POSTCARDS FROM COLORADO JUNE 22, 2005

Note: Click Here for a Photo Gallery of Eileen's Photos in Colorado.

Today was a deer and butterfly day. I hopped out of bed at 5:30 a.m. and by 6:30 a.m., Dave and I were off to Seedhead Road which was about 30 miles north of Steamboat Springs. The Elk River, flowing hard and fast, was on our left while the highway paralleled it. Out of the shadows on my left, I saw a Mule Deer doe, fully grown, leap out of the river bottom onto the berm--RIGHT IN FRONT OF US.

I was going 55 mph. I slammed on the brakes. Screeching tires, the smell of rubber, and fighting the wheel to remain straight while watching this doe coming right across our path, smashed my morning reverie. Things started to slow down and that's when I knew we were outside 'reality'. This always happens when some higher power intervenes either on for or against you. I could feel the rubber biting savagely into the asphalt. I was keeping the car straight. I pulled to the left, across the yellow line, in order to try avoid hitting the doe. I was watching her; as if watching this whole scenario in pieces. I saw her huge, dark brown eye looking directly at me as she ran directly in front of us. My eyes locked with hers. We were so close. I remember jamming my foot down even more on the brake. I knew we were going to hit her...

Things continued to slow down to movie picture frames. I just remember more than anything else: I did NOT want to hit ANY deer--EVER. I have deer medicine. I didn't want this beautiful brown and white coated doe who was fully mature, graceful and breathtaking so close, to die. My lips clamped. My arms jammed against the wheel.

The scream of tires continued. Everything was so long and drawn out. There was no reason not to smash into her; she'd run straight across the 2-lane highway, never once swerving or trying to dodge our car. It was as if she didn't know the car could kill her...

I watched her run past the center hood of the car. I thought: "OH, God, we're gonna nail her hind end..." And then, in a flash, we saw water sprinkling over our car window, and the doe missed us by INCHES. We sat anchored and still on the highway, alone, gasping and our jaws dropping. We should have hit her. She'd come out of the river bottom, soaking wet. And she was close enough to our car to have the water from her sleek coat sprinkled all over our windshield. Explain THAT ONE...

I shakily got the car going again, gun shy of other deer coming up and out of the river area to cross in front of us to go to higher ground and sage brushed flats to sleep the day away. I kept telling Dave: we should have hit her, but we didn't. I know we were taken out of time to AVOID the collision. I breathed deeply, saying thank you over and over again to the Great Spirit and thanked the Deer Nation once more. I received deer medicine in Gray Eagle, California, one misty summer morning up on the trails at 5:00 a.m., just as dawn was coming. I was alone, back packing, and there for spiritual healing. I had trudged up this wide, hard packed yellow earth trail. At the top, I jerked to a halt. There... right in front of me and less than an arm's length away, were five deer--all does--standing around the path.

They looked at me with kind eyes. They were not afraid of me in the least. I held my breath, unable to believe five deer were milling around me, absently flicking their white and brown tails, nibbling at bits of grass and absolutely unconcerned I was a human being who might hurt them. But they knew. They knew I was here as part of them, a part of 'all our relations' and they knew I was not their enemy. They all came up and looked at me, smelled me and I could have reached out and ran my fingers across their shining coats--but I didn't. I was too stunned by this meeting to do anything except be a grateful observer. I began to cry. They looked at me with such gentle, understanding eyes. They continued to walk around me, as if to say: "It's all right. You are one of us. Do not be afraid. All will be well...."

That was the day I received deer medicine. Since then, deer have been an active, healing part of my life. And to even THINK of striking a deer and possibly killing it--well, you might as well kill me. I just wouldn't--couldn't--do it. As I continued to drive toward Seedhead Road to find the South Fork hiking trail, I kept thinking of that day almost 12 years ago. So much had changed in me, so much more to do. Healing was an ongoing process that was never done. Deer medicine was in my face, there was no question.

We turned onto Seedhead Road. I was wary now, at 7:00 a.m. in the morning, of other deer bounding up in front of me. Dave was watching, too. I rounded a curve on the Elk River and there was along, wide swathe of sagebrush on the right. Dave yelled and said, "Two deer on the right!" I instantly braked. What we didn't see was a third one that was down below us and he popped up right in front of the car. I couldn't believe it! All three deer ran quickly across the road for higher ground. I just shook my head. Two close calls--but this second one, because we were on guard, didn't even begin to compare to the first meeting.

I was so glad to get to South Fork and put on my hiking gear it wasn't even funny. There was a large meadow, flower strewn, ahead of us and white barked, spindly aspen, in the distance. The day smelled young, fresh and earthy. I hoped we would meet a deer--a third chance encounter--and this time, I'd have my camera ready. It was early in the day and the deer were finishing up their eating and going home to sleep throughout the day.

The moment we started through the wide, lush meadow I found Prairie Smoke (Geum trifolium), her cute little pink heads popping up out of the grass. Then, Deers Ears. How appropriate. They are a white flower with green speckles on a towering spike that can reach nearly ten feet tall when they are mature. Things got even better when we climbed the wide, smooth beginner's trail into the Aspen groves. On top, we found lovely purple and white Colorado Columbine, the state flower. Further, we found a small pond. And in that pond was Spatterdock or what is known as Yellow Pond Lily. That was a find!

We got eat up by mosquitoes to get these photos! The trail, this time, was wide and fairly smooth; nothing like Fish Creek Trail. We went 1500 feet gradient over 3.32 miles. We hiked half way around a mountain that was 9800 feet tall at its base. Up on top, we found a beautiful small lake with a beaver house at one end of it. The view from up there was spectacular! We at lunch, gave gifts of Fritos, cookies and some of our sandwich to the spirit of the area. There's plenty of little chipmunks around who will find the fare sooner rather than later.

Coming back down, we detoured down a hill to the Elk River. There, in a small muddy area where a tiny trickle of water winded through was all kinds of butterflies! There where white and black Swallowtails, yellow and black ones, Painted Ladies and a dazzling blue butterfly. I spend many minutes and probably 50 photos to catch them or hope for a couple of good shots out of all of them.

All the way back, we had butterflies. Deer and butterflies. Deer symbolize emotions, intuition, learning to be graceful and in sync with the world. Butterflies were always a sign of transformation.

Yes, we almost had transformation out on that highway at 7:00 a.m. this morning! I see by the astrology of the day that Moon was square Mars at 7:30 a.m., so that's a ripe aspect for accidents. We damn near had one. Fortunately, we got lifted out of time, things slowed down and the doe was allowed to live another day. It wasn't her time to go, nor was it ours. I love how our guides for all of us interceded to make that sure-accident not happen. A magical day.

We hiked 6.75 miles today and our knees and feet weren't pounded into hamburger as they were on the Fish Creek Trail. But then, South Fork is a beginner's trail and Fish Creek is rated the highest as "difficult." We arrived back into town to eat at the Egg and I for lunch. I had a tuna melt drizzled with sharp cheddar cheese and I wolfed it down. Then, I went shopping for some last minutes gifts for friends and family. That's always fun. Of course, I bought something for myself, too.

At 4:00 pm Dave took me over to the Rocky Mountain Wellness Spa for my second appointment with magic hands, Carrie. This time, I was getting foot reflexology for 45 minutes. First, she cleaned my feet with a scrub, the gritty stuff feeling wonderful on my poor little trail weary soles. Then, hot towels. Ahhhhh... life was good... Then, Carrie began the reflexology; the pin pointing of certain areas on the toes, ball and sole of the foot. If there is something wrong, sluggish or needing stimulation, that portion of your foot will be tender or when she presses inward, hurt like hell. I figured that my feet would let me know what kind of shape I was in. I almost fell asleep because the only place they hurt was the thyroid area which figures. Otherwise, super healthy. I was happy with that!

At 5:30 pm we had a reservation at the Ore House which, several locals told us, had the best food in town. Well, having been at Harwig's twice, we reserved the right to decide if the Ore House had a leg up on them or not. I found on their menu, Elk loin. Now, I was raised on deer meat and a little elk, so finding it was a great. I ordered it medium well and the waitress tried to tell me it should be medium rare. I told her I wanted the cook to make it medium well. The bread basket came. There were some novel cinnamon rolls (warm) which showed some creativity. Then, there was a clunky 'other' roll that I would probably feed to my dog. The service was quick and efficient. I ordered a glass of chardonnay and they had a salad bar, so we helped ourselves. There was this one guy in line in front of me and I swear, he took something from every jar--and there were 30 jars. So, I switched sides and beat him done. Why does someone take ONE of EVERYTHING on a very small plate which is obviously not designed for that much food. Did he starve when he was young? Did he take it because he felt entitled (it was his money, after all, spent on this meal)? Or was it pure gluttony? I almost asked him why, but I let my curiosity over this interesting anomaly slide. I'd had enough excitement for one day. Besides, he looked like the type that would take my question as an attack. Some people you just leave alone....

My elk arrived and I cut into it--the center was BLOODY. That was NOT medium well. I told the waitress to take it back. You know, I have a real beef (pardon the pun here) with chef's who think you ought to eat your meat bloody because it's the right way to eat it. And if I give explicate instructions that I want my meat medium well, it had better come out like that. The waitress apologized and took it back. I dug into Dave's BBQ pork ribs, nibbled on some nicely steamed broccoli, carrots and cauliflower.

When my elk arrived a second time, it was done like it needed to be. And it was just as moist and tender--there's a fallacy that game meat should be cooked rare. Baloney. I was raised on well done venison the first 18 years of my life and it tastes fine. The ligon berry sauce that goes over the elk was very sweet and tart; adding a nice touch to the meat.

I gotta say that the Ore House does not stand a chance against Harwig's. It's a '3' and Harwig's is a '5' (in my world, a '5' is top or best). And I inquired about their fruit cobbler, because I love fresh, homemade cobbler--come to find out it is frozen fruit.

Bleah. No thanks. So, we drove over to Ben and Jerries and I got ice cream for dessert instead! Yum!

All in all, an interesting day of deers and butterflies...

Warmly,
Eileen

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