Saturday, July 5, 2008

A New Yorker in Sybil Sage

A friend runs the music festival in Vail so we made our way here, passing through passes though not sure what passes are. In the East, we have streets, highways, freeways and routes, but nothing is named "Pass" near us. There is no Rye Pass, no "Bronx Pass"so right away we're on foreign turf, but we push on.

Vail is pretty, largely because nature and money have been plentiful. Where we get lost is aside from the music festival, what people do here is hike. Some are on mountain bikes and a few are riding the rapids, but hiking is required and I have put on my tennis shoes. Nothing I do in these shoes is fun for me and with the new suitcase restrictions imposed by airlines, I resent the room they take up in a suitcase.

Vail Pass is at 10,000 feet so it's different from Vail, which is ohly 8,000 feet, proving Pass has an important distinction. I'd like to pass on hiking, but I'm afraid they will take away my room if I don't so I'm going to something right now called a trail. I'm told to bring a water bottle and not a credit card. Life is strange here.