1996 New Mexico trip
1/10/96
Here's the description of my best outdoor adventure of 1995.
Marsha & I flew to New Mexico July 2. Marsha refused to eat on the airplane because she was saving her appetite. We rented a car and immediately drove non-stop to Santa Fe for a wonderful, spicy New Mexican breakfast at Tia Sophia's. This was very satisfactory.
We spent most of the day with John & Linda, helping with trip preparations and watching Linda seam seal their tent. Big excitements. Marsha remembers that we also went downtown to the Plaza sightseeing and shopping. She found a pair of earings at Nancy Brown's, her favorite shop there.
We arranged to meet Norma for dinner. John and Linda joined us at a new restaurant suggested by Norma. After dinner we followed Norma through the maze of streets to her house for desert and a game of scrabble. I suspect that Norma is a closet ice-cream-aholic. She always serves several flavors of ice cream for desert. You can imagine how I enjoy that!! The scrabble game started late. Marsha was at a severe disadvantage since she usually retires between 7 and 9 pm. Sometime after 10, Marsha's body insisted that it was going to sleep. Norma is a very good player, so I was quite surprised to win the game by a single point.
Marsha fell in love with Norma's house. It is open and spacious with bedrooms on the second floor. It has balconies and good, cool breezes. (A relief from summer in the Midwest.) You can see the Jemez mountains and the lights of Los Alamos from the backyard patio. Norma's house is well protected by Bruno, her 120 pound Rotweiler. Bruno loves to be petted. If you pet him once, he insists on more petting. The trick then is to get his agreement to STOP the petting. No small trick against 120 pounds of insistant dog.
Sunday morning we were up bright & early. Norma fed us from a wide selection of health food cereals. Then we hustled over to John & Linda's to coordinate our end of the trip. We actually got on the road before noon. John joined us hiking up to Puerto Nambe. He brought in a heavy pack full of champaign and Marguerita mix. We ran into several light showers, each of which lasted only until we donned our rain gear.
As the third or forth shower started gaining intensity, Marsha fell off trail. She hit her knee and turned upside down before a sapling stopped her slide downhill. Since her feet were uphill and the pack was heavy, she was stranded just like an upside down turtle. We had just resumed hiking after a rest. John was far ahead of us and I might not have known of Marsha's delemna except for the dayhiking lady who ran uphill to inform me. I raced back and was greatly relieved to find Marsha upright and mostly intact. The husband had helped Marsha right herself, so I was unable to photograph the turtling. Her knee seemed ok, so we continued the hike.
We met John at the top of the final grade. By then Marsha was worn out, so I was shuttling both packs. We had discussed camping earlier, but Marsha had insisted on continuing to the "final" camp. She wanted to have a base camp instead of packing and moving daily. While waiting for us to arrive, John had found a snow bank and mixed Marguaritas. This he prescribed to remedy Marsha's fatigue. It seemed like a wonderful idea at the time. I even partook despite my general abstinence from alcohol. The alcohol didn't seem to affect me at all. Marsha turned euphoric and giddy. John departed to hustle downhill before dark. Ten minutes later Marsha crashed. Suddenly she was too tired to continue.
In retrospect, I realize that I made some pretty stupid decisions. Marsha said she was warm enough, so I told her to stay put and rest while I carried her pack ahead to look for a campsite. There were several inferior spots near the trail, so I dropped Marsha's pack when I found John's stash. I returned to Marsha quickly, expecting her to be recovered. Instead, she was unable to walk even thirty feet before becoming queasy and exhausted. She still wanted to arrive at our "final" camp, so I took my pack and scouted around for a suitable camp.
I knew that I needed to hurry, but our "final camp" needed to accomodate a substantial party of people and many tents. I knew that Puerto Nambe has a couple of fine, large clearings, so I wandered widely off-trail looking until I found a great spot. This took about fifteen minutes. I was anxious as I ran back down the trail for Marsha. This time It was I who tripped and fell flat. I knocked my breath away but was otherwise unhurt.
Marsha was gone!! Words fail to express my worry and consternation. Obviously she was befuddled. Obviously she was not well. I was stupid to expect her to stay put for twenty minutes. I reasoned that she could not have gone far and that she probably stayed close to the trail as I hurried first downhill then quickly back uphill.
When I found her, she was exhausted, queasy, cold and slightly disoriented. She desperately wanted the tent set up so that she could lie down and get warm. The tent was in my pack at the clearing, a half mile away, off trail and hard to find. Her sleeping bag was in her pack, near the trail and much closer. She needed to be warmed up quickly, so I ran off to get her pack. That done, I got her into her sleeping bag and decided where to pitch the tent. She was warmer and said she'd stay put, so I went for my pack. It did take a while to find it. Thankfully Marsha was still there when I returned. I set up the tent and got Marsha settled inside before dark. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. I was sure that she'd feel better after a good night's sleep.
That didn't happen. This tent site was inferior, in part, because it sloped a little and was not very flat. It was also only ten feet from the trail. Marsha's air mattress didn't satisfactorily cushion her from the lumps and bumps. Her excruciating headache persisted. She did not sleep well. In the early morning the first few hikers tramped through our front yard. We soon decided to look for a better, secluded campsite. When Marsha saw the clearing, she agreed that it was a lovely place to camp. We picked a flat & level spot at one end of the clearing close to a huge old pine.
Our rented tent was a free standing dome tent. We didn't have to collapse the tent to move it. We emptied and unstaked it, picked up the opposite corners and lifted. It retained its basic shape although it wobbled all over as we moved it, just like jello salad. The big challenge was finding a path through the forest wide enough for the tent. I thought it was a pretty slick move.
Our view from the tent door crossed a half mile of forest clearing before ascending steeply to the ridge top. To the left is a shallow valley that hides a small, spring-fed creek. Beyond that depression, Santa Fe Baldy rises abruptly, 1500 feet into the sky. This is one massive mountain sparsely adorned by brush and trees and boulders defying gravity to cling to its steep sides. The pine and spruce forest to the right of our tent site imparted a cosy green warmth. Unfortunately that was the only warmth.
The day was clear, cold and windy. We had an early morning visitor, a forest ranger with a llama. He provided us with information & history. The llama provided a sense of wonder. After they left, Marsha was "content" to sit in camp, nap and read. The original plan provided for horses/mules to pack in many of the party supplies. Unfortunately the Forest Service deemed the trail too wet for those animals. I had volunteered to help in their absense, so I hiked four miles back down to the parking lot.
Well, actually I met John and Doug close to the parking lot. Doug had "allowed" John to stuff additional things into his pack until it weighed nearly as much as John's back-breaking pack. We rearranged half of his pack and some of John's into my empty pack. Thus we achieved parity. Everyone was only slightly overloaded. Linda was still in town shopping for food after the last minute.
We drank a beer apiece and set off some fireworks. Doug's dog, Joshua, loves fireworks and tries to catch "them" after they've exploded. I will never understand the motivation of people who set off fireworks after trekking into the wilderness to escape civilization. Shortly after the fireworks, a woman hiker came down the trail, expressed her disapproval of fireworks and asked point blank if we had done it. I avoided her eye while John and Doug waffled. She noticed, asked why I was avoiding her gaze and reiterated her inquiry. I responded that I didn't set off the fireworks (true) and that I thought she was very attractive (also true). She immediately became somewhat flustered. After she left, John chuckled heartily about my "tactic".
The trail is certainly a pleasant one. An older couple in their eighties was coming out from their day hike as we rounded one of the first few switchbacks. These lower switchbacks are impressively improved. After those switchbacks, the trail climbs moderately, drops moderately and crosses four small streams. It stays in the forest on the hillside below the ridge top. There is not a lot of water in New Mexico, so there is not much wildlife. It is very relaxing to walk through these deep, quiet evergreen forests. The streams are a perpetual delight for me, these rushing, gushing, burbling mountain streams of cold, clear water. Two stream crossings are over logs and two require rock-hopping. I rue the wide spread of ghiardia that makes drinking untreated stream water unsafe.
Marsha was not much improved by her day of rest. Any small exertion (like walking) made her headache intense. We decided that she must be suffering through her first bout with altitude sickness. It has never bothered her before, even at higher altitudes in Rocky Mountain National Park. On the other hand, she was exercising more consistantly and sleeping better before those trips. She very earnestly stated that she was never going to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes again. This experience was excruciating. Never again.
Linda had not arrived as darkness approached. I took a flashlight down the trail to offer my pack animal assistance to her. I thought the flashlight held fresh, new batteries. I thought wrong. I enjoy the dark, so I usually walk without light. That works fine until I enter the deep forest. Then I have to use a light. Usually my flashlight batteries are old and weak. This time was no exception. You can get much better performance by switching the light on only briefly every dozen steps. That works fine unless there are obstacles such as rocks or roots. Crossing streams in the dark is always scary, with or without a light.
Before long I realized that I would have to drive back to town to get new batteries if Linda didn't have extra batteries. I also began wondering where she was. I expected to find her in the first half hour. After an hour, I was pretty far from camp. It was pretty dark and my batteries were pretty weak. Not a pretty situation. However the views were exceptional. The stars were bright and clear as you see them only far from civilization, high in the mountains. The lights of Espanola and Los Alamos twinkled in the distance far below.
Once or twice I thought I saw a light nearby on the mountainside ahead of me. Finally I was certain. When I came to the last stream crossing, I decided to wait for Linda. After all, I had seen her light. I waited. This stream crossing had the best "bridge", but I wanted to light the bridge for Linda from the uphill side. Where could she be? I waited some more. After ten minutes I crossed the stream. I followed the trail uphill and around a corner to a hitching post and corral and found Linda.
She was preparing to bivy. Her pack was heavy, she was tired, it was dark and the weather promised to behave well. She had seen my light also. Had stopped and waited also. Had wondered where I was also. We had stopped only 100 feet apart, but the trees and terrain and stream prevented us from seeing or hearing each other.
Being gentlemanly, I offered to carry her pack back to camp for her. She declined half of my offer. She kept the things she needed to bivy and let me take the rest in my empty pack. I offered to provide light to help her set up a tarp for shelter in exchange for fresh flashlight batteries. It was a good exchange for both of us, a win-win situation. Linda found a fairly flat, nearly level spot among some trees where she could fit her groundcloth, Therma-Rest mattress and sleeping bag. She strung some line just above the sleeping bag. She draped her poncho over that centerline and tied the corners to anything handy (like rocks or trees.) This provided a roof to keep the dew from wetting her sleeping bag. If it rained, she would have gotten wet because she had bivied in a slight depression. It didn't rain.
My stroll back to camp was even more pleasant and scenic than before. The stream crossings were still no fun. It was a bit of a challenge to find our clearing in the dark. There were still only three tents there. Where was the crowd I expected? Everyone else had already retired. Some party. I reported to Marsha that Linda had bivied. She reminded me to report to John too. I hadn't even noticed John's tent as it was tucked in among a stand of trees. This turned out to be a very smart move on John's part because it stopped the wind.
I was certain that Marsha would sleep well on this new, flat and level camp site. I was wrong. This time the problem was wind. Lots of wind. Strong, gusty winds. Our huge, roomy tent has large, vertical sides that flapped in those gusts. Crack, pow, flap, flap. Crack, pow, flap, flap all night long. We had trees behind us but they didn't stop the wind. The flapping tent kept Marsha awake and even hit the top of her head occasionally. I slept reasonably well. I love sleeping outdoors.
People started coming out of the woods early the next morning after John started the coffee brewing. All of them were looking for John & Linda's party. Emily had slept under a tarp tucked under a tree similar to Linda's bivy. Dave (?) and Tracy had slept in a smaller clearing on the other side of the trail. The minister was the most delighted to find us.
I think I ran down the trail to help Linda carry her pack to camp, but I don't really remember any more. I also have a memory of Linda hiking into camp cheerful and alert. I have a third memory of Linda saying that she didn't sleep well that night. Maybe I'll just have to ask Linda for the facts before she forgets them too.
Marsha's headache and altitude sickness persisted so she decided not to hike to the top of Santa Fe Baldy. She did manage to corral the whole herd of hikers for a pre-assention group photo. She assured us that she would enjoy resting in the meadow and tracking our progress with binoculars.
Another couple of people showed up very early. I assumed that they had camped nearby. Much later I was told that Sandra had hiked in from the Ski basin that morning. Ken and Roberto showed up shortly after the group started hiking up the mountain. As usual, I wasn't ready to leave, so I started last. I enjoy the exertion and challenge of hiking uphill, so I soon caught Ken & Roberto. They were enjoying the splendid views from the ridge trail above the tree line. As we approached the saddle, we met the minister. He has been living in Texas, far from the mountains, and was suffering a headache brought on by the altitude.
The views from the saddle are wonderful. Our tents looked smaller than postage stamps. Marsha was indistinguishably small. The two big meadows and the stream valley stretched westward into the forest until it fell away toward the desert. The green forest gave way to the reddish yellow of the desert valley where Espanola lies. The cut made by the Rio Grande is discernable in the distance. Beyond the Rio Grande, the Jemez Mountains rise high into the sky. To the east, the lush green highlands of the Rio Pecos watershed rise and fall and twist along with the river on its long journey towards the ocean. Southward, Lake Peak and Penitente fill the skies with their sharp peak and long, broad expanse respectively. There were still large snow fields filling the deeper ravines and sheltered spots, especially on the eastern side of Penitente. The bowl below Lake Peak attracted my eye most often.
The northern view climbed steadily up the slope of Santa Fe Baldy to the snow cornices just below the false summit. Several colorful dots were making slow but steady progress up the mountainside. These members of our party were already much higher than the last small grove of trees close to the saddle.
After our brief pause to enjoy the views, Ken, Roberto and I commensed our real exertion towards the top. We ignored the trail at first and merely angled steeply uphill across the mountain slope towards the other hikers. In fact we were below the trail at first and were forced to climb straight uphill to regain the trail. That is tough. I was very impressed with Roberto's endurance. The colorful dots soon gained size and distinguishable shapes as we neared the other hikers. They had all stopped to don more warm clothing to compensate for the cold winds at that elevation (12,000 feet). Because we are runners, Roberto and I were both able to stay warm through continuous, strenuous exertion. We passed the final group while they were trying to coax oxygen from that cold, thin air.
I was delighted to arrive at the summit first. After rejoicing for only a few seconds, I realized that I had gained only the false summit. The real summit was still a half mile farther. Thankfully that stroll was nearly level across the rocky mountain top. Vegetation there grows only a few inches high. It consists primarily of moss and lichens. Lichen come in an outstanding variety of colors - browns, greens, yellows, oranges and even black. Some tiny, extremely hardy flowers and grasses grow in isolated pockets of gritty dirt. The mountain peaks get lots of rain and intense, direct sunlight, but they are warm only occasionally when the wind stops.
We were not the first group to the top. Some other hikers were descending as we approached the actual summit. The highest point is marked by a huge pile of stones, a cairn. The views from the top are magnificent. All the features visible from the saddle are even more impressive when viewed from above because the backdrop is spectacular! Sixty miles beyond Lake Peak is the huge loaf of Sandia Peak east of Albuquerque. Halfway to Sandia, the Manzano Mountains shove their two short, sharp peaks to 10,000 feet from the desert floor. The eastern ridges beyond the Pecos River valley seem to ripple endlessly to the horizon. The light green highland meadows are quite lush against the dark green mountain forests.
Immediately to the north a huge snow cornice slopes steeply towards a 1500 foot drop into Lake Katherine. Beyond that Pecos Baldy and the several sharp Truchas Peaks were gorgeous as the bright sunshine lit the light dusting of snow that had fallen there overnight. This is special. When the eyes drop from those distant peaks, it keeps right on dropping and dropping into that cirque so far below where Lake Katherine and two smaller lakes lie. From that elevation one sees logs and rocks and sand distinctly in the translucent green waters. Those shallow yellows and greens gradually darken to black in the deeper spots. Some people get giddy looking down such steep drops.
The big meadows where we camped look much smaller and our tents were only the tiniest dots of color. More desert is visible to the west, but the view towards the Rio Grande and the Jemez seems unchanged. This is rather peculiar since the views in all other directions are radically different. I do wonder why the desert view doesn't seem to change. Perhaps it is due to the lack of distinct landmarks.
We found a slightly sheltered area among the boulders overlooking Lake Katherine. As each new member of the party arrived, I snapped a photo. Everyone looked very happy although several appeared to be very tired. If I were a better photographer, the pictures would be worth sharing. Alas, my photography is much worst than my writing. Many special treats were dug out of several packs and passed around. There were cheeses, salami and crackers, many wonderful chocolates and champaign.
After a brief, unsuccessful search for champaign cups, the cork was popped. It shot thirty feet and the champaign itself gushed out of the bottle like a small fountain. It was alarming to see all that beverage wasted, but some brave soul sacrificed their sobriety by lifting the foaming bottle to mouth. I do not exagerate. The bubbly stuff goes to the head much more quickly at that elevation after a hard climb. Frequent toasts were made and thanks given as the fifteen of us quaffed all three bottles of champaign. The recurrant theme of the toasting was to another great 10 years before the next party. Good spirits abounded. Speaches were demanded of John and Linda. They spoke of their appreciation, gratitude and optimism.
If it had been less windy we might have stayed on top all morning. It wasn't. We didn't. I dallied, soaking in those unforgetable views, thanking my creator for the marvelous gifts of health, friends and beauty. I took my time descending, pausing often to revel in the views. It is awesome to notice the changes a descent of fifty feet can make to those vistas. Several members of the party traversed to a snow field so that they could experience the exhileration of a high speed, quarter- mile slide. I was content to head straight toward camp picking my route down rock slides, around massive boulders and through the forest and shrubs as I neared camp.
Marsha had watched our antics through binoculars. She reported that Sandra ran down the mountain! Many more people had arrived at camp while we were partying up high. Steaks were cooked over an open fire and potato salad and cole slaw were prepared. It was a regular feast for all. The festivities and conversation lasted a couple of hours before the hikers began excusing themselves to return to civilization. By evening we again shared the meadow with only a few campers. This evening the wind was quiet and everyone slept very well.
"Nature called" in the pre-dawn twilight. Since I was well rested, I decided to hike up to the saddle to catch the sunrise. Soon after I left, Marsha awakened, felt better and also decided to walk up to the saddle. I saw her when she came out of the forest at the switchbacks. I waited for her and we enjoyed our pleasant morning hike together. However the sun was much quicker than we were. By the time we reached the saddle, the sunlight was pretty bright. Marsha was particularly taken with the beauty of the high mountain meadows.
John had coffee brewing and everyone was up by the time we returned to camp. Marsha and I were the only campers planning to stay put for another day. Everyone else struck their tents, packed their packs and moved out. Most returned to the Santa Fe Ski Basin to go home and back to work. Emily mapped a long adventurous hike. She makes jewelry on a small property which she owns (no mortgage), so she could afford the extra days. John & Linda planned to hike further into the "wilderness" to retreat a little farther from civilization for two more days. Marsha and I joined John & Linda on the first leg of their trip to Stewart Lake. John hoped to keep six unopened bottles of champaign cold and "safe" until he returned, so we stashed them in a snowbank and covered it with pine boughs.
Marsha was delighted with Stewart Lake. It is a typical small, high- country lake nestled into the surrounding mountains. We continued on downhill most of the way to Spirit Lake. Marsha and I turned back after wishing John & Linda a delightful retreat with good fishing at Johnson Lake. Fortunately Marsha's bout with altitude sickness was over and the return trip was without incident.
We had left the solar shower on a rock in the direct sun, so we were both able to enjoy a refreshingly warm shower after our hike. Marsha was delighted that the solar shower produced comfortably warm bathing water. I kinda enjoyed it too. Unfortunately I hung the shower on the shady side of the tree. Drying was pretty brisk. I had also forgotten a towel, so I air dried. That doesn't take long in an arid New Mexican wind. This evening we were alone in the meadow and slept very soundly.
We decided to day hike to the top of Penitente on Thursday. That trail is forested much higher than the other trails. We soon found ourselves skirting large snow drifts. We had to cross over the more extensive ones. This was July 6th. The snowpack on the eastern side of the ridge was a monster. I estimate that it was 100 feet wide and 20 feet deep where we crossed it. It was not possible to skirt it as it appeared to run the full length of the ridge, perhaps a mile. The crust had been glazed by the sun and was rather slick. Fortunately neither of us fell although we were both apprehensive. The slide wouldn't have hurt, but the rocky stop would have broken bones since the edge of the drift was steep and high.
We enjoyed a pleasant picnic lunch sitting on the grassy western slope of Penitente. Our scenery was a different view of the cirque below Lake Peak and a close up of its cliffs. We couldn't see the bottom of the valley below us because our picnic meadow slopes away more and more steeply until it comes to a sheer drop off cliffs similar to the ones across the valley. This viewpoint highlighted different features of the watershed leading to the desert and the Jemez Mountains.
As we were returning to camp, we discussed our return to Santa Fe. I had promised John that I'd pack out a load of community gear and trash. Marsha was looking forward to enjoying the comforts of the Buchser's home (i.e. a long, warm shower), so we decided to hike out immediately. I could carry a full pack of community gear and the champaign this trip, return, sleep overnight and pack out our equipment the next morning. We left one bottle of champaign in the snow bank for John and Linda should they return through Puerto Nambe. I wrote a note, stuck it on a branch and planted the branch in the snow bank so that its "roots" struck the champaign bottle. We also left a message on the signpost to Penitente warning hikers of the deep snow. It would be a hazard for John & Linda or any backpackers carrying a heavy load and planning to cross the knife edge to Lake Peak. (Knife edge is the correct description. You have to see it to believe it. You have to see someone cross it to believe that it can be done without fainting.)
Our hike out was much easier and better than the hike in. Marsha's knee seemed to be ok, the stream crossings were a little different due to log breakage, and we arrived at the car well before dark. Marsha assured me that she could find her way to John & Linda's and that she could return early to pick me up whenever I came out of the woods. However, I decided to drive her into town to be sure that she didn't get lost. That way she wouldn't have to wait for me in the cold at the ski basin the next morning. Of course it got dark while we were driving. Marsha was delighted with the evening spectacle of the lights of Santa Fe as seen from the ski basin road. On the return trip I delighted to see a herd of several elk crossing the road.
The trip back to camp in the dark seemed much longer. My flashlight batteries lasted. The stream crossings went ok. The stars and lights were even better than previously since I was in no particular hurry. I slept very well and awakened later than intended. It took longer to pack up and pick up. I even fluffed the grass. No, don't laugh. It helps the little grasses recover after being trampled. Life is tough and the growing season short at those elevations.
I expected Marsha to sleep deep and sound. She didn't. For some unknown reason, she was kinda hyper so she cleaned house until late. I know we went shopping, but that didn't leave any impression. Marsha did buy a print of fantastic storm clouds above an adobe hacienda from a gallery near the Plaza. I know we went to the Plaza and some event was going on .. Marsha says it was a Gay & Lesbian rally. I assume that we ate a meal or two a day at different restaurants. I know that I bought postcards but didn't have time to mail them. See how well I play tourist. It is interesting that I remember the hiking adventures in such lively detail and cannot remember a thing about time spent in town.
On Saturday we drove to Albuquerque to meet Marsha's dad, John Nash, at the airport. He flew in from Riverside, California. We drove on the old Turquoise Trail to Santa Fe to see the sights. We stopped first at the Loretto Chapel to indulge his interest in the staircase. (He formerly built staircases.) We walked across the street to the gallery where Marsha had bought her print. The elevation bothered him so that he was congested and couldn't walk far. We found drugs for that.
We drove back to Albuquerque where Marsha had reserved rooms at a superb bed and breakfast inn near Old Town (La Casa del Swenllos in Albuquerque.) John's stomach bothered him so that he needed a digestive enzyme supplement. It was late Sunday evening. The Wild Oats health food store was still open and carried the item he wanted. Marsha's dad retired early. Marsha and I walked to Old Town to see the sights and ate an excellent meal at the old hotel restaurant there. It was fancy and expensive and very, very good. Marsha also retired early after a pleasant day. I went for a late run and was astounded, amazed and delighted to run right by a little decrepit abandoned gas station. I had bought humorous scenic post cards of that gas station (entitled something like, "I've made a killing in real estate in New Mexico.")
In the morning we enjoyed the "ambiance" of the accomodations. The manager delighted in telling its history. It was an artist colony in the fifties. Each cottage is very different. Some have grape vines twining over trellaces. Ours had a waterfall in a rock garden. I particularly enjoyed writing postcards near the fall. Breakfast was a wonderful brunch including cantelope, french toast, OJ, etc.
We drove to Old Town for sightseeing and shopping. Marsha's dad decided that an inhaler might help his breathing, so I found a drug store. We definitely substitized the drug industry in New Mexico. I don't remember what else we did before, during and after dropping her dad at the airport. I vaguely think that we all went to REI. I also think that our flight left later the same afternoon. I dropped Marsha & her dad at the airport to wait for his flight so that I could stop in to see Judge Mechem. Marsha didn't want to come with me, so she missed the cake. One of Judge Mechem's law clerks was leaving and I was lucky enough to arrive in time for some going away cake.
When we called back later, John said that they never found champaign. They had come back, found my note and destroyed the snow bank looking for the bottle. They didn't find it. It may still be there.
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