2025...but did you die?
Wobbly 60th
I am completely at a loss to explain why Stand Up Paddleboarding (SUP) has come to exist. Well-designed canoes have existed for a hundred years with a sleek hull and keel to instill confidence. Every paddle stroke moves you forward effortlessly. On the contrary, paddling a SUP is like rowing a floating bathtub with a tennis racquet. Who would want to replace a Rolls Royce with a horse drawn buggy and an extremely ornery horse. Worse, if I fall off my half-submerged bathtub, according to the safety brochure, I will drown in the sea watching my craft (and pride) float downwind.
Unaware or unconcerned with my opinion, for my 60th birthday, Jody signs us up for a weeklong SUP camping trip in Norway. Jump forward to July 2025 and I’m now floating on the Sognefjord, one of Norway’s longest and deepest fjords. My signature on the robo-agreement proclaims that: I “LOVE TO SUP,” am highly experienced at SUPPing; and can swim ten (10) miles in rough seas. Welcome to my life. While it lasts anyway.
As we launch from shore, imagine not gorgeous bodies prancing in sunshine as shown on the SUP brochure. Instead, visualize a dozen travelers soggy and tired from the previous evening. Everyone wobbling on their SUP like Rose Dawson on the floating door after the sinking of Titanic. The spectacle is a bit daunting. To help explain this state of affairs, I need to recount the prior night. Jody booked our first night in a cabin because of a very high chance of rain in Norway. Predictably, shortly after reaching the campground, it commenced raining. Hard, wet and cold. We look forward to enjoying our dry cabin to organize gear and enjoy a peaceful night of sleep.
We are nestling snug in OUR cabin when a figure approaches. Lori, the same Lori that invited us on this SUP trip, knocks on our door. She asks demurely if we would be willing to share our cabin with her and Lee for the night. We politely (and ever so naively) agree. Lori was our very good and trustworthy friend until this night.
The cabin sits next to a breathtaking waterfall. The valley is bathed in a gentle soothing melody as the waterfall splashes down. A fine mist dances in the soft light of the midnight sun. I’m sleeping blissfully to this melodious music when I hear the “Brapppity Brap Brap” of a chainsaw chattering in the room. I bolt upright and smack my head on the top bunk while reaching for a weapon to defend myself. I fumble for the light switch in wild eyed panic, to find…Lori and Lee snuggled together on the king bed (which Jody also bestowed to our “guests”) with their fancy schmancy “white noise machine” blasting chainsaw massacre at ear splitting volume.
Lori and Lee snore happily, completely isolated from sensory input. They each sport noise canceling earplugs and eye masks and are apparently conditioned to the acoustic assault of this outrageous “white noise” machine. They are oblivious to the device vibrating their night table like a 2-stroke engine without a muffler. To attempt to get some sleep I relocate to the outside porch and curl on the Adirondack chair. I have only a plastic tarp and my woobie for warmth. Did I mention this is my 60th birthday?
Norway Nirvana
Jody (also known as “Ms. Adventure” or alternatively “Misadventure”) wasn’t going to let a trip pass without a bike safari and was able to convince most of our SUP brigade to continue on a two-week self-supported ride around the wild fjordlands of Norway. Thus, in addition to being able to swim ten miles in rough seas, everyone also needed to have the ability to pedal two solid weeks (in the rain) on rented bikes laden with full panniers. In case you were curious, nobody in the party had ever toured on a bike before this trip. Even SUPPing and biking wasn’t enough adventure, so along our way Jody planned for a few days scaling famous Via Ferrata routes. 
Our bike panniers are stuffed. Hurricane rated rain gear topping 2 weeks of clothing, climbing helmet-harness-carabiners-webbing, and lots of snacks.
Our bikes carry enough gear to outfit a Himalayan expedition. Denying this reality, Ms. Adventure insists everyone limit their personal gear to minimize the weight burden impacting our pedaling for the next 2 weeks. Her introductory telecons explained what NOT to bring. Lively debate developed from her “wash and wear” guidance suggesting restriction to a single pair of undies. Everyone mutinies on this count. Except me. Firstly, because I’m married to Ms. Adventure. Secondly, like Honey Badger, I don’t give a sh&t. I do support her permanent prohibition on noise machines.
One of the most concerning elements of Jody’s bicycling plan was climbing the legendary Trollstigen pass: 4 miles long, 10 percent incline, 11 hairpin bends, 3,000 feet of altitude gain. This pass was closed the entire previous year due to landslides and just before we started our bike trip, we hear the pass has closed AGAIN because of a new rock fall. We continue forward hoping for some good luck but our collective optimism crashes as we approach the headwall to see a barrier of flashing police lights.
Out of curiosity, we pedal past the idling cars to reach the police barrier. When a policeman approaches, Jody unleashes her flowing blonde tresses, flutters her eyes, and demurely asks, “Surely bicycles can pass?” Spellbound the officer responds, “I think you can make it through on your bicycles.” Miraculously we enjoyed this fantastic road without any cars. The entire trip is blessed with good fortune, sunshine and tail winds. Our final morning before flying home, we find outside our room a present from Lori. The box read “To Seth”. Inside we find a bow fastened to Lori’s baseball cap. Given my marriage to Ms. Adventure, this is a hat I’ve envied since the first time I saw Lori wearing it. The brim reads, “...but did you die?”
Sunscreen Blues
Jody grew up well before sunscreen was invented. A pale blonde girl living wild and carefree on a high-altitude Colorado ranch. Some years ago, a dermatologist discovered precancerous lesions on her face and she suffered through a chemical peel that would have frightened Freddy Krueger. After spending three solid weeks in Norway’s 24-hour sunshine, she schedules an appointment with the doctor. Thankfully no signs of skin damage, but she then asks the doctor if he can do something about her age wrinkles. He rubs his hands together enthusiastically and extols the clinic’s aesthetic unit which can turn back time with selected nips and tucks.
She asks for a quote. Holy Cinderella Batman! The quote is so outrageous that I break into sweat just recalling it. Jody unfortunately remains intrigued by the chance to become a time traveler. Marriage experience dictates that arguing won’t work, but flattery? I clutch Jody’s hands, stare lovingly into her eyes and whisper, “You are stunning and should never hide the character and wisdom your face displays.” She falls for it! At her next visit, the dermatologist asks if she wants to book an appointment for “aesthetic dermatology.” The doctor chuckles when Jody responds with enthusiasm, “Seth likes my wrinkles and I’m planning to keep them.” Whew!
Chess Prodigy
We just enjoyed Thanksgiving week in Moab UT with the Furtney family. None had ever visited the region, so we spent the week showcasing the beauty of the nearby National Parks with the La Sal Mountains as a majestic backdrop. This outdoor splendor nevertheless pales next to the drama of the chess match between my brother Dave and Jody.
Dave is a chess wizard who plays a dozen chess matches at a time…blindfolded. After losing countless games to him growing up, I stopped playing chess with him…FOREVER. Even though she hasn’t played in 30 years, Jody thinks she has a shot. I get a sense of foreboding when she asks how each of the pieces move.
When Dave sets up a game with his trusty chess set, he discovers that a black knight, rook and a pawn are missing (not my doing, but I’ll definitely remember the idea). No matter, he accepts this as a handicap. They begin the game and in a short five minutes, he captures several of Jody’s pieces. Jody then declares that he must tell her if any move she is considering is “really bad.” Despite this backstop, she promptly loses several more pieces. I start serving stiff gin and tonics to help reduce the level of tension in the room. This doesn’t go well, especially for Jody. Jody’s game proceeds downhill rapidly. I try to distract Jody from the humiliation (an experience I well recall), by whispering, “I love you and your wrinkles.”
Map Challenged
Our family loved the trails in Moab…once we were able to find them. We were visiting Dead Horse Point, known for crags where horses trying to reach the Colorado River below would fall to their deaths. Something I don’t want to experience. Despite being map-challenged, Jody is convinced that her location finding abilities are nearly perfect. Right until she walks off a cliff. Jody leads off from the visitor center on the rim trail with majestic views of the Colorado River canyons. After a short 100-yard stroll along the trail she checks her map and declares we are walking in the wrong direction. Everyone gathers and reverses course. After 200-yards travelling in the other direction, she again stares at her map and declares we’re walking in the wrong direction. In response to your unstated question, yes there are only two directions. We are skeptical about this reversal of the reversal but, off we go… again. After traveling 300-yards in our original direction, Jody hollers again. The group mutinies. Sound familiar?
Then There Are Two
We spend more time than we’ll ever admit cooing over our kitten, Maximilian. Our friend Mary, professional feral cat trapper, spies opportunity and suggests that Maximilian needs a baby sister. She remarks casually that she has a friend, who knows a guy, whose cousin’s sister’s nephew has a kitten, that needs a loving home. We agree to temporarily foster. In a glorious foster fail, Luna joins our family. Luna and Maxi are now bosom buddies. Their toys are strewn all over our house. We hear Luna’s rooster toy squawk “ka-kaw” as she bats it around. With Luna purring between us in bed, Maxi “yeowls” trying to find her. It’s a perpetual noise machine. I do everything I can to prevent Jody from visiting the pet store alone because she has zero self-control in the kitty toy aisle. This is my life.
Work Adjustments
Jody’s company, Mr. Cooper, was acquired this year by Rocket Mortgage and she has been helping combine their originations and servicing operations. When it’s all settled, Rocket Mortgage will be the largest mortgage company in America. She’s excited by all the possibilities. I care for Jody, am the official cat herder, and involved in local advocacy. I began learning to weld this year and with skills yet developing, do find my gifted art pieces migrating from friends…to the local thrift store faster than you can say “abstract scrap metal.”
We delight in writing this annual letter each year and hope you enjoy it. Please enjoy our smilebox of Norway. If you ever find yourself in our neck of the woods, I’ll be glad to make you a gin and tonic.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Seth, Jody, Maximilian the Mountain Lion (MTML), Luna the Little Leopard (LTLL)
11 Molas Drive, Durango, CO 81301
Jody Cell Phone: 970-385-5567 / Seth Cell Phone: 970-385-5547
Email: jodyfurtney@hotmail.com
Jody
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2024 - We don’t know why the right road cannot find us, but we sure have fun on the wrong ones!
Ghastly Garmins
Long-term recipients of our holiday letter have endured stories year over year recalling tales of us being lost somewhere. We blame dated maps, changing terrain, unreadable signs, weather gods. Anything but ourselves. These tidings offer our admission that I’ve uncovered the common element connecting all of our lostness…Jody. Jody is the One.
For our bike trip through Portugal this year with five of our besties, Jody decided we would not get lost. She embraced a surefire solution founded upon robust technology, the Global Positioning System or GPS. You have heard of Google Maps? It works great, but to some drivers’ horror, still occasionally routes a semi tractor trailer onto an impassable steep 4-wheel drive narrow mountain road.
The tour company from which we rented bicycles provided Garmin GPS navigators for each rider. This gadget shows your precise location on a map of surrounding roads. It beeps and displays an arrow pointing when you need to make a turn. It tells you the total number of kilometers on your route and the kilometers remaining. It was even rumored to massage your feet at the end of your ride. Guaranteed (as seen on TV), that you cannot get lost with one of these things. Let alone seven of them.
Well, we got lost. Like, not just one time, but several times a day. Every single day. Bicycle travel in Portugal meet your fallible GPS algorithm. Each morning, our group would start our Garmins and you could hear electronic gears engaging as satellites rotated into orbit and route vectors tabulated. We check that are shoes are properly laced and are off like a herd of turtles.
We would start each day rolling down a picturesque cobblestone lane. Very shortly thereafter began a confusing cacophony of digital beeps & agitatedly blinking lights. At an intersection, everyone would veer in a different direction and the comparatively mild digital sounds and lights would be overrun by the sound of tires skidding and car horns blaring. Our group would be in complete chaos not a mile from the start of our ride.
There is no convincing reason that seven identical new GPS units would deliver seven different answers with clear skies and full batteries…except Jody. Her power to MISnavigate simply overrides even the best technology available.
We eventually settled into a rhythm, albeit with a hitch in our giddy up. The only foolproof technique we could find was for each person in line to hold onto the next person in line. We drew many curious stares from locals but after donning matching dark glasses, found we would be dismissed as a troupe of blind bicyclists. Garmin beeps serving as our white canes. We would only “release the leash” once we reached our quarters each night to toast the day, drink superb inexpensive wine, eat sumptuous food, and massage our arms, sore from holding onto our tethers all day long. In this manner, we rode through hundreds of kilometers of country vineyards, cork forests, and quaint villages. We don’t know why the right road cannot find us, but we sure have fun on the wrong ones. Enjoy the smilebox of Portugal!
Conversation Stopper
We have all had the experience of hearing a young child say something in public that is entirely inappropriate. Most of us have covered our smile, when a three-year-old repeats a cuss word they have heard, but hopefully do not yet understand. As we mature, most of us learn to abide by certain “rules of civil society” and not say certain things to strangers. Nonetheless, there is often a fine line between witty and cringeworthy. Occasionally my filters get clogged.
A common question at a party where you don’t know people, is “How do you know so and so?” I decided to switch it up at a recent housewarming party hosted by our close friends. Chatting with strangers, I responded to their polite question about how I knew the hosts, by answering “We think I may be the father of their son.”
Conversation stopped abruptly. Eyes darted furtively. Expressions were a mix of anxious and confused, conveying, “WHAT did he just say???” Except Jody, who is sitting beside me. The sip of wine she has just imbibed is now exploding profusely out her nose. I casually stroll away to grab a Kleenex for Jody and another beer for myself.
Fresh Waffles
We recently made fresh waffles for breakfast for our guest Lori and were enjoying the repast with creamy melted butter and fresh maple syrup. Lori took a bite, spit it out in disgust, choking and gagging, face askew, eyes bugging out, drooling spittle onto the floor.
Lori has used margarine on her waffles. Who the hell would select margarine over butter? Unfortunately for her, she discovered the secret space in our refrigerator (a cubbyhole tucked behind the box of baking soda) just large enough for a small tub of margarine to hide. One might think the vintage margarine container would tip you off that something is wrong. Or noticed a waxy blue glow to the margarine. But no, apparently margarine eaters can’t distinguish colors that well.
The container slithers along the floor trying to avoid being captured but is finally bagged and tagged by the city’s biohazard tech. This well-established colony of bacteria, this settlement of microorganisms, has been developing for over 20 years and proved surprisingly vibrant since our guest endured her breakfast not once, but twice. The essential lesson I took from this event is that baking soda works extremely well absorbing odors.
Sharks in the Water
Belize has a remote island filled with incredible creatures flying in the air, swimming in the sea, scampering and slithering across the land. After arising from our tent each morning, we fill our mugs with freshly brewed coffee and with ocean waves as our soundtrack walk to the bird tower where Red-footed Booby’s nest in the treetops. The sandy path through the jungle moves organically with hundreds of hermit crabs huddling back into their shells as we pass. At treetop level, we observe the Booby birds puffing their red chests and sparring with the pterodactyl-like frigate birds.
Each day, we embark on a tantalizing snorkel exploration straight out of the Nemo movie. At one point while “sailing” our sea kayaks a mile away to a neighboring island, we had a fright. We are novice sailors. Meaning we barely know how to hoist the sail. Forget about knowing how to sail. Little did we know that novices like us are also known as “shark bait.” We are as far from land as you can get, dead center between the islands, when our guide calls out that there is a large hammerhead shark in the water. Really! How is this supposed to be helpful? My first thought is how big? My second is recalling the theme music to Jaws.
That is just about the time a gust of wind topples one of our kayaks. No shit. I often like to imagine how to best respond in difficult situations. Not this time. Not with a hammerhead shark nearby. Not 1/2 mile from shore. I am highly motivated to avoid becoming fish food. Thankfully, the shark must have been on his veggie diet that day. Enjoy the smilebox of Belize!
Jumping Bicycles
We finally tested our mettle on the downhill bike park course at Durango Mesa Park. Carefully avoiding expert bikers who fly over jumps in style, we barely clear the ramps and meekly roll down the drops. Jody pulls aside a large jump and begins taking photos. She captures an awesome image of a cyclist sailing through the sky with the snow covered La Plata Mountain range framed perfectly under his bicycle. Minutes later, she graciously offers to share the image with him. He is tremendously appreciative and only barely tolerable because of his youth, he thanks her by stating, “I wish MY grandma would come out here and take pictures of me.” Ouch! You little pubescent rat!
Kit Kats
We were devastated when Thomas the Tom Kat (TTTK) passed away last December. We found him as a baby 16 years ago and he left a gaping hole when he passed. We would find kitty tracks in the snow this past winter and wonder if he was still watching over us.
He must have been because this spring through a chance encounter with a neighbor and a series of small miracles, we were introduced to Maximilian the Mountain Lion (MTML). He came to us by way of an Indian reservation in Gallup, New Mexico via a Humane Society shelter in Shiprock to Erin with Durango Animal Connections to our home. He was a tiny orange orphaned kitten that snuggled up on Jody’s chest purring enthusiastically. She fell in love with this 2 pounds of furball.
He doesn’t think he’s that small. Often leaping at us from behind furniture trying to take down his prey, he’s clearly practicing lessons taught in his mountain lion school. His toys are strewn throughout the entire house because he has not yet learned to keep them in his toybox. Yeah, he has a toybox. When he is not playing, or purring, or sleeping, he helps us heal. Thank you, TTTK. You were perfect. MTML is perfect. Vaya con Dios.
Life in Durango
Jody continues as a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives with Mr. Cooper. She is program managing a new initiative to reimagine the company’s sales platform. She finds it interesting. exhilarating and intense. I take care of her and the household. We were thrilled to be able to help the Soil Outdoor Learning Lab, https://www.soillab.org/, this year to build a Grow Dome for kids to learn about plants and science. My latest endeavor is being on a citizen group supporting a city ballot measure to renew a sales tax to continue funding open space, parks and trails and develop a new police headquarters & city hall.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Jody and Seth Furtney & Maximilian the Mountain Lion
11 Molas Drive, Durango, CO 81301
Jody Cell Phone: 970-385-5567 / Seth Cell Phone: 970-385-5547
Email: jodyfurtney@hotmail.com / sethfurtney@hotmail.com
2023 Rambles
Lost in Japan
We’ve just landed from a 15-hour flight to Tokyo. We stumble off the plane. Bleary eyed and bone tired we flow with the river of passengers to a sliding door where most everyone is boarding the train. Jody snatches a map from a nearby kiosk just before the doors glide shut. As the train quickly accelerates to parts unknown, Jody opens the map to figure out where we are headed. She then inspects her reading glasses. She looks again. Panic creases her face. The map is in Japanese. The overhead signs are all Japanese. The people around us all Japanese. Alice meet Wonderland.
We didn’t foresee the mindboggling complexity of the Tokyo subway system. Everybody seems to have it figured out, except us. The map shows lots of colored lines and stations. An utterly inadequate two-dimensional view of an engineering marvel that exists across three dimensions. The subway tunnels loop over and under one another for hundreds of miles on five separate subterranean levels. The map further disregards that the subway system is in fact a lively underground city with a multiplicity of stores, shops and eateries.
Entering the subway at ground level, you might exit a hundred kilometers distant. That is, if you can find the exit. Which doesn’t look promising in our present circumstance. To break the tension, I wisecrack “At least we have three weeks to find a way out before we need to fly home.” That comment doesn’t go over so well.
Trying to reposition us from lost to unlost, I hear Jody shout “ARIGATO” while stopping a Japanese businesswoman from the flow of rushing subway passengers. Before this trip, we were able to memorize a single word of Japanese, “Arigato” which means “thank you.” As it’s the one word we can pronounce, we thus use it for everything. Jody points at the “X” circled on our crumpled map indicating where we think the hotel awaits. The woman gestures that she doesn’t understand English and rushes away.
I just finished plumping my jacket into a serviceable pillow, in preparation for three-weeks sleeping in the subways of Tokyo, when the woman reappears. She politely motions us to follow her. We meekly obey. Down a corridor. Up a set of stairs. Around the corner. Along a hallway. To eventually reach a dark imposing door. The woman utters a magical password, and the door opens. We find ourselves at the entrance to our hotel. I unobtrusively unroll my “pillow.” This woman has just saved our marriage!
Tokyo is the most populous city in the world with 40 million residents. Four times the population of New York City. Despite this colossal number of residents, we never heard a driver honk their horn. Didn’t see trash on the ground. Never encountered a single homeless person on the streets. The Japanese are apparently delivering on civilized society pretty darn effectively. Especially when it comes to one’s backside. Let me explain.
It took me some time to warm up to the idea (pun intended), but the bidet is, in a word, exquisitely civilized. Every toilet in Japan sports a bewildering gadget next to it with lots of buttons. Each button adorned with a Japanese symbol we can’t interpret. Depending on the button you press you could: enjoy listening to some music broadcast from a hidden speaker; see an arrow projected onto the wall directing you to the exit, or duck from the jet of heated water erupting from the bowl. Though I never learned to decipher the buttons, I had a lot of fun exploring. Why not dance to encourage the morning constitutional? We are now bidet enthusiasts and have since installed them across our home. Visit anytime to try ours but be prepared to dance if you don’t read Japanese.
Bike Slacking from Sea to Ocean
The reason we visited Japan was to bike tour the Shimanami Kaido route with our besties, Mike & Betty. Mike had joined us five years back on an unexpectedly brutal self-supported bikepacking trip through northern Spain. We were surprised when he accepted our invitation to bike tour Japan but, like us, he was captivated by the glossy brochure gushing about the trip. Dedicated bike pathways weaving among the islands across the Seto Inland Sea to reach the Pacific Ocean. Lush traditional Japanese accommodations. Daily visits to onsens (public bath spas) to soothe sore muscles. Delicious seafood straight from ocean to frying pan. English speaking guide leading every ride. Van to carry your rucksack. I proclaim it Bike Slacking and it was great! Jody was smiling each night after visiting the onsen with Betty. I think she’s finally drunk the juice.
Here's a link to our Japan slideshow set to music. Enjoy
Via Ferrata Backtrack
Via Ferrata is Italian for “iron way” routes consisting of iron rungs & cables bolted to the wall to provide a secure connection to travel across steep exposed alpine terrain. Via Ferrata routes were first used in the First World War to help troops cross vertical rock walls in the Dolomite Mountain region of Italy. Via Ferrata routes are now popular worldwide and for good reason. The thrill of scrambling along a cliff face with 100 feet of nothing beneath you, without needing to wear painfully tight shoes, endlessly practice climbing skills, or impatiently belay your partner. What’s not to like?
We’ve climbed the downstream route of the Uncompahgre Gorge in Ouray, CO and Jody is now keen to prove ourselves on the harder upstream route. We confidently dismiss the “Very Difficult” signs posted along the approach. Can’t be any harder than getting through the subways of Japan unscathed, right? We first cross over a raging river, tight-roping across a single cable while holding onto another cable for balance. Soon thereafter, we encounter an overhanging rock buttress that requires a mountaineer hold with one hand while reaching around blindly to secure the next handhold.
This is where we learn that a “vertical” wall is one thing, whereas “beyond vertical” another. Entirely a different thing. I’m leading and holler back to Jody that this move is “kinda hard.” With some coaching and encouragement, Jody successfully traverses the buttress, but is fatigued. We then reach the 50’ vertical sky ladder. Fifty feet is as high as the tallest building in Durango. It’s a long way up. Jody watches the ladder sway as I climb, my arms vibrating with tension. Shortly deciding this route is too hard, she calls up to me explaining that she’s abandoning this venture, will scramble down the rock face and swim back across the river. The local climbing guide sees this pantomime from across the river and waves her arms that Jody WILL NOT unclip from the Via Ferrata cables and WILL INSTEAD backtrack to re-cross the river using the high wire. Jody is considerably worried about not making the return move around the buttress and ending up dangling from her safety harness with 100 feet of nothing beneath her. The climbing guide offers to assist, skates over the highwire, and with surprising strength, singlehandedly hauls Jody around the buttress. Jody can only think to say “Arigato”.
Pictures of France
Just a few years ago, photography required an expensive camera and expert skills. Photographs “that made it to print” were routinely remarkable. Smartphone cameras however require no training and now five BILLION photos are being taken every day. This number is inconceivable. Unbelievable that is, until someone offers to show you “a couple photos” from their recent travels. My warning is…RUN!
We’ve been to France and loved it. The baguettes themselves make the trip worthwhile. I was thus caught off-guard when my brother Dave excitedly proffered to show “a couple photos” from his and Sue’s recent trip to Paris. I accepted thoughtlessly. Dave then began scrolling through exactly 2,387 pictures of the Eiffel Tower. I counted. Pictures from far away. From up close. From different directions. Every single photo with the Eiffel Tower completely enclosed by a tall orange construction fence. Five hours later he needed to pause the slideshow to recharge his phone. I RAN!
DMP Bike Park
In 2023, the Durango Mesa Park foundation built a state-of-the-art bike park in Durango. Machine built flow tracks. Jump lines of varying difficulty. Gap jumps, drops, banked berms. A whole new level of merriment for us mountain bikers. These new trails are burly. The critical weakness, in my case anyway, is judicious prudence. I marvel at the young bike champions sailing 25’ (twenty-five feet) across gap jumps doing flips in mid-air. Remember however that these kids are made of rubber whereas I am held together with a few screws and lots of adamantium plates. As I was preparing to send it this year, I overheard a young whippersnapper whisper, “Let’s watch this old geezer jump. It’s likely to be a train wreck!” Geez…the lack of respect. I nailed my 20” jump this past year (inches not feet) and am working up the courage to send 25” next year.
Monopoly with Mom
Jody’s mom, Donna, presents herself as a mild-mannered woman but make no mistake she is a wolf in lamb’s clothing when it comes to Monopoly. First, she acquired all the railroads and charged everyone $200 for railroad rent every turn around the board. Then Jody ended up trading her Park Place to pay off debt. After that the game proceeded swiftly. Soon all players had to roll a 12 to avoid landing on a property blanketed with hotels that was owned by my mother-in-law. Late in the game, I rolled the dice and seeing a hotel laden result quickly scooped them up for another roll. Big Bad Wolf meet Wile E. Coyote!
You Look so Pretty
Jody has been telecommuting for over two decades, and over that time become exceedingly comfortable with video conferencing. Perhaps too comfortable. In a recent video conference, several of Jody’s co-workers paused to comment on how pretty she looked. I came into her office to peek. As usual, she was wearing her favorite old, faded fleece vest. But she had indeed brushed her hair and removed her favorite ball-cap. In my considered opinion, she did look remarkably beautiful.
Life in Durango
Jody continues as a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives with Mr. Cooper. I am involved in a wide variety of community efforts and take care of Jody. TTTK is now 15 years old and still likes to be held all the time. We make him into a kitty sandwich when we hug. When we part, he always meows to request sandwich treatment again and we, of course, always oblige.
We delight in writing this letter each year and hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Codicil - On December 19, 2023 at 8 p.m., Thomas passed away. He gave us such joy throughout the 15.5 years we were his humans. It was a good death. Although this has been devastating for us, we have been enveloped by a tsunami of love from around the world which has helped us immensely. Travel well my little cheetah kitten. We will miss you forever.
We are now smack dab in the center of the middle of nowhere! Memories of 2022!
;)
Derby Dilemma
We don’t dress up often, but we do try to shine up for notable events. Such an occasion emerged when Mr. Cooper invited us to the Dallas racetrack to watch horse races including the 2022 Kentucky Derby live on jumbo screen. Sporting a bow tie and high heels, we hobnobbed with other attendees until the stadium quieted for the Kentucky Derby and we witnessed the unbelievable sprint of “Rich Strike” to win the race
Jody watched the video of that race at least 80 times (matching the odds against Rich Strike). Test your own interest in Jody’s obsession at https://youtu.be/o_8ZgLZSWMk. Be careful however, since Jody’s enthusiasm for this race resulted in her subsequent trip to the ER. (If you’ve received this letter before, you knew that one of would end up in the hospital. Sigh.)
The sequence unfolded in this manner. The week after the Derby, Jody hosted her first in-person meeting with the team. She was fired up and the meeting was progressing great! After a few hours, she called for a quick break to make a dash to the restroom…imagining herself to be like Rich Strike. She started at the back but running fast and smooth secured a clean line through her coworkers. She leaned around the second turn when her high heels (which she hadn’t worn in three years) conspired against her. The carpet caught a heel and she cartwheeled to land against the wall. Her coworkers described it looking like Wile-E-Coyote testing an Acme rocket. Her foot was quite broken. Unlike Rick Strike, my girl wouldn’t be lauded with a rose blanket.
Swimming Boldly
Jody was desperate to regain her fitness after being sidelined for two months after breaking her foot. Promptly after her cast was removed, she hobbled over to the local rec center swimming pool. Jody stands, wobbling on crutches, wearing pink inflatable arm floaties, patiently waiting for an open lane for the “Masters Swimming” class to begin. The swim team captain’s jaw drops. Even Jody’s mom concedes that Jody doesn’t swim “like a dolphin” rather her style is more akin to “cannon ball…y”. A famous poet once wrote, “Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.” but one needs to have enough self-awareness to realize that boldness won’t prevent you from drowning. The lifeguards become more agitated as class continues and Jody progressively resembles a “cannon ball.”
Eventually, the lead lifeguard rushes over to throw a buoy and shouts “Are you OK?” The team captain leans over to delicately suggest that Jody consider a different class like “Learn to Swim.” Jody flashes back to her memory of the only class she ever failed. Swimming. Back in kindergarten! She fumes… but faces a dilemma. She needs help getting out of the pool!
River Dance
There are good trips, not-so-good trips, and great trips. Our summer trip, boating the Gates of Ladore section of the Green River, was magical. Everyone in the boating party was well prepared. The beaches were sandy. The sun was warm. The river passes through an extraordinary landscape of sculpted metamorphic stone in the Uinta Mountains. Deep swimming holes invite splendid “Cannonball” runs from the adjoining beach. Paradise!
There was however one little hiccup. Our final night on the river, we celebrated successfully navigating the many challenging rapids we’d overcome. The music was awesome and we seemed to dance on that beach forever. We danced late into the night and drank far too much. The next morning everyone hobbled around like a crash victim. We each nursed our pains over fresh coffee and shared stories about everyone’s replacement body parts. We agreed that these new parts just don’t perform as well as OEM (Original Equipment from Mom).
Digital Breadcrumbs
;)
This fall, we arranged a weeklong hike with Mike, Betty, and Rhonda following the Salt Creek Trail in the badlands of Utah. We have travelled here to tour the ancient Puebloan dwellings scattered throughout this valley and pore over messages contained in the many primeval pictographs. Despite this being some of the more remote country we’ve been to, I have confidence that we won’t get lost because we have excellent maps. I carefully monitored Jody as she downloaded gigabytes of satellite imagery so that we could follow our ‘dot’ along our digital trail. Jody academically informs my luddite sensibility that it’s like 21st century breadcrumbs.
Just after we unload the truck with our gear, our comforting little dot goes dark. I am unsurprised because I’ve long been “map cursed” (likely for doing something bad in a prior life). We are now smack dab in the center of the middle of nowhere. We could seek comfort in that we are unlikely to get lost following a creek bed along the canyon floor. But I must admit to having been lost many times when boating along a river. Don’t even ask how!
Before we hit the trail, I search frantically in the truck for a paper map. I grab an old decrepit sketch of a trail in New Mexico. At least we’ll have something on paper, even if it isn’t remotely close to where we are. Jody rolls her eyes. We begin walking. Thankfully, the “map curse” spares us this time and we reach the ranger station at the end of the hike. We see a sign that reads, “Lose your connection? Improve your perception.” Amen!
Diving with Mantas
When planning our visit to Hawaii this spring, Jim and Emmy encourage us to go scuba diving with the manta rays. With trepidation we sign up for the adventure. It has been 30+ years since we last went scuba diving. Upon landing in Hawaii, we are both nervous as we don our diving gear. It gets worse. Though we both ‘read the brochure’ explaining this would be a night dive, that fact didn’t really hit until…. we are in a boat, pitching about in ominous waves, preparing to dive into an inky black ocean, to swim underwater, relying on unfamiliar equipment, with implausible creatures sporting 25-foot wingspans.
There is…so…much….to…remember. Shortly after we begin our descent, having forgot to equalize pressure, I gesture to my ears. We return to the surface to revisit some diving basics. We sink again, very slowly this time, into the black abyss. I equalize my ear pressure every inch of the way down, my eyes the size of saucers.
We finally reach the ocean floor where the current gently rocks us back and forth and we must cling onto rocks to hold position. The ocean is menacing until our diving guide illuminates the bright lights mounted in front of us on the ocean floor. The first manta ray glides into view. Then a second. Then a dozen. These creatures have come to feed on the plankton attracted by the lights. They swoop and cartwheel above us, both fantastic and delightful, like dragons performing Cirque de Soleil. One manta ray’s wing slaps Jody’s head during a pass, after which all our eyes grow to saucer size. The next day, we stumble around in a stupor of manta ray euphoria while visiting the botanical gardens at Hilo with its stunning tropical plants.
The map for our journey ends at Volcano National Park. That night, we hike into a volcanic valley smelling thickly of smoldering sulfur. We reach a cliff edge and look out to see MOUNT DOOM! Lava bubbles, boils, and spurts! Smoke billows about! Smaug the Dragon flies overhead! Dorothy, we are definitely not in Colorado anymore.
Family Thanksgiving, Truth or Dare Style
This Thanksgiving, with family and friends, we visited Zion National Park near Hurricane Utah. Thirteen adults plus four kids. It was awesome! I was both entranced and threatened when the kids’ metamorphosed into cosmic fighters to defend the universe from invaders. As some of you may recall, these whirlwinds can deliver real damage when launching from a chandelier.
While the galactic kids tumble & wrestle, we adults start a game of “Farkle.” One might expect a no-stakes dice game like this to remain casual. You’d be wrong. Our game quickly devolves to “Farkle – Defcon 1”.
After the neighbors demand we quiet down, we switch to a quieter game of Spoons. To keep things interesting however, we declare the loser of each round must face “Truth or Dare” consequences. My brother Dave is soon “dared” to perform a chicken walk… which he performs rather impressively. I am “truthed” to describe my first jail experience…a story for which my mother holds some accountability. My mom faced the demanding “truth” question, “Who is your favorite son?” There is no winning answer, and she knows it. Her eyes dart nervously between me and Dave. Sweat drips from her brow. She then cleverly announces “Mike”, our other brother, who rests safely back in Colorado. Well played, Mom!
Life in Durango
Jody continues as a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives with Mr. Cooper. She won a prestigious ‘Challenger of Convention’ award which we intend to use for a bicycle tour to Japan next year in April during cherry blossom season.
I remain on the Durango’s Parks & Recreation Advisory Board and involved in several related community efforts. I’m encouraging the city to reauthorize a local tax to continue investing in the preservation and enhancement of our outdoor parks, open space, and trails. I’m also advocating for the city to authorize people with disabilities to use pedal assist eMTBs on our trail system as I clearly saw how riding an eMTB helped Jody recover.
Jody and I are proud to have helped Durango Botanical Gardens Durango Botanic Gardens - Home create an entrancing new Literary Garden next to Durango’s community library. This group literally transformed this previously unnoticed space into an exceptional sanctuary. This summer our hearts sang when we saw families reading books in this magical new oasis.
Please consider this letter our offering of joy to people we love. We hope you enjoy our Christmas tidings since it takes some effort! We pick a few of our best annual pictures for the photo card and develop stories which capture a fraction of each year’s absurdity.
Here is a smilebox of our Gates of LaDore River Trip. Enjoy with the sound on!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Jody and Seth Furtney & Thomas the Tom Kat
11 Molas Drive, Durango, CO 81301
Jody Cell Phone: 970-385-5567 / Seth Cell Phone: 970-385-5547
Hello from Durango - 2021 Memories
River Serenity…minus Joe
Jody plans. I pack the bags. A practice we’ve followed for nearly 30 years. This summer, Jody planned a packrafting trip down the Gunny Gorge where it exits the Black Canyon. She persuades several compatriots to join us and in the flurry of pre-trip planning emails, I take responsibility for several key group items: a quality first aid kit, a robust water filter, and coffee service. Batting over 500 in baseball would be terrific, but when packing for a backcountry trip anything less than 100% isn’t great. We’ve long become addicted to a nice cup of java every morning. Unfortunately, I didn’t bat 1000 packing for this trip.
The first thing after hobbling out of the truck is to massage out the cramps from the bumpy 4WD road. We stand alone and isolated on the mountain ridge looking down into the sheer canyon with a huge pile of gear piled beside us: Boats, paddles, PFDs, waterproof river clothing, camping gear, tents, sleeping bags, food… and ostensibly coffee service. The trail drops precipitously down into ominous darkness with the river far below. Sorting things for the hike down to the river, Jody frantically starts throwing things this way and that. She stammers, “Where is the coffee?”
A river trip without coffee is like: a concert without music; a restaurant without food; a bar without alcohol. If anyone else is as addicted to caffeine as we, this is a serious problem. The Gunnison River is in a desolate part of the country without any nearby Starbucks. There could be rioting. Harm could come to my person. I frantically dig through my first aid kit looking for tranquilizer darts.
We survive this trip without caffeine but, after word spreads about this egregious oversight, nobody seems willing to join us on another backcountry trip. One friend couldn’t join us because of an unavoidable commitment to grease his garage door chain. Another couldn’t join because she absolutely needed to clear the leaves from her gutters. Even I can read between the lines.
In my defense, I was overwhelmed by the novel storage options presented by our new packrafts. We can now bring along down pillows, folding chairs, dining table…concert piano. With the plethora of cool new items to pack, I skipped over an old one. An oldy, but a goody. You need not remind me that our normally sunny disposition depends upon a cup of Joe each morning.
Aquarius Trail Travails
This year has been the rare gem where I wasn’t admitted to a hospital. A rather big achievement in my rather small brain! I personally didn’t experience the shiver of a cold stethoscope. Nevertheless, I needed to visit the ER several times to attend to Jody. Now she has had to learn the complicated elbow twist maneuver required to hold the backless gown together in order to keep her bare backside covered. Now she can develop increasingly remarkable stories about how she earned the gruesome scar on her forearm where a sizeable slab of flesh was reattached after a bike crash.
Our first ER visit was for the doctor to sew her flesh back together. Our second ER visit was to save the arm. It’s only been three days since the original injury and contrary to “doctor’s orders” we’re now riding the Aquarius Trail across parts unknown of Utah on a hut-to-hut trip. Jody’s forearm has swelled to a size Popeye would envy and her fingers look like polish sausages. Mike and Betty are retired doctors riding the trail with us. They take a closer look at the inflamed appendage and deliver a simple statement. Get antibiotics right now or wave goodbye to the arm. Pun intended.
I appreciate that they make the proclamation in stark black and white terms. We had just listened to a nightmare story of a Denver ER in which Covid infected patients literally line the hallways. This accounting makes us extraordinarily reticent to visit any hospital facility. However, with dry throats, we race to the ER in Panguitch, Utah whereupon we enter the Twilight Zone. The hospital parking lot is empty. The emergency room completely serene. Nobody is anywhere in sight. To announce ourselves, we literally reach across the receptionist desk to “ding” the bell. From somewhere down the hallway, we hear someone yell, “A customer, a customer!” Responding like a seasoned Indy 500 pit crew, three nurses and a doctor materialize from nowhere. In five minutes, Jody bares ass for an antibiotic injection. In ten minutes, we’re ready to get back on the road.
That’s when the pesky issue of “doctor’s orders” comes up again. The ER doc, seasoned and grizzled from a lifetime of handling trauma patients, flatly tells Jody that her ride is over. Upon hearing this news, Jody just glares at him. Blue eyes sparking. Saying absolutely nothing. The quiet grows heavy. The clock ticks. The attending nurse sidles furtively out of the room. After an excruciatingly long stare down, the doctor drops his view to the floor and mumbles, “Of course, that is only a suggestion.” Jody jumps up to give him a hug using a seasoned elbow twist maneuver like a pro. On the way out, using her good arm, she unlocks her bike from the reception desk.
Bears Ears – Desolation?
We’ve all heard stories about a careless driver blithely following the “Google Maps Voice” onto an impassible road only to later be rescued by emergency personnel. The local newspaper mocks the humiliated motorist to their sardonic readership memorializing the event. Accordingly, when our Google in the sky tells us to turn off the highway onto a worn dirt road to enter the new Bears Ears National Monument, we stop and look around nervously. No road signs. No structures. No signs of human civilization. Nothing except a cow carcass mummifying in a dry arroyo.
Thus begins four days of exploration. Undisturbed desert extends in every direction. Comb Ridge extends across our western horizon. Bears Ears buttes rise to our north. The rugged landscape is peppered with sandstone, cactus, dried grass, and lots of tarantulas. We discover trails leading to ancient ruins and reflect on pictographs from another time. Cottonwood leaves rain down in a parade of gold ticker tape with each breath of wind. Small pools, evidence of recent rains, reflect the afternoon sunshine.
We become present. We think more slowly. We meander. After an indeterminate period, we reach an unmarked junction of two indistinct dirt roads. “Smartphone” maps are worthless here in the badlands. We embrace “old school” by dusting off the old decrepit Utah Gazetteer map stored under the rear seat. We wonder where we are and continue further inside. Knowing that we might be “lost” or as Jody likes to say, “temporarily not found,” everything is perfect. We’re in a lifted 4WD truck with good tires. The gas tank is full and a spare tire, jumper cables, and tow straps are in place. We have enough food and water for several days. A propane fire pit keeps us warm each night as the Milky Way emerges. We snuggle deep into our sleeping bags, nesting like a kat on a lap. We have found heaven on earth.
Where are my glasses?
Of all the annoyances of being over 50 years old, the need for reading glasses may be the worst. Jody & I have a dozen pairs of reading glasses scattered throughout the house…strewn across pockets of jackets…in our glovebox. You get the picture. I can rarely find a pair when I need them yet refuse to use an eyeglass chain to keep a pair of reading glasses handy. The probability of unintentionally transporting morning toast crumbles throughout the entire day is simply appalling. Only “really old” people use a cord for their reading glasses!
On a recent camping trip, we were invited to play cards and unsurprisingly Jody & I need reading glasses to read our cards. We look around but can only find one pair – so we pass them back and forth. Tiresome but effective. As the game proceeds, we notice our somewhat younger campmate, Gretchen, squinting at her own cards. We suggest she try the reading glasses, but she rolls her eyes theatrically and proclaims that reading glasses are only for “old people.” After further badgering, she nonetheless agrees to peek through our reading glasses. She bolts upright, upsetting the table and scattering the cards. She sings out “Holy Sh$t, I can read!”
From that point forward, we develop a three-way pass of the reading glasses. Apparently, one need not necessarily be 50+ to benefit from a little help. A few days later, she asks us in confidence what magnification she should buy… tacitly acknowledging that she is “officially middle aged”.
Later this summer, I visit my 80+ year old mom and notice how handy it is for her to find the reading glasses hanging from a gold chain about her neck. It’s so dang…convenient. I reluctantly decide to buy an eyeglass chain, crumbles be damned!
Nemo Nemesis
We have a major problem. Thankfully not an asteroid on a heading to destroy the earth. Rather, it’s that TTTK loves the movie, Nemo. He slinks back and forth across the coffee table and tries to “catch” the little fishes with his paw as they swim across the screen. Tail swishing. Making little “caw, caw, caw” noises. Black pupils the size of saucers. After a half hour of intense prowling, he nests himself squarely on my lap for a snooze.
The problem is that we “watch” Nemo weekly to accommodate TTTK’s habit. Friends think we are bat kat crazy and they would be right. My New Year’s resolution is to put the kibosh on this behavior. We’ve now watched Nemo over 100 times. After briefly fawning over TTTK’s cute antics at the start of the movie, once again, we fall asleep.
I awake hours later with a cricked neck, spittle dribbling. Nemo’s dad Marlin is looking at me from the screen asking “Are you still awake? Please turn off the movie. I’d like to go to sleep.” I rub the cobwebs from my eyes. Marlin bumps his nose against the TV screen and repeats his request more urgently. The movie has long since scrolled through the credits. We are even past the announcement that no animals were harmed in the making of Nemo…which I’m now apparently failing to honor. I turn off the movie. It’s way past time to go to bed.
Thomas has sauntered upstairs sometime much earlier. When I reach the bed, he is now soundly asleep on my (his) pillow. As I get under the blanket, he nonchalantly yawns and stretches. He looks at me dreamily and transmits his kitty thoughts “That film is so awesome. Let’s do it again next week.”
Granny gets her Uber On
Jody’s mom, Donna, routinely calls Jody when she needs tech support with anything electronic. She recently requested Jody help her install the Uber app on her smartphone for an upcoming trip. These tech support sessions can get quite testy. How do you explain to a tech neophyte how to open a browser…where to find an app…how to download it. The Baby Boom generation simply didn’t grow up with technology and has a hard time adapting. They most certainly walked miles uphill to school every day (both ways), but that didn’t prepare them for computer technology.
After several hours coaching her via phone, Jody finalizes Donna’s installation of the Uber app. They end the call with celebratory shouts! The next day unfolds with Donna again calling Jody to ask why random people keep texting her expecting an Uber ride. Baby Boomer meets Uber. Aaargh!
Life in Durango
One unexpected development is that Thomas has become a Tik-Tok sensation. Jody’s coworker Naveen and his lovely family visited this summer and during their visit his teenage daughters posted a “super-cute” video of TTTK in the kitchen sink drinking from his hamster feeder. We’re told he’s trending on WeChat and a non-fungible token of him is trading in the Metaverse on Bitcoin. We have no idea what any of that means. Millennials meet Gen Z!
Jody continues as a Vice President of Strategic Initiatives with a mortgage company, Mr. Cooper. She hasn’t been on a plane in 2 years and loves interacting with colleagues operating from their home offices across the entire world.
I enjoy my role on Durango’s Parks & Recreation Advisory Board and am involved in various community initiatives but didn’t win a seat on City Council. I invest my spare time taking care of Jody and…strategizing on my New Year’s resolution.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Jody and Seth Furtney & Thomas the Tom Kat (who loves Nemo!)
11 Molas Drive, Durango, CO 81301
Jody Cell Phone: 970-385-5567 / Seth Cell Phone: 970-385-5547
Email: jodyfurtney@hotmail.com / sethfurtney@hotmail.com
