![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Waterton Revisited; Ink
Monday I didn't just have an adventure; I had damn near a Perfect Day.
The plan was Waterton Canyon again, not because I couldn't wait to get back but because it's closing August 1 for two years. I invited Ryan, but he's busy trying to sell his condo while he moves back in with John; I know, he's worse than a chick. I think he's going to spend the rest of his life banging his head against John's wall. Whoops, just made a double entendre there.
So back to Waterton. It was as beautiful as I remembered it three weeks ago. Those bighorn sheep that were only blurry dots on my first photo series were now strolling up and down the road like hikers, almost close enough to touch.
The trip up seemed to take half the time without Ryan and his pit stops. Instead of turning around at the dam, this time I continued up the mountain. Again, pushing Rojo (Deer Creek flashbacks taunting me all the while), but not nearly as far. I reached the trailhead, where it continued on to the Colorado Trail for another ten miles. That way looked a bit more like Deer Creek, so I turned back.
This was the way up
And the way down. My choice was clear
I actually rode Rojo down a rocky incline that would have looked like a suicide mission if I hadn't seen Deer Creek in the interim. I let her take the rocks and bumps she was designed for, and it felt pretty good. I didn't go over the handlebars, at least. I was pretty proud of myself.
I was getting hungry so I stopped at this little picnic table on the South Platte for an energy bar. Not another soul in sight, and no sound but the rushing water. It was peace personified.
More Facebook style self-portraints
I was sad when I returned to the parking lot, ready to say goodbye for two whole years. Then I noticed a path exiting the lot from the opposite side, the path Ryan and I almost took mistakenly the first time. I figured it just led to nearby Chatfield Park, which is as large as and very similar to Cherry Creek, but decided to check it out anyway.
Boy, was I wrong. It does lead to Chatfield eventually, but before that was just pure FUN. All the fun that was missing from Deer Creek was evidently stored here.
What it led to was called the Audubon Discovery Loop, or something. In plain English, it was miles and miles and miles of dirt singletrack weaving through woods and meadows and alongside the South Platte. I never thought I liked singletrack, but that was based on one experience where it was full of lots of switchbacks (the trail cuts back on itself again and again in sharp, difficult to maneuver turns) and the path was literally only as wide as the tire.
This was gorgeous singletrack, only wide enough for one bike, but wide enough for a less experienced rider. It meandered through woods and underbrush, in some places so overgrown you couldn't even see the trail underneath, in others wide and clear where the biggest obstacle was piles of horse crap. Mostly level and non-strenuous, occasionally cresting over steeper embankments and down again, sometimes veering so close to the river that one wrong move would pitch you into the water.
YES
What does this remind me of? Oh right, New England. Without the 103% humidity
It felt like riding a rollercoaster, only I was driving. I felt Rojo's mountain bike heart swell with joy beneath me as we coasted over rocks and tree roots. THIS is the reason to own a mountain bike. It was challenging enough to give me a sense of accomplishment without ever making me feel like it was more than I could handle. Well, almost:
If I've learned one thing, it's that when they need to build something to make it usable for pedestrians, that's probably a good spot to turn around
Riding through the dense underbrush, couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, I broke through and suddenly saw the path ending here. Thank god Rojo's brakes are up to snuff
Stress doesn't exist out there. I spent about two hours in those woods, and never once thought about how I only have $22 until next payday, or all my medical bills, or anything; literally the only thing you CAN think about is which direction the path is turning and what you need to do to stay on it. Talk about clearing your mind -- it just happens automatically.
I also didn't see a single other person, which goes a long way towards my sense of peace.
If anyone makes plans to visit me at any point, better brush up on your biking skills, because a visit to this trail will certainly be on the agenda.
At one point the path suddenly became paved, and I felt resentment at this reminder of civilization. But I was also starting to get really hungry and thirsty, so thought I should head back. I had about half a bottle of water, but there are no filling stations out there and, contrary to Coors commercials, mountain streams and rivers are prime breeding ground for nasty bacteria like Giardia -- water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
Then I started having a bit of a problem. I had been riding pretty aimlessly, down whatever trail looked the most inviting. I had no idea how to get back, and my phone with GPS and Google Maps was in my glove compartment (lesson for next time). Emerging from the trees gave me a view of the mountains, which helped -- one of the things I love about Denver, it's impossible to stay lost as long as you can see those Rockies (if you're IN the Rockies it might be a different story). I eventually made it back (obvs), but it was a little touch and go there for awhile.
The good news is this trail will probably not be closed, since there's no getting heavy equipment in there. I hope it isn't, because I literally feel like I could ride nowhere else the rest of the summer and be perfectly content.
I got home, had a lovely lunch with a generous helping of sugary beverages (my body craves sugar something powerful after these rides), and a long, cool shower (my legs were so uniformly covered in dirt you could see my sock line as if it were a tan).
(Speaking of tan, this seems like a good place for a segue. I had all but finished the bottle of sunscreen I'd had for two years now (never got much use before this summer). That was SPF 50, which Tery mocked me enough for. When I shopped for a new one, they were fortunately on sale and I got a BOGO on a Banana Boat spray -- SPF 85.
Tery had some choice analogies for that. "SPF 85 is a flannel shirt. It's SPF Robert Smith. SPF 85 is sitting in your parents' basement playing Farmville." She can laugh. I'm not out there to get a tan. The sun's a killer these days.)
I thought this had been The Perfect Day. Then I decided to give this movie a try recommended by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
metatronis, Ink. Cut for heavy spoilers and length, but don't be fooled: this is my new favorite movie. When you come visit, expect to see this too.
Ink is...difficult to explain. It can be compared to many other movies, yet is different from any one of them. Donnie Darko, City of Lost Children, Neverwhere, Dark City, Pan's Labyrinth, even Amelie. It could have been written by Neil Gaiman. It could have been directed by Terry Gilliam. It was made on $250,000 (and shot mostly in Denver and surrounding areas, which I didn't notice before reading the IMDb page), has all no-name actors, and for this reason is amazing.
Humankind is influenced by two types of beings as we sleep: the Storytellers, who bring good dreams, and the Incubi, bearers of nightmares. The first look like normal (albeit very gymnastic) people. The Incubi wear all black and a screen over their faces, onto which is projected creepily smiling expressions that reminded me of The Gentlemen in Buffy.
The humans we follow in this movie are John and his daughter Emma. Unfortunately their wife and mother died in a car crash, which tore their family apart. John is a workaholic businessman, whose drug and alcohol problem led Emma's grandparents to remove her from his custody.
Emma is an adorable little girl who spends her days in a fantasy world, fending off imaginary monsters and choreographing elaborate melodramatic death scenes for her stuffed animals. She wants her father to play with her, but he just doesn't know how to. She pretends she's being dragged off by monsters, and he only reluctantly pretends to save her.
Ironically (but probably not), one night Emma's soul is kidnapped from her bedroom by the mysterious Ink, who is neither Storyteller nor Incubus. He's covered in tatters, his face obscured by a hood except for a very prominent nose.
The Storytellers try to fight for Emma, in a very exciting scene where furniture is smashed in the brawl and instantly restored (since the fight takes place on the dream plane), but Ink escapes with his prize, leaving her mortal body in a coma.
He leads her through different realities (where they are invisible to the people living there), until he is ambushed by Liev, a very powerful and beautiful Storyteller. She fights him, but allows him to subdue her and make her his prisoner as well. He's bringing them to The Assembly, which we eventually learn are the Incubi, who Ink is hoping to join, using Emma as a sacrifice.
Up to this point I assumed Ink was evil. That was before learning his name, which is of course the movie title. As soon as I heard Liev call him by name, everything shifted for me and I became more interested in him. Because they don't usually name movies after villains (except maybe Despicable Me. This movie is probably not like that one).
The Storytellers are trying to catch up with him. They meet the eccentric and infuriating Pathfinder Jacob, who is blind with his eyes covered by electrical tape. Jacob acts a little crazy, and I'm still not entirely sure what his purpose was in the movie (the smart asses among you might say, "Ummm, to find the path?" but nothing in this movie is that straightfoward) -- however, there's a scene in the middle where he talks about "the beat" and "the flow" of the world, and how they have to be interrupted to save Emma. He orchestrates such an interruption in a scene so gorgeously edited it's worth the purchase price alone -- a scene even people who hate the movie begrudgingly admit is pretty cool.
Because the most important journey of this movie is John's, Emma's father. His life is in pieces, and the Storytellers notice that he's surrounded by Incubi even while awake. "What does that mean?" one asks. "It means he's fucked," another answers. He is full of despair and regret, the preferred diet of the Incubi.
His father-in-law tries unsuccessfully to get him to go to Emma in the hospital, but John is still too bitter about the custody battle, and anyway is far too busy with work and arranging multi-million dollar takeovers. Jacob has to get John off his self-destructive path. So he "stops the flow" and sends John to the hospital.
It's now that we see John's life before. We see how he met his wife. We see Emma's birth. We see their perfect life together. And we see his wife die. We see him lose the custody hearing. And, much later I assume, we see John blow his brains out.
BIG SPOILER HERE, I'M NOT KIDDING: This is where we learn that John is Ink. His suicide stranded him on the dream plane in a hideously misshapen form, punishment for his vanity in life (explaining one seemingly unnecessarily lengthy scene of his meticulous morning routine earlier). He doesn't remember Emma is his daughter. As Ink he's offering her up to The Assembly to buy a position in their ranks, just as in reality he's sacrificing his relationship with her to his career ambitions.
Just before being killed by the Incubi, Liev gets him to remember who he is (there's rampant speculation at IMDb as to who Liev is supposed to be -- Emma all grown up? Or John's wife acting as his guide? Either way people seem to agree that her name spells "veil" backwards, and her death lifts the veil from his eyes so that can't be coincidence) in time for him to save Emma from the monsters, like he only did halfheartedly back in the beginning. And finally find his way to redemption.
Back in the hospital, John wakes up and, instead of trying to get to the crucial meeting to close his merger, he seeks out Emma, who wakes from her coma. He tearfully begs her forgiveness, and since she's still an innocent, unjaded child, it's given without question. The End
I abbreviated some parts because otherwise you'd have no reason to see the movie for yourself. And see it you should. It's an indie low budget, went straight to DVD, but I'd say is better than most of the movies that will be in theaters this year. The effects were impressive on so little money, the visuals dazzling and unique. My thought was "Finally, something NEW." But more importantly, the story is complex and beautiful, open to many levels of interpretation (most of which are being hotly debated as we speak at IMDb), including some pretty strong religious allegory without ever mentioning anything overtly. The two leads, Christopher Soren Kelly and Quinn Hunchar, really made you care about their characters. The music is haunting and deeply moving, not unlike the Amelie soundtrack.
Written, directed AND scored by Jamin Winans. Unless I'm very far off, he'll be going places, mark my words.
I can't even say how much I loved this movie, so if anyone sees/has seen it and feels otherwise, I'd rather not know about it. I freely wept at the ending, and announced to Tery that I might as well go to bed that instant (it was 7 pm) because I had had The Perfect Day and it just couldn't possibly get any better from there (I was right, but I stayed up anyway).
The plan was Waterton Canyon again, not because I couldn't wait to get back but because it's closing August 1 for two years. I invited Ryan, but he's busy trying to sell his condo while he moves back in with John; I know, he's worse than a chick. I think he's going to spend the rest of his life banging his head against John's wall. Whoops, just made a double entendre there.
So back to Waterton. It was as beautiful as I remembered it three weeks ago. Those bighorn sheep that were only blurry dots on my first photo series were now strolling up and down the road like hikers, almost close enough to touch.
The trip up seemed to take half the time without Ryan and his pit stops. Instead of turning around at the dam, this time I continued up the mountain. Again, pushing Rojo (Deer Creek flashbacks taunting me all the while), but not nearly as far. I reached the trailhead, where it continued on to the Colorado Trail for another ten miles. That way looked a bit more like Deer Creek, so I turned back.
This was the way up
And the way down. My choice was clear
I actually rode Rojo down a rocky incline that would have looked like a suicide mission if I hadn't seen Deer Creek in the interim. I let her take the rocks and bumps she was designed for, and it felt pretty good. I didn't go over the handlebars, at least. I was pretty proud of myself.
I was getting hungry so I stopped at this little picnic table on the South Platte for an energy bar. Not another soul in sight, and no sound but the rushing water. It was peace personified.
More Facebook style self-portraints
I was sad when I returned to the parking lot, ready to say goodbye for two whole years. Then I noticed a path exiting the lot from the opposite side, the path Ryan and I almost took mistakenly the first time. I figured it just led to nearby Chatfield Park, which is as large as and very similar to Cherry Creek, but decided to check it out anyway.
Boy, was I wrong. It does lead to Chatfield eventually, but before that was just pure FUN. All the fun that was missing from Deer Creek was evidently stored here.
What it led to was called the Audubon Discovery Loop, or something. In plain English, it was miles and miles and miles of dirt singletrack weaving through woods and meadows and alongside the South Platte. I never thought I liked singletrack, but that was based on one experience where it was full of lots of switchbacks (the trail cuts back on itself again and again in sharp, difficult to maneuver turns) and the path was literally only as wide as the tire.
This was gorgeous singletrack, only wide enough for one bike, but wide enough for a less experienced rider. It meandered through woods and underbrush, in some places so overgrown you couldn't even see the trail underneath, in others wide and clear where the biggest obstacle was piles of horse crap. Mostly level and non-strenuous, occasionally cresting over steeper embankments and down again, sometimes veering so close to the river that one wrong move would pitch you into the water.
YES
What does this remind me of? Oh right, New England. Without the 103% humidity
It felt like riding a rollercoaster, only I was driving. I felt Rojo's mountain bike heart swell with joy beneath me as we coasted over rocks and tree roots. THIS is the reason to own a mountain bike. It was challenging enough to give me a sense of accomplishment without ever making me feel like it was more than I could handle. Well, almost:
If I've learned one thing, it's that when they need to build something to make it usable for pedestrians, that's probably a good spot to turn around
Riding through the dense underbrush, couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, I broke through and suddenly saw the path ending here. Thank god Rojo's brakes are up to snuff
Stress doesn't exist out there. I spent about two hours in those woods, and never once thought about how I only have $22 until next payday, or all my medical bills, or anything; literally the only thing you CAN think about is which direction the path is turning and what you need to do to stay on it. Talk about clearing your mind -- it just happens automatically.
I also didn't see a single other person, which goes a long way towards my sense of peace.
If anyone makes plans to visit me at any point, better brush up on your biking skills, because a visit to this trail will certainly be on the agenda.
At one point the path suddenly became paved, and I felt resentment at this reminder of civilization. But I was also starting to get really hungry and thirsty, so thought I should head back. I had about half a bottle of water, but there are no filling stations out there and, contrary to Coors commercials, mountain streams and rivers are prime breeding ground for nasty bacteria like Giardia -- water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
Then I started having a bit of a problem. I had been riding pretty aimlessly, down whatever trail looked the most inviting. I had no idea how to get back, and my phone with GPS and Google Maps was in my glove compartment (lesson for next time). Emerging from the trees gave me a view of the mountains, which helped -- one of the things I love about Denver, it's impossible to stay lost as long as you can see those Rockies (if you're IN the Rockies it might be a different story). I eventually made it back (obvs), but it was a little touch and go there for awhile.
The good news is this trail will probably not be closed, since there's no getting heavy equipment in there. I hope it isn't, because I literally feel like I could ride nowhere else the rest of the summer and be perfectly content.
I got home, had a lovely lunch with a generous helping of sugary beverages (my body craves sugar something powerful after these rides), and a long, cool shower (my legs were so uniformly covered in dirt you could see my sock line as if it were a tan).
(Speaking of tan, this seems like a good place for a segue. I had all but finished the bottle of sunscreen I'd had for two years now (never got much use before this summer). That was SPF 50, which Tery mocked me enough for. When I shopped for a new one, they were fortunately on sale and I got a BOGO on a Banana Boat spray -- SPF 85.
Tery had some choice analogies for that. "SPF 85 is a flannel shirt. It's SPF Robert Smith. SPF 85 is sitting in your parents' basement playing Farmville." She can laugh. I'm not out there to get a tan. The sun's a killer these days.)
I thought this had been The Perfect Day. Then I decided to give this movie a try recommended by
metatronis, Ink. Cut for heavy spoilers and length, but don't be fooled: this is my new favorite movie. When you come visit, expect to see this too.Ink is...difficult to explain. It can be compared to many other movies, yet is different from any one of them. Donnie Darko, City of Lost Children, Neverwhere, Dark City, Pan's Labyrinth, even Amelie. It could have been written by Neil Gaiman. It could have been directed by Terry Gilliam. It was made on $250,000 (and shot mostly in Denver and surrounding areas, which I didn't notice before reading the IMDb page), has all no-name actors, and for this reason is amazing.
Humankind is influenced by two types of beings as we sleep: the Storytellers, who bring good dreams, and the Incubi, bearers of nightmares. The first look like normal (albeit very gymnastic) people. The Incubi wear all black and a screen over their faces, onto which is projected creepily smiling expressions that reminded me of The Gentlemen in Buffy.
The humans we follow in this movie are John and his daughter Emma. Unfortunately their wife and mother died in a car crash, which tore their family apart. John is a workaholic businessman, whose drug and alcohol problem led Emma's grandparents to remove her from his custody.
Emma is an adorable little girl who spends her days in a fantasy world, fending off imaginary monsters and choreographing elaborate melodramatic death scenes for her stuffed animals. She wants her father to play with her, but he just doesn't know how to. She pretends she's being dragged off by monsters, and he only reluctantly pretends to save her.
Ironically (but probably not), one night Emma's soul is kidnapped from her bedroom by the mysterious Ink, who is neither Storyteller nor Incubus. He's covered in tatters, his face obscured by a hood except for a very prominent nose.
The Storytellers try to fight for Emma, in a very exciting scene where furniture is smashed in the brawl and instantly restored (since the fight takes place on the dream plane), but Ink escapes with his prize, leaving her mortal body in a coma.
He leads her through different realities (where they are invisible to the people living there), until he is ambushed by Liev, a very powerful and beautiful Storyteller. She fights him, but allows him to subdue her and make her his prisoner as well. He's bringing them to The Assembly, which we eventually learn are the Incubi, who Ink is hoping to join, using Emma as a sacrifice.
Up to this point I assumed Ink was evil. That was before learning his name, which is of course the movie title. As soon as I heard Liev call him by name, everything shifted for me and I became more interested in him. Because they don't usually name movies after villains (except maybe Despicable Me. This movie is probably not like that one).
The Storytellers are trying to catch up with him. They meet the eccentric and infuriating Pathfinder Jacob, who is blind with his eyes covered by electrical tape. Jacob acts a little crazy, and I'm still not entirely sure what his purpose was in the movie (the smart asses among you might say, "Ummm, to find the path?" but nothing in this movie is that straightfoward) -- however, there's a scene in the middle where he talks about "the beat" and "the flow" of the world, and how they have to be interrupted to save Emma. He orchestrates such an interruption in a scene so gorgeously edited it's worth the purchase price alone -- a scene even people who hate the movie begrudgingly admit is pretty cool.
Because the most important journey of this movie is John's, Emma's father. His life is in pieces, and the Storytellers notice that he's surrounded by Incubi even while awake. "What does that mean?" one asks. "It means he's fucked," another answers. He is full of despair and regret, the preferred diet of the Incubi.
His father-in-law tries unsuccessfully to get him to go to Emma in the hospital, but John is still too bitter about the custody battle, and anyway is far too busy with work and arranging multi-million dollar takeovers. Jacob has to get John off his self-destructive path. So he "stops the flow" and sends John to the hospital.
It's now that we see John's life before. We see how he met his wife. We see Emma's birth. We see their perfect life together. And we see his wife die. We see him lose the custody hearing. And, much later I assume, we see John blow his brains out.
BIG SPOILER HERE, I'M NOT KIDDING: This is where we learn that John is Ink. His suicide stranded him on the dream plane in a hideously misshapen form, punishment for his vanity in life (explaining one seemingly unnecessarily lengthy scene of his meticulous morning routine earlier). He doesn't remember Emma is his daughter. As Ink he's offering her up to The Assembly to buy a position in their ranks, just as in reality he's sacrificing his relationship with her to his career ambitions.
Just before being killed by the Incubi, Liev gets him to remember who he is (there's rampant speculation at IMDb as to who Liev is supposed to be -- Emma all grown up? Or John's wife acting as his guide? Either way people seem to agree that her name spells "veil" backwards, and her death lifts the veil from his eyes so that can't be coincidence) in time for him to save Emma from the monsters, like he only did halfheartedly back in the beginning. And finally find his way to redemption.
Back in the hospital, John wakes up and, instead of trying to get to the crucial meeting to close his merger, he seeks out Emma, who wakes from her coma. He tearfully begs her forgiveness, and since she's still an innocent, unjaded child, it's given without question. The End
I abbreviated some parts because otherwise you'd have no reason to see the movie for yourself. And see it you should. It's an indie low budget, went straight to DVD, but I'd say is better than most of the movies that will be in theaters this year. The effects were impressive on so little money, the visuals dazzling and unique. My thought was "Finally, something NEW." But more importantly, the story is complex and beautiful, open to many levels of interpretation (most of which are being hotly debated as we speak at IMDb), including some pretty strong religious allegory without ever mentioning anything overtly. The two leads, Christopher Soren Kelly and Quinn Hunchar, really made you care about their characters. The music is haunting and deeply moving, not unlike the Amelie soundtrack.
Written, directed AND scored by Jamin Winans. Unless I'm very far off, he'll be going places, mark my words.
I can't even say how much I loved this movie, so if anyone sees/has seen it and feels otherwise, I'd rather not know about it. I freely wept at the ending, and announced to Tery that I might as well go to bed that instant (it was 7 pm) because I had had The Perfect Day and it just couldn't possibly get any better from there (I was right, but I stayed up anyway).
no subject
Your biking adventure seemed wonderful! Nonchalant bighorns and no humans! Perfect, indeed.
no subject
It's really hard to imagine anything topping it. It was just sublime.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Your pictures are getting better and better each trip. You make me want to take up this hobby just for the scenery and photo ops.
no subject
no subject
LJ can't handle my deluge of comment notifications anymore, evidently
Well thanks very much :) Though most of them look pretty mundane before I start playing with them in Photoscape.
no subject
I just watched it again while working on my costume, and noticed a lot of new things this time. I love those kinds of layered stories.
no subject
Sweet! I do too. I'll be sure and report back on the Blu-ray sitch, as soon as I have money again (rumor has it there's director's commentary, and I can't think of a movie I'd rather listen to it on).