track, but in the end I had six inches to spare. But that’s not the second notable incident.
The lap after my nice lap, the car felt quite sluggish under acceleration. On the long straight, we only got up to 100. Then I saw the warning: “High Clutch Temperature”. A few turns later, we were definitely in limp mode, unable to top 35.
“Sorry I broke your car!”
By the time we parked, the warning was off and all was well again. I believe Kevin did get the same thing later in the evening. It doesn’t seem right to me that it would overheat like that so quickly, but perhaps it’s partly to do with the mode we were operating the car in. I really don’t know anything about it. There are two selectors with three or four positions in each. Perhaps we were using a combination that wasn’t expected on the track.
In addition to me giving him a ride in the Elise and attempting to give him hand signals when he was driving, we tried to do two lead/follow sessions. The idea was, he’d try to follow my line through the turns but not pass me on the straights. I had it in my mind that I’d go slow. But I didn’t go slow enough. I’ve seen enough first timers on track to know they’re going to be slower than me. Maybe much slower. I didn’t account enough for that.
As well, we had to deal with traffic. A couple of times, cars that Kevin would wave by wouldn’t pass me. So we got separated a few times. And for one of these sessions, I was giving Erin a ride. After I got a certain distance ahead of Kevin, I put my foot down and turned my fastest lap of the day. Gotta show off for the passenger, right?
Normally up at the start of these reports, I give an inventory of the cars in attendance. I didn’t wander around and talk to any of the other drivers. This time, it was all about the McLaren.
I seem to randomly get invited to these things. Didn’t get invited last year when I spent money in their shop, did get invited this year but haven’t spent a nickel there in eighteen months. So it was very nice of them to include me. I’m a big fan of free track days, and even though I can’t tell any of the Ferraris apart, it’s pretty cool to see so many of them in the paddock.
I was told the car count was forty or forty-two. Eight were Lotus, unless I miscounted. I saw an Audi in the paddock but don’t know if he went on the track. There were four or five Porsches, two of which I saw on the track. And I think all the rest were Ferraris. And there were some Ferraris there that didn’t go on the track for a total of maybe three dozen.
I get a real ego stroke from these Ferrari track days. Totally undeserved, but prideful nonetheless.
Somehow, the car still gets admiring looks, even in this crowd, even with all the wear and tear of nearly 90,000 miles and 50ish track days. I’m starting to call her a “thirty footer”: looks best from thirty feet away. Most people tell me it’s great that I drive it so much. In this crowd, I felt I had to point out that my car had nothing theirs had: not a stitch of leather, no cup holders, no radio, no air conditioning, no cruise control, no traction control, no horsepower. And on hard tires.
At the drivers meeting there was a show of hands: about half the drivers hadn’t driven on a track before. That’s pretty normal for this crowd. We’d have novice and experienced groups for the first hour, but all afternoon would be open track. So I’d be out there with the guys that don’t know how slow they are. I try to keep in mind how slow I was my first time, and that there’s a bit of sensory overload, but it does annoy me when they don’t pay attention to their mirrors.
I am reminded of that scene in The Gumball Rally when Raúl Juliá says, “The first rule of Italian driving is, what’s behind me is not important.” Whereupon he throws his rear-view mirror out of the car.
Let’s break the Ferrari guys into groups. The first group are the few who are in over their heads. Totally clueless. They’re the ones not looking in the mirror. I wonder how they managed the lead/follow session. They should start by taking a ride with an instructor. They do a few laps but leave as slow as they arrived. They’re big fans of hauling ass down the straights but take the turns twenty or thirty miles an hour slower than I do. I’m guessing they’re one and done so far as track days go.
The second group are slow, but they’re trying. They’re paying attention. Today there were more of these than the first group. Two of them caught my attention. I was somewhat faster than they were. They’d easily pull me on the straights, but I made up more time than that in the corners. Each one pointed me by and slowed to get behind me. Each was able to keep up, and after a couple of laps behind me, they were better in the turns. That gave me a warm fuzzy.
In one session, I reeled in three of them, one after the other. I’d have them in my sights for a lap and a half or so, and when I’d get close enough I might pass them in another lap, they pulled into the pits. My enormous ego wants to believe they saw me coming and didn’t want to get passed by an Elise.
The third group had spent some time at the track. One chap I talked to used to have a Lemons team. One yellow Porsche sported numbers on his doors, one Ferrari was trailered in. I think every Ferrari and Porsche there was capable of a sub-two-minute lap. I don’t know that anybody did one, but there were a few that were close.
I gave rides to all who asked, which amounted to two of my Lotus brethren. Nobody got sick, and they seemed to enjoy it, so that’s good.
As the day wore on, more and more people told me they were impressed with my speed. An ego stroke, for sure. But given the experience difference, I think it’s a bit like playing basketball with a bunch of sixth graders. I’d be a dominant player, no matter how expensive the kids’ shoes are.
When not on the track, I struck up a few conversations. Any Ferrari driver I talked to for more than a few minutes, I asked if I could take their cars out for a few laps. Nobody laughed, and nobody told me to fuck off. But I didn’t get any takers. I figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. Heck, I’ve been asking to drive strangers’ formula cars for years now. (Not that I’ve had success there, either. One guy said he’d be happy to let me drive his formula car, but he died before we got it arranged.)
Somehow, my lap timer app failed to record any of the OBDII data. Somehow, the phone wasn’t paired with the dongle. I paired them, and the settings look correct, but I didn’t get any data. Also, on my third run, I failed to get the forward facing camera started. If that’s the worst operator error of the day, it’s a good day.
I had a great time hanging with the one-percenters. I had a blast on the track. My gracious hosts fed me lunch and kept me hydrated. I spent some time with people who share one of my passions. We couldn’t have asked for better weather. What’s not to like?
I think this is the sixth time I’ve visited Andrews Tarn, most of those back in the 1980s. The first two visits, we hiked a loop: up Flattop Mtn, along the divide, and down the glacier. Back then, the foot of the glacier was in the tarn, rising perhaps eight or ten feet above the water. My previous visit was back in 2007 and I was disappointed to see how far the glacier retreated. Today, there’s still snow on the ground between the glacier and the tarn, so I couldn’t tell how much smaller the glacier is now than it was forty years ago.
This is my first experience with the timed entry passes for the Bear Lake corridor. A permit is now required if you want to go to any destination on Bear Lake Road. The passes begin at 5 am and the last time slot available is 4 pm. For my purposes, only the 5 am and 7 am time slots will work. When I arrived at the entrance station, a few minutes before 8, they had all but one lake closed with traffic cones. And there was nobody in the booth. A few yards up Bear Lake Road they check your permit and give you a permit. They said, “Put this on your dashboard” but it has a post-it note sort of adhesive and it looked like most folks stuck it on their windshields as I did.
Unless I’m in the park well before 7, I don’t bother trying to park in either the Glacier Gorge or Bear Lake parking lots. I pulled into the park and ride to see quite a long line waiting for the shuttle bus. Face masks are required on the shuttle. If you don’t have one, they’ll give you one. The driver’s area is closed off to the rest of the bus, so everybody boards and exits through the back door. (Not really a back door, but you know what I mean.)
The Foster guide says 4.6 miles and a vertical climb of 2,200′ to the tarn.
Follow the crowd to the Loch and keep going up the trail to Sky Pond. At about three-quarters of a mile after reaching the Loch the trail crosses Andrews Creek. If I didn’t know there was a trail here, I wouldn’t have seen it. There’s a sign on the south side of the trail, but it was in dark shade. And the first few yards of the trail to Andrews is solid rock.
At this point we’re about three-quarters of the way there but we’ve only climbed a bit more than half the total: the last mile climbs a thousand feet.
The trail climbs on the west side of Andrews Creek. The trail bends slightly to head due north. Fairly quickly you arrive at the Andrews Creek campsite. It’s off to the right; the trail continues to the left, now going pretty much due west. Not long after that, you leave the forest to find in front of you a canyon full of talus. On the right, the north, is the eastern arm of Otis Peak, towering twelve or thirteen hundred feet above the trail.
The trail now alternates between a crude trail and sections of rock-hopping across the talus. It seemed like there was a small cairn every few yards, which seemed excessive. By now we’re well over ten thousand feet, and the one-in-five climb is starting to take its toll. I figured I have all day – it’s not a long hike, and I got a fairly early start. I took several breaks.
At one breather, I chatted with a hiker who caught up to me. He had a slight accent. I asked where he was from. “It’s complicated. I’m from France, but I’ve been in Denver since the pandemic. But I live in New York, and I hope to be back there soon.” He didn’t spend much time at the lake – he passed me on his way down before I even made it up there.
The last seven or eight hundred feet before the top climbs almost straight up, between a large snowfield and a clump of trees clinging to the top of a rock outcropping. The footing is less than ideal in places.
When I topped the crest, I knew why the French guy didn’t stay long: it was quite windy. Andrews Tarn is pretty stark. A little halo of tundra arcing around the outlet, talus everywhere else except the western shore, which is snow. Here, years ago, I watched a skier come to a stop at the brink, just a few feet short of a ten-foot drop into the drink. Today it’s just snow. The glacier has retreated quite far up the hillside.
Andrews Tarn beneath Otis Peak
I emulated my French friend and left after just a few minutes. The wind was relentless and there is no shelter here. I headed back down to just a bit above where the trail crosses the creek for the last time, just below the snowfield. There’s a large boulder here, perhaps twenty feet across. Part of the creek is running underneath it, undermining it. I wonder how often it moves. Does it shift a couple of inches every now and then?
Andrews Glacier
Sharkstooth
I heard the barking of marmots at the lake but didn’t hear them here. I was fairly close to the water, so I’d only hear things in my immediate vicinity. I saw a pika. I spotted him three times, each time a few yards farther away. He never came back. Although I was bothered by mosquitoes in the forest, there were none here. Very few insects at all.
After my pleasant picnic I headed back. It seemed that, at every patch of talus, I’d manage to lose the trail. I didn’t see nearly as many carins on the way down as I recalled on the way up. Maybe there should have been more! I find it’s generally pretty easy to spot the trail when you’re above it, and it was never really out of my sight. It’s just that there often seemed no obvious way through the talus. I didn’t have any difficulty on the way up.
Back in the forest, the creek (or part of the creek, actually) enters a small pool. It’s fairly deep, but the water is moving quite quickly at the surface. It’ll never be mirror-smooth. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but the water looks to have just the slightest tint of that turquoise you often see in glacial melt. I refilled my water bottle near here. Fantastic!
I took a final break just a few yards above the junction with the trail to Sky Pond. In the four hours since I was here in the morning, I encountered ten or twelve other hikers. My break here was only about fifteen minutes and I saw about twice that many people on the Sky Pond trail. It just reinforces how much I like getting on the less well-traveled trails.
I made it back to the shuttle bus at about 3 pm.
This hike kicked my ass. I can’t recall the last time I thought a sub ten mile hike was difficult. I know this trail kicked my ass the last time I was here. That was 2007, when I was twenty or twenty-five pounds heavier and living in Phoenix, not acclimated to altitude. I have no excuses this time. I’m typing this up two days later and my legs are still sore.
Seems like I’ve missed the last few club drives for one reason (excuse?) or another. I enjoy going on the club drives for a few reasons. One of the main reasons is that we’re often driving routes that include some time on roads I’m not familiar with.
This time, though, we took a route that is quite familiar to me. My typical modus operandi when I hike on the west side of RMNP is to take I-70 west to US 40, cross Berthoud Pass, cruise through Winter Park, Fraser, and Granby, and from there catching US 34 through Grand Lake and into the park. After my hike, I typically take Trail Ridge Road into Estes Park, then head home on US 36. Today’s route was exactly this, but in reverse. Nothing new here for me to see.
But it’s always a pleasure to meet up with a group of folks with whom I share a passion. And, besides, my annual park pass has expired and I need to get a new one. And, finally, this would be my first chance to get a glimpse of the damage done by the East Troublesome wildfire that blew through the Park late last summer.
We met at the Safeway gas station in Estes Park early enough that we didn’t need any timed entry passes for the day. Which meant we needed to be through the entrance station by 9am. I’m typically in the Park and on the trail by 7 or 7:30, so I didn’t really have any idea how many people are trying to get in at about 8:30. It turns out it was a good thing we left our assembly point a few minutes earlier than planned: the line was already quite long, about half way from the entrance station to the Beaver Meadows visitor center.
It was a long wait. I didn’t time it, but I’m sure it was 20 or 30 minutes. This proved to be an uncomfortable wait for some visitors. A few cars in front of me was a family in an SUV. At one point, the father got out of the car and helped his son. The son, about 4 years old and still in his pajamas, really, really, really needed to pee. Dad got him a few feet off the road where he dropped trou and let fly. Like a firehose. I’ve never seen anybody pee such a great distance. I’m sure he was quite relieved!
Once we were into the Park and moving again, I don’t think we topped 25mph on our way to the Alpine Visitor Center. I’m not sure the timed entry passes are keeping visitors out of the Park. Everybody knows when access is restricted, so they (like us) just planned to get there before a pass was necessary. All the parking areas along Trail Ridge Road were pretty full. I was concerned that we wouldn’t be able to park our more-than-a-dozen cars. My concern was unfounded: there was still plenty of parking available.
Our planned photo stop was at a small dirt parking lot at Beaver Ponds picnic area. It’s just big enough to get all our cars into, assuming there’s nobody else already there. We were in luck: there were only a couple of cars there. The kids who were there were much more interested in looking at our cars (and asking lots of questions) than they were in the beautiful natural scenery.
From this stop to the entrance station, I was quite curious to see the fire damage. The main problem I had was that I was driving. As such, I’m pretty much required to keep my eyes on the road. So I just held the camera one-handed out the window or over my head, pointed it more or less in the direction of whatever I wanted to see, and snapped away. I shot a couple of dozen pictures this way. The combination of my inability to compose a shot and moving at something like 50mph makes for less than stellar pictures. But some were interesting nonetheless.
One of the things that struck me was the number of trees that were broken eight or ten or twelve feet above the ground and all facing in the same direction. I’ve hiked many times through burn scars and have never seen anything like it before. Typically, these dead tree trunks just topple over, lifting a disk of roots with them. I’ve only seen tree trunks snapped off above the ground by avalanches. In those cases, I’m thinking the trunks are snapped off six feet above the ground because there was six feet of snow on the ground when the avalanche struck.
Here, I can only think the wind must have been the agent. Why else would all the downed trunks face the same direction? And it wasn’t just in one spot – I saw this several times along those few miles of road. True, the trunks aren’t always snapped off. Quite often the trees are just bent over with the tops touching the ground. I find it very interesting.
Our next stop was lunch in Winter Park, at the Winter Park Pub. They had cordoned off most of their parking lot for us and we basically occupied all their outdoor seating. I couldn’t help but be amused that they pretty much were out of everything I wanted to order. I’d have loved to have had iced tea, the turkey avocado bacon sandwich, and onion rings. Before ordering, I changed my mind and decided on fries instead of rings. In the end, I had diet Pepsi (“Sorry, we don’t have any iced tea.”), and substituted chicken for turkey on the sandwich (“We’re out of turkey”). Kevin ordered onion rings, but they were out of those, too. I can’t help but wonder what they’d be out of by dinner time.
There were quite a few people on this drive who I hadn’t met before. I generally try to introduce myself to anybody I haven’t met before but somehow managed to sit at a table with folks I’ve known for quite some time. I’ll have to try harder next time to mingle. These drives aren’t just about the cars and the roads: it’s the people who make it all worthwhile.
Lunch was the end of the organized portion of the drive. From Winter Park, we were all on our own to get home. The only real effect this had was that, rather than keeping together in a tight group, we got spread out over the countryside. Most of us were still more or less together over Berthoud Pass, and I wasn’t on my own until I was just a few miles from home.
After a bit of map study, I came across the James Peak Wilderness. There’s a trailhead at the eastern portal of the Moffat Tunnel. From that trailhead, in about five day-hikes, it should be possible to visit more than a dozen named lakes all above 10,500′. Each of these hikes will take you to two or three lakes.
A couple of years ago, I failed to reach Bluebird Lake in early July because of the amount of snow on the ground. So in mid-June, I should expect to find a fair amount of snow as low as 10,000′. The only one of these five day hikes that doesn’t top 11,000′ is the one to Forest Lakes. The lower, smaller lake sits at about 10,675′ and the larger, upper lake at 10,850′. ProTrails lists this hike as “moderate” while AllTrails says it’s “hard”.
I’ve never hiked in this area before, so I have no idea how crowded the trails are. None of these hikes are longer than ten miles, so they’re not very long. A few of them climb 2,000′ from the trailhead. ProTrails says “The Forest Lakes are part of a heavily used trail system and very popular among anglers. Arrive early to secure parking and avoid crowds.” From Google’s satellite image, the parking lot doesn’t look too big, so how early is early? I set a 7 am target. We were only a few minutes behind schedule and managed to put boots on the trail at 7:20.
The trail skirts the entrance of the tunnel and quickly meets South Boulder Creek, which it then parallels for a bit less than a mile. Half an hour after we began, we reached the Forest Lakes trail junction. The next section of trail, from this junction to a bridge over Arapaho Creek is wide, perhaps wide enough to drive a jeep on, and of an almost constant grade.
The bridge over Arapho Creek has seen better days. It’s a couple of split logs with a railing, but half the railing is gone. The creek carries the combined outflow of Forest Lakes and Arapaho Lakes. Right now it is running robustly, overflowing onto the trail. Stepping onto the bridge, I grabbed the post that formerly held the missing railing. I didn’t put any weight on it but used it only for balance. This is good, as it’s not exactly secure.
When planning this hike, as I said, I was expecting to be hiking over some snow. My guess as to how much snow we’d see was a bit off. This bridge is at about 9,800′ and this is where we started dealing with snow. There were isolated patches of snow almost as low as the trailhead, but those were small, isolated, and not on the trail. From now on it became more challenging to follow the trail, as it quickly became totally buried. The parts of the trail that weren’t covered with snow were rivers of snowmelt. Before long, we weren’t so much following a trail as previous hikers’ footprints.
In planning our little trek, I found conflicting information about the trails. Some maps indicate there are two trails to Forest Lakes while others only have one. About a quarter of a mile after the bridge I was expecting to find a junction with the trail to Arapaho Lakes. That trail continues along the creek to the confluence of the outlet stream from Forest Lakes. Here, maybe, there’s another junction; another route to Forest Lakes.
Bridge over Arapaho Creek
There’s a trail here somehwere
I never saw the Arapaho Lakes trail. For a while, I wasn’t sure which trail we were on. But after hiking a distance I figured to be much farther than we needed to go to reach that junction, I got the phone out to see what elevation we had reached. By now, we’d gone about half the distance between the missed junction and the lower Forest Lake.
We continued to lose and regain the trail until we could see the lake through the trees. Lower Forest Lake is, as the name implies, in the forest, having trees all around it. We arrived on its eastern shore, which is shaded and show bound. We spotted a rock outcropping sitting in the sun on the northern shore and made our way there. This entailed crossing a somewhat marshy area. Actually, that’s not a great description. All the ground around the lake was covered in flowing water. More than once I stepped where I shouldn’t have stepped and got some water in my boots. This early in the season, the only wildflowers I spotted are those yellow and white ones that grow in abundance in these marshy areas.
Lower Forest Lake
Just to be clear, my main issue with the snow involves navigation. Given the route-finding difficulties we faced reaching the lower lake, we decided not to bother trying to reach the upper lake (which would be somewhere roughly in the center of the above panorama). Had I been here before, and been familiar with where we were headed, I’d have continued.
We sat on our rock and basked in the bright, cloudless sunshine for an extended break. It was a bit early for lunch but I’d worked up an appetite and ate anyway. I don’t know what it is about eating on the shore of some alpine lake after a few hours of hiking, but even average food is delicious. My turkey avocado Swiss sandwich on sourdough bread was fantastic. The can of Tommyknocker Blood Orange IPA wasn’t bad, either.
I took the GoPro with me so I could capture a time-lapse video, but we didn’t see a single cloud all day. Sometimes the weather is just too perfect!
Flaps down
Hand out
You can call me Jay
On our hike out, we more or less retraced our footsteps. During our break, I’d managed to pretty much get my feet dry, but I quickly made another misstep and gave myself another case of wetfoot. So it goes.
So far, we’d encountered only a handful of other hikers. I was starting to think that perhaps ProTrails had overstated the amount of traffic this trail gets. It may be that the snow was discouraging people from reaching the lake, but from the bridge over Arapaho Creek back to the trailhead we ran into substantially more traffic. Unlike RMNP, dogs are allowed on the trails here, as long as they’re on leashes. Well over half of the hikers we met had dogs with them.
Not long before we reached the trail junction at South Boulder Creek, we heard the blast of a locomotive horn. I don’t know if it was entering the tunnel or leaving it. I was a bit disappointed we missed seeing it. The tunnel is ventilated by giant fans. These fans run for twenty or thirty minutes after the train clears the tunnel. These fans sound like giant power saws and we could hear them from more than half a mile away. I couldn’t tell how they were powered – are they electric or diesel?
We were back to the trailhead a few minutes after 1 pm. In spite of the snow, and of not reaching the upper lake, I found the day quite satisfying. Of course, if I want to visit all the lakes in this area I’ll have to hike this trail again, but that’s quite alright. Lower Forest Lake isn’t the most scenic lake, and the hike is your average forest hike (that is, “you can’t see the views for the trees”), but there are plenty of worse ways to spend a day.
Although it’s possible I could hike all these trails in a summer, I don’t think I’ll make such a concerted effort. This trail had the lowest destination elevation of the group so I figure it’ll be another month before many of the other lakes served by this trailhead are easily reached.
Over the last decade or more, it has been my habit (or goal) to spend fifteen to eighteen days a year wandering through Rocky Mountain National Park. It appears, at this point at least, that I won’t make a great effort towards that goal in 2021.
First, in the time since I first started backpacking (as opposed to day hiking), my approach has been to visit the permit office in person when making reservations. My thinking is that I’ll get better results than by email. I go in with a list of specific camp sites and vague dates. “What dates do you have available for Upper Ouzel Creek,” for example. Given a short list of desired sites and a bit of flexibility on dates, I have been able to secure my desired permits.
This year, however, due to the knock-on effects of the COVID pandemic, the office is closed to in-person visits. And, to complicate matters, they had technical issues that caused several delays in getting the online process functioning. The bottom line is they stopped accepting requests before I even knew they started. I should have been paying closer attention.
But, in the end, I don’t think my failure to act promptly was as big of a problem as I first thought. When I was trying to figure out what they’re doing with the timed entry passes, I found their map of area closures:
Map captured on June 3
It looks to me like about a quarter of the Park is closed. The yellow shaded areas on the map are the closures. This area is not the same as what was burned last summer: I’m pretty sure the campsite we camped at last summer did not get burned, but because the lower sections of the trail were burned, anything above the burned area is closed.
So, on the west side of the park, the only trails available are those west of the Colorado River and the trails to Timber Lake and Mount Ida. On the east side, everything around Fern Lake is closed.
The timed entry passes this season are a bit different from last year. Last year, you needed a pass to go anywhere in the Park. I’m not sure that this applied to Wild Basin, as on my visits there last year I never saw any rangers at the entrance station. This year, the greatest restrictions are on the Bear Lake area. A pass is required starting at 5 am. The rest of the Park is generally open before 9 am, so no pass would be required for an early start on a hike to, say, Lawn Lake.
I picked up a July pass for the Bear Lake area. I’m thinking I’ll visit Andrews Glacier, which I haven’t done in at least fifteen years. After that, I’m not sure where I want to go.
So all this leads me to start looking for hiking opportunities outside RMNP. Luckily, there is no shortage of choices. It’s a great excuse to see the beauty of Colorado outside my normal stomping grounds.
Under the category “Spending Money Like We’re Rich” sub-category “Joys of Home Ownership”: having the house painted.
I called three painters, one never returned my call, the other two gave me proposals. I asked for three prices: painting the house and shed and all carpentry repairs; sanding and staining the deck; and redoing the epoxy paint on the garage floor. One repair I specifically called out was to the front door, where the closer for the steel door attaches to the side jamb. The first guy doesn’t do garage floors and wouldn’t do the door repair. I went with the first guy. He was several hundred dollars cheaper and I liked that he gave me a very detailed proposal. The second guy’s price for the garage floor was more than it’s worth to me, so even had I gone with him, I’d have passed.
To do the door repair, I needed to buy a new tool. I had the good fortune (?) to put my foot through a rotted plank on the rear deck, so that gave me an opportunity to practice with the tool where I could more afford a mistake.
Before, during, ready for the painters
On the deck, I replaced three planks and decided a few more were required. But I needed 12′ boards, which I can’t carry. The painter said he’d pick them up for me so I went and picked out the boards, paid for them, and left them at the store. He got them at the end of the day, but he somehow got the wrong lumber. He picked up the correct lumber the next morning. I told him I’d make the remaining repairs, but he offered to do it for me at no additional cost.
Rotted plank, repair ready for painters
On his walk-through before writing up the proposal, he pointed out the damage to the siding on the north side of the second story. This area was painted when my roof was replaced because of hail damage. Although they repaired some trim pieces, they made no repairs to the siding. I wondered if it was something that was missed, but it would have been missed by both the contractor and the insurance adjuster. No failure to repair, just entropy at work.
Wavy siding and water damage on the bottom couple courses
They ended up replacing quite a bit more of the siding than he originally thought. These days, each board is about thirty bucks. I didn’t count the boards, but there were several boxes.
After this photo, three more boards were removed from the garage wall. Window trim repairs, too.
I have a number of additional photos that simply illustrate how long overdue this project is. I won’t belabor the point.
It was a crew of four guys for six days, but it wasn’t always the same four guys. Sometimes there was one radio station blasting in the front yard and a different station in the back. The boss, Daniel, is a big man with a big voice, which he used often. And with the saws, sanders, and grinders, it was a noisy time.
I was somewhat annoyed that they borrowed a lot of my tools – blower, the saw I bought for the door repair, my drill, a small pry bar, an extension cord. And I had to go with him to rent the big sander for the deck, Daniel says, because he doesn’t have a credit card. Oh, and Genae busted one of the guys washing his car. She said he looked embarrassed.
After they left one afternoon, I saw that one of the garage doors was open a foot or so. When I closed it, it kept trying to close after it hit the floor so it reversed. Somehow, the adjustment got out of whack. I couldn’t figure out how to fix it, but Michael spotted the screws where you make the adjustment. I asked Daniel about it the next day. He had tried to open the door and thinks the weatherstrip was stuck to the paint. Must have caused the drive belt to slip a notch.
The careful observer will note that we went with a slightly different shade of green. I’m happy with it.
The only real mishap of the project was when we lost our internet. Until last year, we had DirecTV. Over the years they had to come out to either upgrade the dish or run new lines. I joked that the house was held together by all the coax cables. I wanted all the cables gone from the outside of the house. Genae and I followed the internet cable into the phone box where it came out of the back of the garage. I told Daniel they should take every cable off that wasn’t connected to the box. Well, they cut one too many wires and we were without internet for 24 hours. It was a calculated risk.
Ever since we did the engine swap last winter the car has been leaking like the Exxon Valdez. In the end, it was two issues. The first we found and fixed quite some time ago. It was just something we missed in the swap – a small part we should have replaced but didn’t. But that wasn’t the only issue.
So we took the clam off, cleaned the engine, and fired it up. With the clam off, the problem was obvious: we had a major leak in the timing chain cover gasket. To make this repair, you really replace three or four gaskets. And we may as well change the water pump at the same time, because it’ll never be easier.
But “easier” is relative. Easier than what?
The intransigent bolt
The first big issue was getting a bolt out. With stock motor mounts, you can take out two mounts and clock the motor to remove the bolt. With my hard solid mounts, you have to take out three and employ an engine hoist.
I called Stevenson Toyota and ordered the parts. I’d pick them up on the way to the club meeting. But the meeting got pushed to Sunday, so it ended up being out of my way. Mountain States Toyota is closer. At the parts counter, I tell the guy I’m here to get my order. He goes into the back. He’s gone for a long time. He finally returns, has a pow-wow with the other parts guy. They can’t find the timing cover gasket. They know it’s in the building, it came in from Kansas City, but they can’t find it. “Do you need that part?” Yes, I need it, it’s the object of the game. They order another one from Kansas City. It’ll be here by Wednesday.
The damaged gasket (photo credit: Michael)
There was also a discussion of the sealer I’d ordered. The guy says it’s really expensive, like $80 a tube. On the phone, he’d said $8 or $10. Now he tells me their techs get several applications in a tube, and the price he quoted was for an application. He suggests I use a different one, the one commonly used. “Here, I’ll just give it to you.” Cool.
He’s the guy I talked to when I originally ordered the parts. When they couldn’t find the gasket, he said, “You’re the Lotus, right?” And on my second visit, he called me “Lotus”. This time he gives me the gasket, no charge.
Once we had all the parts, Michael could work his magic.
And then the unfortunate happened. The bolts that secure the cover each has a torque spec, but there’s no sequence specified. When Michael was torquing a bolt, he heard a distinct “ping!”
The cover was cracked.
“Ping!”
I went down to the garage and found him sitting on the floor, studying his phone. He told me what happened, and a quick search indicated we could get a replacement for $450.
I know how I’d feel if it was me that had done this. I’d have burned with shame. I can feel the heat just thinking about it.
He’s a good mechanic, and he’s proud of his work. So when I tell him it’s no big deal, it doesn’t make him feel any better.
I do a quick internet search and find a replacement on eBay for $150. I’m just about to buy it when I realize we already have one: it’s on the bad motor in the shed. Now all we need is another set of gaskets.
I call the guy at Stevenson to place the order. “Have you ever used our website?” I say “No.” He tells me I should, as it’ll save me a bunch of money. It didn’t occur to me that it’d be cheaper, but so it goes. Even with ten or eleven bucks postage, it saved me money. This gasket, by the way, came from Los Angeles. Makes me wonder how many of these gaskets are available.
(photo credit: Michael)
There is more than one size of bolt for this cover, and Michael says it’s possible he had gotten one wrong (but, it’d be two, right?). When he pulled the cover off of the old engine, he transferred the bolts to the cracked cover so there’d be no such error the second time.
(photo credit: Michael)
Early on in this endeavor, I figured we’d be done with this before the end of April, so I bought a track day for April 25. All this drama: parts going missing; an upsetting “ping”; the bolt that won’t come out short of (damn near) removing the engine. All this just added a bunch of stress and put the schedule in jeopardy. Even the schedule was a self-imposed stress: I could get a refund if I cancel at least a day in advance.
But we Michael got it done, on budget and on time.
On Friday we filled it with fluids, hooked up the battery, and fired it up. We ran it up to temperature and were happy to see no leaks anywhere. Saturday was a LoCo meeting, so that would make a nice shake-down cruise.
Saturday morning I washed the car. I still had the undertray and diffuser off. Both were well coated with oil and grunge. I washed the car first, with car wash soap. I used Dawn dishwashing liquid (“3X the grease cleaning!”) on the undertray and diffuser. When I was done, they were cleaner, but not quite clean.
Michael came outside to help me button up the underside of the car. “What time are you leaving for your meeting?” he asks. “I’d like to leave by 11:15.” “It’s 10:54 right now!” We got them put on, but not totally fastened down. We had trouble locating a few fasteners. This would be okay for a short drive, but we’d have to have it buttoned down properly for the track.
It was nice to drive it, finally, after three months.
My original intention was to post this to the blog as soon as we’d arrived at the conclusion. However, the conclusion put me in a bit of a funk and I didn’t want to deal with it. That’s been several weeks, now, and I finally am ready to record it.
I had also intended to take my rough notes and work them into something presentable. Instead, I’ve only made a few spelling, punctuation, and word choice changes. I also added a few minor editorial notes (in italics) to clarify things in the narrative that I only learned later.
Monday, August 3
A bit before 3pm, we were in the left turn lane from westbound 92nd to southbound Harlan. It’s a double left turn. We’re in the right lane, first of four or five cars. A bus goes through the intersection southbound, making a right at the light (to stay on Harlan). Just before we get the green arrow, a white Toyota pickup with black trim pulls up in the left left turn lane.
We get the green arrow. He gets almost a car’s length ahead of me then comes across into my lane, because he doesn’t want to go straight, he wants to stay on Harlan. The bus is just making the right turn and going slow, but still going. The Toyota has to slow way down to not hit the bus. I hit the brakes and the horn at the same time. The bus is still moving, but slow. The Toyota comes to a complete stop and I tap him.
We pull over into the Conoco station. Not into it, but into that driveway. We both get out of our cars. He lets loose a torrent of abuse, I can’t get a word in edgewise. He calls me a “blind, old man.” We walk toward each other, meeting about half-way. We end up close together, not quite face-to-face. He tells me to get out of his face, or he’ll fuck me up.
I now have what I can best describe as if being in a dream: a few seconds of experience, not connected to anything: I am the ground, wondering “What am I doing on the ground?”
Another bit of dream-land; a few moments of time not connected to any other experience: I look down into my left palm, which is filling up with blood from my nose. It’s not dripping, it’s a stream. I move towards the curb and grass, and blood is still pouring out of my nose, drenching my shoes. I sit down with my back against a tree.
The next discontinuity is more subtle: I’m still sitting against the tree. I am subsequently told about ten minutes have passed. I have a huge wad of bloody kleenex in my hands, my nose is still bleeding. A cop gives me a pellet to stuff into my nostril and a spring clamp for my nose. My shirt only has a few splatters; my shorts are clean. My shoes belong on a murder victim.
Evidently, the EMTs have come and gone. I don’t remember them. Genae tells me they asked if I was on any blood thinners. Genae said she wanted to mention the low-dose aspirin. Which means I didn’t. I’m told that I was saying he never touched me; I was saying that I wasn’t punched.
I only later find out the proper sequence of events. Genae tells me that the cop who gave me the things for my nose was before the EMTs. So I’m missing some time between the river of blood and the cop, then a much bigger chunk. I’ve been “Swiss-cheesed”.
Somebody getting gas shot a video, which starts a split second before the punch lands and goes for about ten seconds. The guy texted it to me. It’s a distant shot, so not much detail. He hits me and I go down like a sack of potatoes. I land on my ass, and perhaps the back of my head hits the bumper of the car. It’s not a good angle. Then I get up, move towards the curb and fall to my hands, but not my knees. I’m not sure whether I’m staggering, or just picking up my sunglasses. I put my sunglasses on and get in the car, then immediately get back out. I’m amazed there’s no blood in the car. I must not have started bleeding until I got back out. I’m guessing I remember the bloody five or six seconds immediately after the end of the video.
Witness video
I don’t recall the EMTs, but there were still several cops there when I my own memory resumes. One asked if I want to press charges. I told him I hadn’t been punched since junior high school. Of course I’d press charges. The guy hadn’t even left the parking lot. He admitted punching me.
Based on the missing ten minutes, it’s pretty clear I got concussed. I have no tenderness on the back of my head, so I’m pretty sure I didn’t hit my head on the car. Presumably the EMTs checked me for dilated eyes. I have a very minor headache right now, but it could be just from a generally bad day.
Sitting on the pine needles, leaning against the tree, I was more dazed than hurt. I really had no pain at all, so I’m guessing a bit of shock. Genae offered me some water. I swirled it around my mouth and spit it out. There was a little blood; a second rinse of the mouth was clean. I have no cut in my mouth, but a small abrasion on the inside of my left cheek from my upper teeth.
After the police and EMTs were done, Genae drove us home. As we pulled into our cul-de-sac she told me “I think he followed us.” I told her there are a million white pickup trucks and she shouldn’t worry about it. When I got the police report, I couldn’t help but notice that the guy lives just a few houses away. I can throw a snowball from my backyard to his.
There was no swelling until more than an hour later. I should have been quicker getting ice on it, but never occurred to me. Genae put an icepack together for me and I used it until it was mostly melted. When I was about to fire up the grill for dinner I blew my nose. The bleeding started back up. Not too badly; only used a couple of kleenex. I write this, at 10:30, it’s only starting to show some discoloration. I’m expecting it to get much uglier. I can cover the swollen part of my cheek with my fist. That is, it’s obvious where his fist came into contact with my face.
My teeth and gums, upper left, are numb, as if I’d had Novocaine.
Approaching 1am, I haven’t slept yet. My mind won’t rest. I’ve made a few updates to this document.
I finally sleep at two, but wake up a few minutes after six.
Tuesday, August 4
I certainly didn’t feel like walking this morning.
A quarter of my mouth is still numb, still as numb as was last night. I was able to get an appointment to see the dentist at 10am. Pulchalski has retired and we haven’t looked for a new dentist, so I called his old practice. Got an appointment with a guy I’d never met before, a young guy.
Of course, both the assistant and the doctor asked what happened, so I told the story briefly. They took three x-rays, two of which they had to do twice. X-rays look good. Next was a visual inspection, then prodding me with a sharp tool: I could feel some pressure but no pain around three teeth, a bit more sensation on the others. No problems opening wide for him, which he noted. Had I taken the blow on the jawbone, it could have been serious. Likewise, had it been around my eye.
I had him write up a little note. I don’t know if I’ll need it, or something like it, but I want to get what documentation I can. The prognosis is good: the nerve is being affected by the swelling. Once the swelling goes down, in all likelihood, there is no permanent damage. The treatment plan is to take 1 or 2 Ibuprofen every four hours and do three twenty minute sessions with an ice pack.
I sat watching Danger Man with the ice pack. For one episode, I had it where I had it yesterday afternoon. It was mostly affecting the cheek, I don’t think it was doing much for the gums. For the next episode, I managed to contort my face to get the ice in a more effective place. I think the feeling is coming back a bit, starting at the back. The Dentist said I may experience a burning sensation or it may feel prickly, which isn’t unusual. So far, none of that.
He wants me back next week for a follow up.
Wednesday, August 5
I slept better last night, fell asleep about 10:30, but woke up before six.
I called the Westminster Police Department today wanting to talk to somebody about my case. I didn’t get to talk to any of the officers involved as none of them starts work until two. The first person I get to talk to just directs phone calls. I gave her my report number and she said, “Oh yes, I remember that one. How are you?”
I understand that a Detective Hard will be dealing with the case, or perhaps Officer Burgess, or perhaps both.
I wanted to make sure that they knew what happened leading up to the assault. I was told that they have it all. As I don’t recall talking to any police officers, I don’t know if they got the story from me. So I asked if they knew that “the other party” intentionally caused the collision. She said that, yes, they knew.
I left a message for Detective Hard and hope to hear back from her.
I also called Allstate. Paul wasn’t in the office, so I left a message and hope to hear back from him.
Later… Paul returned my call. We had a long conversation. He recommends, even if I don’t make the repair, that I open a claim and get an estimate. Due to the unique situation (he’s never dealt with road rage that turned into an assault), he’s making a couple of calls to experts/consultants on his end to verify the best course of action. He recommended that I start a claim.
Later… Detective Hard called. She tells me that the miscreant was cited for battery (a misdemeanor) and for having no proof of insurance. He was not cited for the traffic incident. Detective Hard was the officer who was parked nearby. She said she’d have a victim advocate reach out to me. She also told me that if I find out I have any broken bones I should contact her, as that will change the charges.
Reading that last sentence now, months later, causes me much discomfort. She told me what to do, I made a note of it, and I promptly… forgot. Had I remember this, subsequent events may have turned out much different.
Shortly thereafter… A woman called from the victim advocate’s office. She’s not the one I’ll be dealing with; someone will call me tomorrow and that person will be my contact through the whole process. The miscreant’s court date is 8/27. I don’t need to attend court, but I think I will. Which means I’ll miss out on my timed entry pass for RMNP on that date. Oh well.
In any event, I should be eligible for some restitution. Most likely, this will only cover the dental visits. I need to explain the precipitating event to the judge in the hopes that we can get the miscreant to tell his insurance that he was at fault. This way I can get the car fixed. I can’t justify paying $600 to fix this small cosmetic issue, but I know that every time I see it, I’ll be reminded of the battery.
I called Allstate and started a claim. I download an app and use that. I’ll take photos and they give me an estimate from that.
You can’t really see the extent of the swelling
About this time, I ran into a couple of my neighbors. Naturally, they asked about my injuries. I went through the story. One said, “The guy in the white pickup? He’s got problems!” We live across the street from an elementary school. One day, somebody decided to turn around using Supitar’s driveway. He was outside at the time and threatened the driver with violence. For turning around using his driveway. Clearly, I live a couple of houses away from a sociopath.
Friday, August 14
I had a 10:30 appointment to get a 3-D image of my mouth. North Washington Dental doesn’t have the equipment, so they sent me to Standley Lake Dental Group. I wanted to be there fifteen minutes early to fill out all the paperwork. There was nobody in the lobby when I arrived. Fill out the COVID screening form, get your temperature taken (“I’ve been in the sun: I drove a convertable”), take a seat. I grabbed the one farthest from both the reception desk and the entrance. Another patient arrives and is called back before I get called.
The imaging machine takes a 360 degree view. The last one of these I saw, you sat down for the scan. This one I stood up. Bite on the blue piece. The operator adjusts the fit then takes a preview shot. The full scan takes about thirty seconds.
I have a broken bone in my face. We discuss the nerve and swelling and sensation. He does the cold test next. He’s surprised how many teeth are numb.
Broken bone circled in red
He recommends I see an oral surgeon. He can recommend one, or I can have Harger from North Washington make a recommendation. Harger doesn’t work Fridays, so I get the referral from this guy. I now have a 1:10 appointment in south Lakewood. It’s 11:45. I’m billed $200 and given a DVD with the CBCT scan, and a referral slip. I ask them if my dentist will be able to view the disk. “Of course!”
I made a quick trip home. I didn’t have time for lunch so I snacked on a few grapes.
At the oral surgeon’s, the door is locked. A sign says to call for a screening. They ask the usual questions, then someone comes out and takes your temperature (“Convertible!”). You sign the form with the answers from the phone interview and go in. They take me directly to an exam room. The gal takes the DVD and leaves the room. Comes back a few minutes later. “They didn’t include the viewer on the DVD, so we can’t read it. We’ll do the scan again but won’t charge you for it.”
They take me to their scanning room. They have two machines there: one like the one I used this morning, and one like I used years ago. (“Used” doesn’t seem like the right word. “Used on me”?) They sat me down on the older one and did the scan.
Yup, I have a broken bone in my face. It’s a very delicate bone. She said any attempt to put a plate in would just make the numbness worse. It’ll heal on its own. She described the bone the way you would describe a crash structure on a car without using that term. I have a bunch of fluid in my sinus. It’s blood, and it’s not infected. I’m not to blow my nose, as that could move the broken bone and might cause an infection. I should refrain from nose blowing for three weeks.
As to the numbness, the nerve looks good. That is, it’s intact. There’s a small chance that the numbness won’t get any better, but in all likelihood I’ll be okay. It’ll take months to get my sensation back. I tried to get her to give me some idea of what a “small chance” is. One out of twenty? She refused to answer.
“Is the little green convertible yours? I could get into a lot of trouble in that!”
They escort me out the “back door”. It’s not a back door; it comes out on the same side as the door where I entered, just down a bit.
I spent much of the rest of the afternoon doing paperwork. I filled out the Crime Victim Compensation Application and the Victim Impact Statement. Each requires that I attach copies of my bills.
The bruising is almost gone.
I picked an attorney at Findlaw and asked for a consultation.
In the end, I reached out to three or four attorneys. None ever responded. Most people are surprised that no one was interested. They feel from the TV ads that lawyers will be happy to take such a case. Evidently, they feel there’s no money to be made from mine, and it’s not even worth the bother to spend a minute talking to me.
One good thing about having to wear a mask at this time due to COVID is that my bruises are covered by the mask. I don’t wear my mask when I’m hiking, and on one of those days, a little kid looked at me while I was at the trailhead. He seemed to be fairly repulsed by my face.
Insurance Status
I opened a claim with Allstate and I’ve already been paid $68 and change. Their estimate for the damages is $668, so after the deductible that leaves me $68 bucks.
Novak managed to figure out that the other guy has USAA Insurance. (“There’s your military training.”) He tells me I should call them and open a claim. Gave me the phone number and the first couple of prompts I’ll hear when I call. So I called and opened a claim. I passed that claim number back to Allstate.
I have no idea how this will all work out.
Talking to USAA, I mentioned that I’d also been assaulted by their member. The gal mentioned she’d handled a claim where their member was shot. I told her I was happy their member didn’t shoot me.
First Court Date, August 27
The documents I received from Westminster include Supitar’s court summons. His appearance was scheduled for 8:30am on Thursday, August 27.
I had a timed entry pass for the Park on that day. I’d really rather be hiking than dealing with this. For a long time, I considered just going hiking. The night before, I packed my lunch, put my boots in the car, and put the top on the car for an early exit. I was planning on visiting Keplinger Lake.
But I couldn’t sleep. The guy concussed me, broke a bone in my face, and I might have permanent nerve damage. I need to state my case. I tossed and turned until some time after 1am.
So I didn’t go hiking. I called the court clerk to find out if court would be held in-person or remotely. I was told that the time of his case was changed to 10:30 and that the hearing would be by phone. They would call me when it started, but it may not start promptly.
It did start fairly promptly. I was called by a clerk and told to put my phone on mute. I would speak only if the judge requested. In addition to the judge and my silent self, Supitar and his attorney were on the phone. When the judge asked if they were on the same call or on different phones, the attorney said, “He’s standing here next to me.” The attorney’s name was Mayberry and I gather he’s a public defender. This turns out to be incorrect. Supitar makes too much money to be granted a public defender.
The call went very quickly. The attorney asked for time for discovery and a new court date. After some back-and-forth regarding dates, it was agreed that he would be in court (in person, if all goes to plan) for a hearing on September 29 at 10:30am.
I never said a word.
I’m tired and I’m feeling somewhat depressed. It has been nearly a month and I can’t seem to go more than a short while without thinking about what happened that day. I guess it doesn’t help that the numbness in my mouth is a constant reminder. (I want to say that I’m regaining sensation, but I can’t be sure. I’m certainly becoming accustomed to the numbness and for the most part now the only time it bothers me is when I’m brushing my teeth.)
October 1 Update (2nd hearing)
Supitar’s second court date was two days ago, September 29th. That morning, I called the court clerk’s office to verify that the time and date hadn’t changed. Bob offered to go with me, but when I called the court, they told me that only people with business could attend. So I was on my own.
I went to the courthouse. Supitar was already there, sitting in his truck, waiting, I guess, for his attorney. I went in. At the security station, I told them I was there for his hearing and that I am the victim. They asked who I was working with. I’m not working with anybody, nobody has told me how any of this works or what my role is. They directed me to take a seat in the lobby and they’d find somebody to help me.
A few minutes later, Supitar came in with his attorney. The security station was mostly out of my sight, but I saw him enter the door and heard him give his name to security. One of the security officers came to me and escorted me to a locked room so that we wouldn’t be in the same room. He again said someone would be with me soon.
The room I was in had two doors, the one I came in through and another that led to a hearing room. After a few minutes, I heard voices in the hearing room. Supitar and his attorney were in there. The door has a small window, but I didn’t put my face into it, and I couldn’t hear what was being said.
Eventually, a woman came into the room. The hearing room was now empty. Whatever had happened in there was all over now.
The woman introduced herself as Lana, victim advocate. She asked me if I’d received any communication from the victim advocate. I told her I had, that I’d sent in my medical bills and victim impact statement. I told her I didn’t remember the name of who I was dealing with. She left and returned a few minutes later.
[I got a letter a week or so ago saying that I needed further documentation on my medical bills because they weren’t the same day as the crime. I called both dentists’ offices asking for them to send me a note indicating that the services were, indeed, related to the crime. Neither sent me anything. I called Standley Shores Dental and asked again. Got a bit of a runaround. Eventually, it was decided that I’d run over to their office and pick up a copy of the clinical notes. The notes, do, indeed, include my statement that the numbness was a result of being punched.]
Lana and I talked for quite a while. My main point was that because there’s no statement from me on the police report (and I lost 10 minutes of memory), I’m pretty sure I never made any statement to the police. And the prosecutor hasn’t reached out to me. So nobody has heard my story. And I think it’s important to tell my story. So I told it to her. She made a bunch of notes.
She also told me that he has a new court date: November 3 at 9:00 am. The defense has made an offer: 6 month deferred judgment with anger management. She asked if that was okay with me. We then discussed my medical bills and the situation with insurance. (I told her that because he’s not talking to either insurance company, I’d likely have to take him to small claims court.) I asked her who pays restitution – the perpetrator, or some fund. I said that it would be more just for him to pay my medical bills than if it comes from somewhere else. In the end, I said I was okay with 6 months deferred judgment as long as I get my medical bills paid and he tells his insurance company that he was at fault for the collision. In retrospect, I wasn’t really prepared to answer this question. I should have said I was not okay with that, but now I’m pretty sure it didn’t matter what I said.
We discussed his proximity to me. She recommended I get a security camera and motion activated lights.
In an email, she requested copies of my medical bills and the victim impact statement. I sent these, along with the photo I took in the dentist’s office of the imaging showing my broken bone. She said, “I want to see if the prosecutor is willing to give a harsher offer because he is not aware of the physical damages that happened to you.”
At times, I think I’m starting to get over this. I spent a Thursday evening at HPR and didn’t think about it once for four hours. On my backpacking trip last weekend, I rarely thought about it, which is a big contrast to my previous hike up Hunters Creek where I basically obsessed over it all day.
On the other hand, I’m still quite irritable. I snapped at Genae the other night.
The numbness in my mouth is nearly gone. Perhaps in a couple more weeks it will be a memory.
With each court date, I hope there will be some sort of resolution, that I’ll get some feeling of completion or see an ending. Each time, there’s another court date, another month to wait.
Meanwhile, on the insurance front, Allstate is still attempting to enter into the subrogation process with USAA.
October 21
Update from Allstate:
Dear DAVID M AND GENAE HILL
As you may recall, when we negotiated with the other insurance company involved in this claim to reimburse your deductible, those negotiations were unsuccessful. As a result, we agreed with the other insurer to submit the claim to an intercompany arbitration panel.
We have received the arbitration panel’s decision and, unfortunately, it was not in our favor. Because the decision is final and binding between Allstate Insurance Company and the other insurance company, we will no longer continue our collection efforts.
While this ruling brings our recovery efforts to an end, you may continue to seek reimbursement of your deductible on your own. If you choose to do this, we would be happy to provide you with a copy of the claim documents. To obtain a copy of these documents or ask any questions about your claim, please feel free to call us at the number listed above.
We are sorry we were unable to recover your deductible. Thank you for your cooperation and assistance during this process.
You are a valued customer, and we sincerely appreciate your business.
They had a copy of the police report, which shows that the other driver began in the wrong lane (even including a diagram), but the arbitration findings specifically state that he chose the “correct lane”. The lesson here is that the insurance company won’t admit their driver is at fault unless there’s a police report that states such. Even when it’s clear that other drivers can more or less do whatever they want and not be found at fault unless the police say so.
November 2
Finally, a phone call from the prosecutor.
See call recording.
Big takeaways: he should have been charged with reckless driving and a felony.
Potential problem: he was offered a plea. It was not accepted, but they may be under the impression that it is still available. He called it a “gift” offer. That is, very lenient.
He also said that the treatment plan (anger management) was robust but that people tend not to change.
November 3 (3rd hearing)
Court date.
This time we were all in the courtroom.
Defendant’s attorney isn’t a public defender.
They met with the prosecutor before the hearing. The prosecutor attended remotely (from within building). Defendant’s attorney told the judge that they had, in fact, accepted the offer. He said they had their response both in writing and in an email but that the acceptance was never recorded. He said that both sides will refer to case law to determine next course of action. Next hearing is 11/24 @ 9:00am.
His plea deal is essentially for the crime of giving me a bloody nose, not for giving me a concussion and a broken bone.
Between this and the election, I had a sleepless night. Didn’t fall asleep until after 3, woke up shortly after 6.
November 4
I spent some time composing a statement to give to the judge. Chris recommends emphasizing the vicious nature of the attack and my pain and suffering. Bob recommends keeping the language and my tone of voice neutral.
It’s four pages long in 16pt type, big enough for me to easily read.
I’ll try to polish it up a few times over the coming weeks. This will be my statement if the current plea ends up getting accepted. I’ll make a much shorter one if the result is different.
How long will this go on? I need some sort of completion. Every time I deal with the court or the insurance company I end up with a few sleepless nights.
November 24
Phone call from prosecutor. He thought he was talking to the defense. It took me a few minutes to get him to understand he was talking to the victim.
The initial offer was a deferred judgment, which means if he stays out of trouble for some period, the charges would get dropped.
The updated offer was probation.
We discussed the possibility of getting him to admit to his insurance company that he was at fault. He recommended we try to get restitution some other way, ie as part of the deal. I told him that I’ll certainly take Supitar to small claims if I don’t get made whole as part of this process.
He’s very confident that the initial offer has been successfully voided.
Today’s hearing only produced the next hearing date: 12/15 at 9am.
December 15 (4th hearing)
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Today’s hearing was scheduled for 9am. This hearing was remote, via telephone. I dialed in a minute or two early, but disconnected when what I was listening to was clearly not related to me. I reached out to the victim’s advocate to make sure the date or time didn’t change. She told me that the court was just running late and that I should get back on the line and wait patiently.
I sat through hearings for three or four cases: a homeless guy plead guilty for public indecency (urinating in public), another plead guilty for assault (two crimes, actually, part of a love triangle), one for a crime I didn’t catch who was already in custody and has served 30 days. He got sentenced to 90 days, including time served.
Finally mine came up. At 10:22. It was over at 10:33. Net result: a new hearing schedule for February 23 at 1:30pm.
Defense still wants the original offer. Defense will prepare some document arguing to that effect, presumably citing case law supporting it. They get 30 days to prepare it. Prosecutor gets 30 days to respond. He thinks the judge may have to decide on this. This is all about whether the original offer can be withdrawn or not, it has nothing to do with anything else.
This is getting tiresome.
“Justice delayed is justice denied.” – William E. Gladstone
February 23 (5th hearing)
The day before, Lana from Victim’s Advocate sent me an email:
“I am seeing that we originally had Mr. Supitar scheduled for tomorrow, however it looks like he appeared last week and resolved this case. Had the prosecutor reached out at all? In the notes I can see he plead guilty and was given a deferred judgment, I can’t see what the conditions of that were.”
The next day she was able to forward the sentencing summary to me. It’s dismal. He basically got off scot-free.
Supitar sentencing summary
He didn’t even have to pay for my medical bills.
Clearly, justice cannot be served if the victim is never heard.
I sent copies of my dental bills to Victim’s Advocate. She said she’d help me get restitution; I told her I’d already received it. She wanted copies anyway, to give to the prosecutor. “Restitution is reserved for 91 days.” So perhaps he’ll have to pay for my dental bills in the end.
This whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. We had five court dates, and I did my best to show up at every one. In the end, the fifth got moved and I wasn’t notified. It seems that there’s no requirement for the victim to be notified of court date changes unless it’s a domestic violence case. I never got to say a word in court, not as a witness, and not to the judge. I’m flabbergasted that the victim is not important enough to be heard in court.
Sometime between the fourth and fifth hearings, Michael had an encounter with Supitar. Michael stopped at Safeway after work. As he was leaving, making the left turn onto Vance Drive, he had to wait for traffic. When he pulled onto Vance, he was behind Supitar in his pickup. Anybody who lives in the dozen or so houses around me would naturally take the same route. So, naturally, Michael was making the same turns as Supitar was. Before turning onto 85th Ave, Supitar pulled over, rolled his window down, and, Michael says, seemed to want to start an altercation.
When Supitar goes north on Otis Dr or east on 85th Ave, he can see our house and all the cars parked in front of it. So there’s no doubt in my mind that Supitar has seen Michael’s car before. Did he want to start an altercation because he knew Michael was my son (or at least, knew he lived here)? Or is he so paranoid that he would challenge anybody who’s driving in the same direction as he is? I think either answer indicates the guy has serious problems.
I have revenge fantasies. If you were to give me the opportunity to do to Supitar what he did to me, and the only consequence would be a hundred dollar fine, I’d happily do it.
Back in my misspent youth, I organized a hike to Emerald Lake every year around the Memorial Day weekend. I didn’t keep track of when I started this, or how long it went on, but at one point I considered making a few t-shirts that said, “Umpteenth Annual Emerald Lake Hike”. This was my traditional first hike of the season. It was early enough that we were always hiking across snow, and both Dream and Emerald were still frozen, although not frozen enough to hike across.
Although I’m not generally a big fan of crowds when I hike, I still make it to Emerald Lake at least once a year. This time, I dragged Scott along. This was his first hike to Emerald.
As is usual, the weather along the Divide was much different than the surrounding area. It wasn’t exactly clear in Estes, but it wasn’t bad. The roads were dry until about a mile from the parking lot at Bear Lake, where we entered a snowstorm and the road became snowpacked. The Glacier Gorge lot was full, and I was a bit concerned that we’d find a full lot at the end of the road. I needn’t have worried – it was only about 2/3 full.
I was considering two different destinations: Emerald Lake and Two Rivers Lake. For a time, the trail to Odessa Lake was closed at the Flattop Mtn trail junction due to the fire last autumn. It’s open now, but the volunteers told me it has been getting very little traffic. Little enough, that is, that we’d need snowshoes rather than microspikes. I was feeling a bit on the lazy side, and there’s always enough traffic to Emerald that snowshoes aren’t needed.
To Scott, I described the hike as a “conga-line” hike. Not everybody who parked here at Bear Lake was going to Emerald, but most of them were. I guessed we might see fifty people when we got there.
At Nymph Lake, I generally try to follow the winter route rather than the summer route. I found some footprints and we followed them for a few yards, but this was not the “beaten path” and after we postholed a few times we retreated back to Nymph and opted for the summer route.
The ice at Dream Lake was covered by a few inches of freshly fallen snow. Typically, the wind keeps the ice clear, but it was quite calm today.
As has been usual lately, I’m often amused by the navigation questions I get from other hikers. I think the map at the trailhead is pretty clear. Either quite a few people can’t read maps, or choose not to. Everybody is just following somebody else up the trail, not terribly concerned with where they’re going. “How much farther to Gem Lake?” and “Is this Lake Haiyaha?” were my favorites from today. Also, standing on the ice at Emerald Lake, “Is there another lake above this one?”
A common problem with a January hike to Emerald Lake is, where to sit to take a break? Generally, if a rock here doesn’t have snow on it, it’s because of the harsh winds. It was calm and snowing, so no rocks were clear. We headed towards the western shore in search of something better than closer to the trail and came upon two young women taking pictures of each other. They had stripped down to their sports bras. Instagram culture.
We never did find a nice place to relax, so we ate our snacks standing up. Naturally, this limits the length of our break.
After our break, while we were still crossing the ice, I counted thirty-two people. Not quite the fifty I predicted, but it very well could be that eighteen people had come and gone while we were there.
On the way down, the winter route from Dream back to Nymph had gotten more traffic, so we went that way. We stopped a couple of times and I attempted to describe the nearby topography to Scott, but I didn’t do a very good job: visibility was better than when we started, but everything beyond the two large glacial knobs was obscured by snow. At one of these pauses, I spotted what looked like a brown disk at my feet. It was the bottom of a water bottle somebody had dropped. I meant to leave it at the trailhead but forgot about it. It’s a nice metal REI bottle.
Some hours later, Scott sent me a couple of Strava screen shots. It says we went 4.50 miles, which I think overstates it by a mile. It also says we averaged 1.8 mph. I really don’t think we were going that fast: I kept stopping to chat. I recall mentioning that I’m sometimes hiking with people who never stop talking, and today it was me who never stopped talking. Pot, meet kettle.
I don’t think I scared Scott off yet. He says he’s interested in going to Haiyaha this winter and wants to go on a longer summer hike, or maybe even a backpacking trip.
