Blog Buddy Meet-Up #4: Georgetown, Colorado

The Travel Architect

Jul 1

My fourth blog buddy meet-up was unplanned, totally spontaneous, and worked only because the blog gods smiled on us and all the planets aligned. Oh, and because Ruth is everything I want to be—namely, retired, and thus flexible and free. Here's how it all came together:

Our Colorado Hot Springs Loop Trip, Part 1 had several iterations. I won't bore you with all the details, just enough to make you grateful that I only post twice a month. Plan A had the husband driving out with Bobbie to the Centennial State, where I would fly to join him a few days later once my school year ended. We would start out in Idaho Springs so we could tackle a double 14er—Grays & Torreys—and the husband could cycle up Loveland Pass. When we couldn't get an RV site, I architected Plan B, moving us on down the road to Georgetown, which was better situated for those athletic endeavors anyway. Unfortunately, nestled as it is in a narrow strip between towering mountains, the town doesn't even have a campground for tenters, much less RVers.

See? Nestled. Source: https://www.uncovercolorado.com/towns/georgetown/ Photo by Don Graham

No matter, I thought, we'll stay at one of their charming inns. I booked Chateau Chamonix and made a mental note to contact blog buddy, podcast listener, and longtime Georgetown denizen Ruth Rosenfeld of rkrontheroad, but then . . .

Sewer rats.

Here's where I'll really spare you the minutia of the month-long drama starring rattus norvegicus and featuring a sink hole in the street, costly bids, several bouts of "sorry, this job is outside our purview," and one outrageously priced, insurance-rejected repair that was about equal in cost to a three-week trip to Europe.

To make matters worse, the fix was scheduled to occur after the husband had departed but before I flew out, and we both wanted to be home during the repair, just in case there were problems: Oops, we accidentally dug up your water line instead (I'm sure that happens), or one of the rats bit a worker and your homeowners insurance needs to cover it (ditto) or the problem is worse than we thought and we want to know how you'd like us to proceed—your choices are W, X, Y, and Z. We'll send the 28 pages of details, disclaimers, and legalese via email which you can read on your tiny phones from 900 miles away. Oh, and we need an answer within the hour because your street is now a river of sewage.

Enter Plan C.

I would cancel my flight and the husband and I would drive out together post-repair, scrap the whole Georgetown piece, and just do Glenwood Springs and Steamboat Springs as planned. Our trip, after all, is called the Colorado Hot Springs Loop Trip.

But wait, the husband eventually countered. Then we won't be able to hike a 14er and I won't get to cycle up Loveland Pass.

*Sigh*

Let's give a warm welcome to Plan D.

I can't remember why we didn't just tack Georgetown back on—probably I would have had to shift all our reservation dates or the trip was getting a bit long, rather like this post—but somehow we ended up scrapping both Georgetown and Steamboat, retaining Glenwood, affixing Breckenridge to the back end, and changing our 14er to Quandary Peak. In any case, Georgetown was not going to happen, so I never contacted Ruth. We did, however, mention all this craziness on the pod, and I that's where Ruth learned about the three ring circus that often characterizes travel-planning at our house.

Georgetown: a cute town with fabulous scenery and, obviously, wonderful people

But wait, you're wondering, isn't this supposed to be a post about a blog buddy meet-up and not the herky-jerky nature of your travel planning?

Why yes, yes it is, and we're just about there. Thanks for your patience.

So there we were with Denver in our rearview mirror, making for Glenwood Springs, 125 miles beyond. Then I saw a sign: Georgetown 15 miles.

Me: Will we need gas soon?

The husband: Yes (unspoken: We're towing in the mountains. We always need gas soon.)

Me: Let's get it in Georgetown. I'll send Ruth a message on the blog. Chances are slim she'll get it in time, but . . .

Quite literally 14 minutes later, as we got on the off-ramp to tiny Georgetown, I looked down at my phone and saw a response from Ruth. She said there was a visitor center with a clock tower just off the highway and she'd look for us in the parking lot there. Again, literally as I finished reading her message aloud we exited the off-ramp and there was the very building Ruth had described. The husband pulled into the gas station across the street and I walked over to attempt to discern which of the many people milling around the visitor center grounds was indeed my blog buddy.

Fortunately I'd seen Ruth's picture occasionally on her blog and because I have a mind like a . . . like . . . uhh . . . errrm, oh, yeah! A steel trap! I have a mind like a steel trap, so I was able to recognize her instantly.

We hugged, introduced ourselves with our real names (hers is Ruth), and were soon joined by the husband.

We chatted a bit, then all piled into her car (never get in a car with strangers, kids—this was a unique circumstance) and made the (one-minute) drive to Georgetown's historic downtown. We walked up and down the inviting street full of shops and came to discover that everyone knows everyone (including Ruth) in this closely knit community. Then we piled back into her car again and took the (two-minute) scenic route back to the visitor center, where we said our goodbyes.

The visit was short and sweet (just like Ruth and me), but—and I do hate to be the bearer of bad news, Ruth—that's probably not the last she'll see of us. Given Georgetown's unexplored shops and its proximity to several 14er trailheads, Guanella Pass, and even a via ferrata or two, it seems fitting to end with the immortal words of everyone's favorite cyborg assassin:

Ah'll be baack.

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