Last of the snow days

Our final day in the Vail Valley, and our second big hike. I can't resist the opportunity to post another handsome photo of Max in his element! This is where he shines.

This picture gives you a bit of an idea of the steepness of the slopes we climb in Arrowhead. This part feels nearly straight up! You can definitely feel the burn after one of these pitches...especially after a year of being "citified"!

View over the valley.


I think you can actually see Sam's head wincing away from Max's fierce lion's growl here. Max really wants Sam to grab the stick and play with him, but his growl is so fierce that Sam can't bring himself to bite. Just look at those teeth!

Heading back down to the valley floor.

How do you unwind after two days of heavy hiking? Hot tubs and sushi is how. The Arrowhead hot tub is a bit on the — um — hot side, so it's a challenge getting in, as you can see from the look on my face.

OK, phew, I think I can stand it now!

Sato is the restaurant where M cooked during many of his years in Vail. We always stop in for a dinner of epic proportions when we're in town. On this night, we ordered so much sushi that this is what was left over after we'd stuffed ourselves with as much food as we could possibly hold. I wish I could say that this was the first time we've over-ordered. Really it's a miracle that we forced down as much as we did. (But it's not every day we have this sort of opportunity, after all!) And what's worse, we took home a warm white chocolate and caramel bread pudding, which we polished off at the condo later that night.
If you stop in to Sato, the spicy garlic edamame is to die for (new on the menu this year).

Max poached a child's ball on the patio and had a go at it. You'd think that, at his age and with two repaired knees, he'd be tuckered out after three days of hiking at altitude. Not so this time around. He had energy left over.

M think Max looks redder than usual this spring. I can't tell. He does look redder in these photos, but a lot of that is the lighting filter from my photoshop ;)

Although the storm hadn't been as bad as predicted, we got up early on Friday morning in order to allow ourselves plenty of driving time before Mike had to be at work that afternoon. And it's lucky we did. This is just before the East Vail exit on I-70. Traffic was at a crawl, and trucks lined up for about three miles in the chain-up lane.

This is quite a bit of snow for mid-April! The roads weren't as bad as they might have been, but still...that's A LOT of snow!


Temps were still warm enough for the lanes to melt a bit, but it's very lucky we got that early start because the pass closed not long after we went through and remained closed for much of the day.

This is on Vail Pass.

And Copper Mountain on a snowy morning. You wouldn't know from the light that it's 10:30 a.m.!

If you're in Vail...

I have to take a moment here and pitch a little piece of the real, dyed-in-the-wool Vail history. As one who called the Vail Valley home for some 15 years, I can tell you that Vail wouldn't be Vail without the occasional Swiss hot dog after a long, chilly, arduous day of fun on the slopes. Swiss Hot Dog, recognizable for the blue cow on its rustic wooden sign, was an institution in Lionshead during the bulk of my years in the valley. Since the reconstruction of Lionshead, Swiss Hot Dog has been forced to move into a new (and not so iconic) location in Avon. M and I were delighted to find it there while wandering in search of lunch. Nothing — really nothing — can bolster your tired muscles and ragged soul after a punishing day of high-altitude exercise like a hearty Swiss dog, and it was just the thing to replenish our weary bones.

If you've never experienced a Swiss hot dog, it's actually two dogs in one, and then some. Two lean, artfully-spiced veal dogs (think gourmet brat-fest, but more rustic...this is the "country paté" of hot dogs) share a bun in the form of a crackling French baguette (soft and rich on the inside, crisp and gilded on the surface). Right there, it scores high points from someone like me who spent part of my early years in Southern France, where bread is...well, a cut above anything we call "bread" around these parts. But the goodness doesn't stop there. The Swiss dog is enlivened with fresh, spicy sprouts, a good, strong country mustard and a curry seasoning.
The dogs alone are swoon-worthy, and enough to revive a weary soul on their own. But if you're a foodie, ask for a side of THE SOUP. Trust me. You'll thank me for the recommendation. The house soup, billed as "the mother of all soups", is all that and a bag of chips, as we say here in the US of A.
OK, so it's "just" chicken soup. Or so you might think. In reality, it's that ancient, home-brewed cure-all plus a hearty dose of the raw-food movement at its best.
The brilliant invention of proprietor, Ernst, this is a traditional, hearty chicken soup — complete with wheaty, oversized handmade noodles — is a walk into uncharted territory.
The real "secret ingredients"? See the first photo above. In that bowl rest the diced (and, yes, secret) "vegetables" that make up the best part of Ernst's truly brilliant, and quite possibly life-extending, concoction. Sprinkled on top of the hot soup, the fresh veggie and herb mixture retains its crunch and flavor. I've you've ever had Vietnamese Pho, you'll recognize the technique, and its merits. What's in there? On the menu, it just says "fresh vegetables". The garnishes are mint, cilantro and lime (brilliant!). But there's more than that to it. There are also red and green peppers and, I suspect, a touch of fresh jalapeño. My palate isn't good enough to dissect the rest...nor would I give away his secret if I knew. But you can feel the good health in every bite, and the flavors pop and sizzle like the most subtle and elegant of gourmet fare.
Yes, this is country food...hearty food. Restorative food. But it also has that extra something, that spark of real culinary inspiration.
There are a lot of exceptional restaurants in the Vail Valley. Of course there are. And there are several worth sampling. But as a longtime resident, let me just tell you that this is not one to be missed. My husband, who was for several years the culinary director of one of the valley's swankiest and most sought-after dining establishments, would tell you the same. It may be "fast food", but it's also an inimitable slice of history.
Oh, and...a little tip: if you have a moment, coax Ernst into telling you a few of his tales. Because aside from his culinary genius (he'll tell you he can't cook...hah!) this man is a treasure trove of amazing stories that will leave you dreaming of old Europe and the early, classic years of Vail. If you're a history buff, or just someone who appreciates a good story (and I definitely am!) you won't find a better cache of exotic, adventurous stories outside of Casablanca.
Born on the Swiss border of Northern Italy, Ernst has lived more places than I can dream of. Educated for a time in Paris, he went on to serve in the French Foreign Legion in Algeria. Should you have the time, he can also tell you of his mining days in Australia, of establishing ski schools in Victoria and Vail, as well as a book's worth of memories from his years of heading up the legendary Tyrolean restaurant (his baby) in the early days of Vail.
If Avon weren't so convoluted, I'd tell you how to get to Swiss Hot Dog, but the directions are beyond my powers of description. If you see Pi*r One Imp@rts, you're almost there. If you get to W@lm*rt, you've gone too far. It's not hard to find. And you'll be glad you made the effort.

...and another.

This is me at Bandelier. You can see the Indian dwellings in the background. This is one of my mum's favorite spots.

Another memory for the books

Here's another photo I love. This was on the tail end of one of our camping trips, wandering through Little Wildhorse Canyon on a hot Utah spring day.