Away Together » Boulder

Boulder For Real

Sarah — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 03:43:57 +0000

Teddy looks over Boulder from the Red Rock trail in Settlers' Park. Could it be he's sad to leave, too?

Nine days after that somewhat mawkish “love at first sight” post, I am still romanticizing Boulder. Colly recently voiced my feelings while she was in the midst of a lesson at a local gymnastics gym (speaking of which, she and Kyle helped me produce a little movie yesterday about their time at that gym; scroll to the end of this post to see).

Colly’s face, which was flushed and beaming from the discovery of the high-quality facility and friendly coach, momentarily clouded over as she said, “The trouble with travel is you find a place where you want to stay, and then you have to leave.”

I pointed out the glass-half-empty perspective (i.e. if not for travel, we would not have experienced this place at all), but I also agreed with her. The trouble with Boulder is that we had to leave today.

Boulder seemed to click for our family; from Day One, we found our way around, fell into a routine and felt comfortable in the community. It’s not perfect (I’ll mention a few disappointments below), and I wouldn’t say it’s the most charming or gorgeous Zip Code in the state. But with its university vibe and just-right size, Boulder feels very real and livable. It’s also one of the healthiest places, with the most fit-looking people, I’ve ever visited. A guy selling ice cream from a cart in the park, for example, looked like a Runners’ World cover model, wearing a 10K shirt and Ironman cap.

The city and its people seem to lean into the Rocky Mountain foothills, running up the slopes to its fin-shaped Flatirons as if to escape the flatness of the landscape to the east, which spreads unchanging as far as the eye can see.

Perhaps my view is colored by happy times with friends. We experienced a veritable influx of visitors, and oh how nice it was to socialize again! First, an ultrarunning couple we got to know back in Oakland, Garett and Holly, came over for dinner with their toddler son, and then longtime friends Adam and Jennifer, in town for business, spent Saturday with us and brought their girls Zoe and Julie.

Two things that make Colly most happy: her dog, and her friends. Here she's with Julie and Zoe.

Colly was ecstatic to have friends for the weekend, and even happier when they whisked her away for a sleepover at their Denver hotel.

And what about Kyle? He was overjoyed for two days because one of his closest friends from Piedmont, Patrick, showed up to spend the weekend with us while his mom, Kia, was in town for a Buffs game. The boys spent hours splashing in Boulder Creek and transforming our living room into a fort, always in their own world and laughing at private jokes. While it was precious to watch, I also felt pangs about separating him and Colly from their friends for the whole school year. To friends who are reading this: If you plan to travel, please check our itinerary and consider crossing paths with us — we’d welcome you!

Patrick and Kyle reach new heights in their friendship during their time together in Boulder.

Here is a brief rundown of what our family will miss about Boulder — and what we recommend to anyone visiting there.

The trails: Boulder has over 200 miles of hiking and biking trails, 35,000 acres of open space — and we tried to sample as much of it as we could. As lovely as the Boulder Creek path is, especially where it winds up Boulder Canyon, the real treasures are the trails branching off from places like Chautauqua Park and Marshall Mesa.

Pearl Street: Boulder’s historic downtown district struck me as a friendlier and cleaner version of Santa Cruz’s Pacific Garden Mall. In just a couple of blocks, between 9th and 11th, we discovered three great restaurants: Centro, Bacaro and West End Tavern. (Don’t bother going to the over-hyped and always-crowded Rio Grande around the corner — the food and service were barely passable, but most people seemed to be drinking too much to care.) The kids repeatedly dragged us to Powell’s candy store on Pearl, and we were happy to comply. On Saturday night, we experienced the full spirit of Pearl Street and Buffs pride when we got caught up in a pre-game rolling pep rally with CU’s marching band. The kids grabbed pompoms, caps and toy footballs.

Patrick, Kyle and Colly get caught up in a Buffs rally on Pearl Street.

The gym: Colly and Kyle fell in love with the Colorado Athletic Training School (CATS) and a coach named Gordy. Check out their movie below. I think we were all relieved to discover that the kids don’t have to completely give up sports and hobbies during travel; with a bit of effort, we can find places along the way where they can do their thing.

Visitors on the front lawn of our Pearl Street house.

The house: As the last post detailed, I fell in love with 207 Pearl Street — the house and its location — in spite of the unpredictability of its hot water supply and wi-fi.

What’s not to like? The mall sprawl around 29th Street, overpopulated by franchise theme restaurants and big-box stores. I felt as though we were in Sacramento’s suburbs. And we were disappointed by the Fiske Planetarium at CU. We signed up for a “Moon and Lasers” presentation designed for school-age kids. What could have been a “stellar” learning experience turned out to be a bust because of the speaker. With virtually no introduction or context, she haltingly mentioned factoids about the autumnal equinox and moon cycles, nonsensically beaming a laser pointer around solar and lunar images projected on the theater’s dome. Then, without making time for questions or answers, she abruptly started a laser show. We found ourselves staring at psychedelic geometric projections while retro “space tunes” such as “Walking on the Moon” by The Police played. The kids left completely confused, and I left with a headache. At least it sparked our interest enough to further investigate the science behind yesterday’s equinox on our own.

Brrr! We found ourselves in a snow storm today. What a treat!

So goodbye, Boulder. Now we’re making our way back through Telluride and Arizona, briefly stopping at the Grand Canyon and Sedona, and then to Southern California by early next week. At least we enjoyed a taste of winter today, hitting a glittering snow storm that coated the pines and enhanced the golden hues of the aspens. Our one day of winter, before heading to spring and summer in the Southern Hemisphere, won’t be forgotten!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Love at First Sight in Boulder

Sarah — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 22:31:54 +0000

I have been in Boulder, Colorado, less than 24 hours and already feel as though I found a home away from home, or perhaps a home to move to in the future. Or maybe I lived here in a past life, about 140 years ago, when the home we’re renting was built — who knows? The fact is that even though I can’t yet find my way around town, I experienced love at first sight when we pulled into our destination.

We found our rental, 207 Pearl Street, through vrbo.com (Vacation Rental By Owner). Choosing a rental through this website is like throwing darts blindfolded, since all the properties look and sound good — or rather, too good to be true. We felt drawn to this place because of its alluring history as a settler’s farmhouse, and because the map showed it backing up to a green swath of open space yet walking distance to Pearl Street’s shopping district.

But we had done that research months ago, and I hadn’t bothered to recheck the website and reservations before arriving. Consequently, I remembered little about it and couldn’t even recall how many bedrooms it has.

An IPhone snapshot of our arrival Sunday night at 207 Pearl Street, Boulder.

We pulled into the two-story stone dwelling slightly frazzled after a daylong trip from Telluride, which we made longer by missing an exit on the freeway by Denver and then driving two sides of a large triangle. A symphony of crickets greeted us as we parked, and I paused briefly to read the plaque on the home’s side, designating it a city landmark. Then we opened the unlocked front door.

The plaque on the side of the house detailing its history.

We discovered two downstairs rooms that look charmingly anachronistic, framed by distressed wood floors, low wooden ceiling beams, double-hung windows, and chunky rock walls built with gravel-laden cement. In the midst of this antiquated setting stood gleaming stainless-steel appliances and a flat-screen TV. The kids ran from room to room, hollering at the discoveries of whirlpool jets in an oversize tub, skylights that open with the touch of a button, and a fireplace that turns on with a switch.

Meanwhile, I toured the place with my jaw dropped, disbelieving that we found ourselves in such a special place — a home that feels old yet updated, large yet intimate, luxurious yet rustic. It has two bedrooms (three if you count the queen bed wedged into the laundry room) and two baths, but it was built on a mid-19th-century scale, which means doorways and stairways are narrow and just a tad crooked. Taller people surely would hit their head on the low beams.

I puzzled at how the sheetrock against one wall mysteriously stops at a rough edge, revealing original stonework underneath, and how the slate tiles in the upstairs bathroom floor gape open and unintentionally create a little window to the washing machine in the room below. Here and there rusted pipes emerge from walls and go nowhere. Like any truly historic home, it reveals clues about its past that hint at how each generation and every repair added layers to its character and pages to its story.

Teddy feels at home in the small downstairs living room.

Teddy also likes hanging out at the foot of our bed.

We ate a late dinner at a trattoria on Pearl Street and fell into bed exhausted. I woke up when it was still dark outside and worked through the disorientation that comes from spending the night in a new surrounding — where am I? what day is it? My muscles ached from the race I ran Saturday, and my head ached from last night’s wine, so I knew I had to get out and run. I tiptoed around to find running clothes and headed out just after 6 a.m., the sun glowing but not yet showing over the mountains.

I ran no more than a couple hundred yards, to the junction of Pearl Street and Canyon Boulevard, before stopping to take in and fully appreciate the open space preserve so close to our front door. “Settlers Park,” the sign said, named after the settlers who camped under the red rock outcropping that rose suddenly at a trailhead before me. Still not fully awake and scarcely believing the good fortune that led me to this trail on which I could welcome the new day, I began scrambling up the rocky single-track. Midway up I stopped and had second thoughts. I had no idea how steep it was or where it went. This would be a great place to bring the kids and Teddy, I told myself, vowing to explore it with them later. I felt like relaxing my mind and muscles on a gentler and straighter route, so I headed back down and rejoined the main bike path that meandered along Boulder Creek.

Colly and Kyle in the shadows by the trailhead at Settlers Park, which we explored later in the day.

Another 200 yards and I paused again to look around at a grassy area and playground called Eben G. Fine Park, next to the picturesque river. I was at the mouth of Boulder Canyon and the paved path kept going on indefinitely along the shoulder of the river, hugging the sheer canyon walls. Picking up my pace, I discovered the pavement ended after about a mile and gave way to a well-groomed dirt footing ideal for running. No wonder Boulder is a runners’ mecca, I thought. And then, as if to prove my point, the first of several sinewy, elite-looking runners sped past. Faster and more frequently they came, some in matching outfits signifying their place on a team, all of them looking serious at a distance but then smiling as they passed.

I returned after about five miles, just as the others were waking. The kids and I walked a half-mile east on Pearl for breakfast at the nearest cafe while Morgan headed off on his bike.

I knew, and the kids knew, that we should get back to the house and start the day’s schooling, but we shared the sense that we’d rather explore. “Maybe we could do PE first,” said Kyle, “PE” being our tongue-in-cheek term for legitimizing playing and running around.

“Yeah, and it might get cloudy later, so we should go out now,” Colly added. Easily persuaded, I agreed that we should walk to the park.

Morgan, the kids and Teddy reunite on the bike path this morning.

Walking along the bike path, we soon spotted Morgan riding the other way. He turned around and went with us to the playground. First the kids played on the swings, then they splashed in the river.

Kyle and Colly "doing PE" in Boulder Creek this morning.

We were in no hurry to go anywhere, not compelled to do anything. Eventually the kids agreed it was time to go back. Morgan and I helped them with their schooling for a couple of hours, then we took a break, and then we spent more time reading and writing. The wi-fi was fickle, so we took more breaks. We made plans to buy groceries and take Colly to a drop-in gymnastics class tonight. Morgan ran an errand to the camera store.

And that’s all, and that’s why I love it here.

Colly and I spent time together this afternoon writing in the little office off the master bedroom, overlooking a terraced garden in back. The room probably used to be a back porch.