The view from paradise

Aloha from Maui! Mike and I have been here for three days. Yesterday was Mike's brother's wedding, held at the Grand Wailea Resort, a spectacular place that is so gorgeous, it's almost overwhelming. What a place to get married. Since we arrived Thursday night, we've done a lot of wedding-related things, had some beach time and taken a few walks along the shoreline. Mike took the photo here during a walk Saturday morning. The early mornings are the best -- the heat and humidity haven't kicked in quite yet, the light is perfect for pictures and it's quiet. It's the off-season here, although there are still tourists around. It's just not packed like I've heard mid-summer and winter can be.

The wedding festivities are over, but our vacation is only half over. Tomorrow we will do the ever-famous Road to Hana (I remember driving this road on a family vacation to Maui as a kid), then we fly out tomorrow night for Honolulu, where we'll spend three days.

This is the first warm weather/beach vacation Mike and I have ever taken. Most of our trips are so busy and packed with one thing after the other, in the end we need a vacation from our vacation. This afternoon we went to the beach with the intention of going snorkeling, something neither of us has ever done. We got there and saw the waves were pretty rough, so we skipped the snorkeling and decided just to spend some time wading/swimming (the waves were too high to do much swimming) and soak up the sun. It was nice just to spend an hour or two on the beach together. We both agreed that the whole idea of a beach vacation is pretty appealing -- more so than we thought. Then again, we've both had quite a crazy season of working the past two or three months. We needed to go someplace like Hawaii, where you really don't feel the pressure to do a whole lot except relax. It took me about three days to start feeling relaxed. I'm still a little uptight. This afternoon I got irritated with an "island driver" going about 30 mph in front of me. I sped around the guy about the same time I realized I'm not in my bustling, had-to-be-there-five-minutes-ago life right now. I can get stuck behind a guy going 30 mph and not care. Where do I have to be to drive in such a hurry anyway?

The sun has just set here. A few minutes ago the sky was ablaze with pink and orange. Now it's cooling down and getting dark. I have some packing to do before the next leg of our journey tomorrow. I'll write more about our trip when we get back.

My first day of golf

I had my very first golf lesson ever yesterday. I had been talking about wanting to learn to play for a couple of years, and Mike gave me a set of golf clubs for my birthday. I signed up for four lessons at a golf course down the street from where we live.

Today my arms and wrists are sore, my neck is stiff, and I realize just how much practice it's going to take to just get a basic swing down. (My instructor calls it a "turn," not a swing -- you're just turning your left hip to hit the ball.) Mike tells me it could be a couple of years before I feel like I have a comfortable swing. No wonder people get frustrated with this sport. We watch these professionals on TV who make it look so easy --not taking into account that the likes of Tiger Woods have had a golf club in their hands since age 3 -- and we think, "Well, gee, I should be able to do that." Yeah, right.

What I've learned so far is that if you pick up a golf club and swing it like you think you should -- without any instructions at all -- you're probably doing it incorrectly. It's not a natural movement. Yesterday I figured out my first weakness -- I twist my wrists in the back swing, and therefore when I bring the club down to hit the ball, I don't hit it right. I've got to keep my left elbow locked, my wrists locked, my body leaning forward, my knees bent but not bent too much. Boy, it's a lot to remember.

After the lesson I hit some balls at the driving range with Mike. He gave me some pointers, and the other men around me started giving me pointers, too. (I quickly learned not to listen to them . . . Mike said everyone who golfs thinks they know how to do it. I decided I'm just going to pay attention to my instructor.) For my first day, I think I made some progress. I'm no Annika Sorenstam or Michelle Wie, and I don't think I ever will be. That's not the goal, anyway. Mike kept telling me to relax and have fun. I kept getting frustrated that in one day, I didn't have a perfect swing.

I think I'm going to enjoy it, though, if I can relax. It really is beautiful out there, with the green grass, trees, the quiet and nothing to worry about except, of course, how you're playing the game. I'm nowhere near ready to attempt an actual course yet. I've still got a lot of time at the driving range ahead of me.

A sight to remember

Last night our neighbors, Mike and I saw something we'll not soon forget. Around 9 p.m., we watched as the Space Shuttle made its way from the northwest sky to the southeast.

Our neighbors told us about the appearance of the shuttle in last night's sky. They had heard on the TV news that it would be visible at 9:01 p.m. We spotted it a few minutes before that. At first it looked like a reddish-colored star, and we wondered if we were looking at the right thing, but it didn't take long to notice it was moving quickly -- very quickly -- across the night sky. The shuttle has to move at 17,500 miles an hour to keep orbiting Earth. We saw a second white light behind it, following at the same speed and in the same orbit. I've done some research since last night and found out what we saw was actually the International Space Station (the first reddish light we saw), with the Space Shuttle (the dimmer, white light) following behind it. A few minutes later, the shuttle and space station disappeared to our eyes.

As we watched, it amazed me that the shuttle was millions of miles away, and we were watching it orbiting the earth. (It orbits the earth once every 90 minutes or so. For more facts about the shuttle, go here.) It amazed me that people were up there, with a view of Earth few of us will ever see or comprehend. What amazes me now is that those same people are home tonight, subject again to the law of gravity. The shuttle entered Earth's atmosphere this morning and landed safely at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida despite some problems with this latest mission. And wow, to think that the shuttle was up there last night in the vastness of space, and it had to come home early to avoid any danger posed by Hurricane Dean. I'll bet the astronauts saw the hurricane from space -- it probably looked like a blob of swirling clouds around the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico.

The vastness of the universe compared to our little corner of it is too much for my mind to grasp. Seeing the Space Shuttle last night reminded me of how big God is -- and how amazing it is that He has His hand on astronauts in a tiny vessel, tiny compared to Him anyway, and people like us on the ground marveling at it all.

I'm not ready for this

I'm just not ready for the football season to start. I know, I know, it's only the preseason . . . the meaningless four weeks that seem to drag on until they finally decide to get down to business. The Denver Broncos played their first preseason game tonight, a win against San Francisco. As I watched and listened to it, I just couldn't fathom that it's time for football again.

Football season means a lot of things in our household. First and foremost, it means our weekends revolve around Broncos games . . . not because we're huge fans, but because part of Mike's job is hosting the Broncos pre-game, half-time and post-game shows on KOA Radio in Denver. For the past few years my contribution to the broadcasts has been bringing lunch (or dinner depending on what time the game starts) to the crew in the studio working the broadcasts. No, I don't make lunch each week (that would be much too ambitious), although occasionally I'll bring homemade cookies. It's usually Qdoba or Quiznos or something other than pizza. For a long time the studio crew ordered pizza almost every week, and they grew sick of it. I don't blame them. So on Sunday afternoons, I go pick up the food and bring a stack of grading to do for my classes as I watch the game in the KOA studio. (In case you were wondering, I get to eat, too. It's my reward for bringing the food.)

Dinner tonight was Qdoba, but as I sat for a while watching the game, I had to admit my heart just isn't in football yet. It was actually a little surreal to be watching the game. I'm still focused on the Colorado Rockies, who for the first time in a long time are playing games in August that still mean something. This summer, I've learned so much about baseball, I think I actually enjoy it more than football. The high temperature in Denver today was about 100 degrees. It's still summer. I've really enjoyed the summer this year, and I'm just not ready to let it go and embrace fall and all its glory, including football.

It doesn't really matter anyway. The last days of summer are still mine to enjoy. Preseason football means nothing. I'm convinced it's just another opportunity to make money (tickets to games, television broadcasts, advertising, etc.) and it gives the NFL a good month to hype up the regular season. Soon enough the weekend after Labor Day will come, and by then I'll feel more ready to embrace the change of seasons and the start to the REAL football season, or at least the part that counts.

The hike was awesome!

We made it! The hike Mike, my Uncle Ren and I did Saturday over Schofield Pass from Crested Butte to Marble was incredible. It turned out to be about 12 miles, most of it downhill. That doesn't mean, however, that our legs weren't sore at the end of the day . . . and they're still sore two days later. By the end of the day, I was praising the opportunities to go uphill for even a short distance. The worst part was the longest, steepest downhill stretch at the very end of the hike as we approached Marble. By then my quads and knees felt like jello.

The weather was perfect -- cloudy at the beginning of the day, sunny in the middle and cloudy again at the end. My mom, dad and Aunt Jan drove Kebler and McClure passes from Crested Butte to Marble to pick us up at the end of the day . . . a huge help. There's no way we wanted to turn around and hike 12 miles back.

The highlight was the diverse scenery . . . Emerald Lake at the beginning of the hike, the green forests with blooming wildflowers, forests of tall aspen trees, having to ford two streams (good thing we brought sandals with us) the steep "shelf road" (with quite a sheer drop-off) we shared with several jeeps, ATVs and mountain bikers, the dangerous Devil's Punch Bowl, the charming ghost town of Crystal and Crystal Mill (one of the most photographed sites in Colorado), the clear Crystal River that we followed for four miles from Crystal to Marble.

I'm so glad we did the hike. What great memories we have. Now I want to hike over West Maroon Pass, which starts near Schofield Pass and leads to the Maroon Bells outside Aspen. The summer is nearing an end for me and Mike because our schedules get crazy in late August and September, so we'll probably have to save that hike for next year.

Getting ready for a challenge

Ever since Mike and I went to Crested Butte earlier this summer, we've wanted to go back and hike over Schofield Pass, an old wagon road between mining towns that has come a legend of a road among ATVers and other four-wheelers.

On Saturday we're doing the hike with my Uncle Ren, aka Mr. Hiker/Athlete/I'm Up for Anything Outdoors. We're not really sure how long the hike will be, although we're guessing 12-15 miles. We'll hike from just outside Crested Butte to Marble. In Marble my Aunt Jan will pick us up in a car so we don't have to make another 15-mile trek back to Crested Butte, where we'll be staying. If you look at a map of Colorado, you'll see that Crested Butte and Marble aren't very far apart -- maybe 20 miles at the most -- but there's no paved road to get there. In a regular car you have go drive around by way of Kebler Pass and McClure Pass-- that translates into a two- or three-hour drive.

Of course it will take us a lot longer than two or three hours to hike the most direct route, but we'll pass the former town site of Schofield (a former mining camp) and the Crystal Mill, one of the most photographed old buildings in Colorado. Mike and I have become what I call ghost town junkies during the past few summers. This summer, especially, we've spent several weekends exploring some little-known places in Colorado, most of them old mining towns now abandoned with nothing left but a handful of old cabins, and driving on back roads we never knew existed. We've done all of this in Mike's little Nissan Sentra. (I think his car, aka the Silver Bullet, is going to need its shocks replaced before long.) It's been fun, though. We've learned about Colorado history along the way, seen some incredible scenery and gotten to know our beautiful state beyond the typical tourist areas.

When we found out about the road over Schofield Pass, we were instantly interested in hiking it. Four-wheel drives can navigate the route (click here for a description of the journey), but we wanted to get there on our own two feet. Most of the stuff you read about Schofield says it's a pretty dangerous road even for a four-wheel drive. People have died driving the route; the most notorious tragedy was in 1970 when a jeep full of people plunged into a point along the road called the Devil's Punch Bowl. Then again, we've read other accounts that say it's not nearly as dangerous as people make it out to be, and what's the big deal anyway?

I'm still a little nervous, though, mostly because I'm more of a 5-miles max kind of hiker, not a 15-mile kind of hiker. Mike and I both work out 4-5 days a week, but I still wonder if I'm up for this. And we're going with my Uncle Ren, an exercise nut who's an Ironman triathlete and is now hiking Colorado 14-ers. (I don't have much interest in hiking 14ers. I've done two of them in my life, and that's enough. A lot of people make a hobby of hiking Colorado's 54 14,000-plus-foot peaks. I'd rather do hikes like Schofield Pass; they're more off the beaten path.)

As I write this I realize I sound like I'm about 50 years old, not 35. We're still young, and we've been looking forward to this all summer long. I'll write about it when we get back and post some photos.

Time flies

It's hard to believe, but I'm already done teaching my five-week Introduction to Journalism class, or at least I will be done tomorrow after the final exam. A month ago, I had only just begun. That's the beauty of summer classes -- they're intense while they last, but they are over before you know it.

It's been a good class. My summer students are usually my best ones. This class was no exception. They kept me on my toes with good questions and a desire to learn.

I have two weeks now before the fall semester begins. I'll be teaching another five-week class -- the Metro State journalism department offers three of its core courses in five-week increments each semester -- and this one is even more intense. It's Beginning Reporting, a class where students do an assignment a day. Practice, practice, practice -- it's the only way to really learn how to report and write like my students' future jobs will require. But that daily practice means I'll have 15 assignments a day to grade. Ugh. Grading is the part of teaching I dislike the most. (And I don't have teaching assistants to do my grading for me . . . I wish I did.)

Meanwhile, I have a few reporting assignments of my own to juggle as I prepare for the fall and finish up the grading from the summer class. Teaching takes up a lot of my time, and between my two jobs (writing and teaching), I talk more about teaching and spend more time thinking about it than writing. (The teaching is still somewhat new, whereas the writing is like second nature, I guess.) Sometimes it's hard to switch my focus and remember I'm still a journalist, too, not only a journalism teacher.