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CROSS COUNTRY SKIING

The previous post was partly about my dog Tasha.  She came to me shortly after I had returned from a six-week road trip through Western Canada, which passed the time while I was waiting for the results of the bar examination.  I was pretty sure I had passed, but I couldn’t start practicing law until I had been formally admitted to the bar.  The exam was held in July and the admission ceremony was in October.  I was set to start working as an associate at a small firm in Thornton, Colorado – Carroll, Bradley & Ciancio.  After I was admitted, I immediately began working on some very interesting cases, including the defense of a murder for hire criminal prosecution and a case to determine who owned the water system serving the City of Northglenn, Colorado.  Somewhat less interesting was my first divorce case.  I represented the husband while the wife was represented by another young attorney who had been admitted to the bar at the same time as me.  We were both sort of feeling our way through the process, but I didn’t find it very interesting.

At some point during the negotiations, the other attorney and I began talking about things we enjoyed outside the office and I mentioned cross country skiing, a sport I have enjoyed for many years.  He said that he had never tried it, but would like to learn and we arranged to meet the following weekend to go skiing.  Tasha was about 7 or 8 months old at the time and had never been skiing, so I brought her along.  When I met my skiing companion, I found that he was not alone, either.  He had brought a woman with him – who also had never been skiing and was expecting me to teach her.

Well, this lady was attractive, intelligent, personable and witty, and I was glad that she had joined us.  I drove to a trail near the Moffat Tunnel, West of Rollinsville, where there was good snow and relatively gentle terrain.  To reach the trail, it was necessary to park on the road, pass through a fence and cross the railroad tracks.  The trail then headed westward through what I believed was National Forest.  I later learned that the land was actually owned by the Toll family, who generously permitted skiers to use a small portion of their land.  A number of years later, I was involved in some title research concerning that area and I was privileged to meet Giles Toll.  Besides being one of the landowners, he was a physician and a true gentleman; but I digress.

I kept Tasha on her leash until we had crossed the tracks, and then removed the leash so we could ski.  Tasha, being part Husky, immediately recognized that she was in her element.  She looked around for a few seconds to get her bearings and then began running up the trail as fast as she could go.  The ski lesson for my companions became simply:  watch me while I leave you behind and try to find that puppy.

A mile or two up the trail, I did find Tasha.  She was walking back wondering what had become of me.  I scolded her, telling her she was through skiing and had to go back to the car.  On the way down, we met the other two.  It turned out to be a short ski trip as they decided to come back with us (probably because I was driving).  I did give them a few pointers as we went.  It was not much of a ski lesson.

I did not make a good first impression on that lady, whose name was Cathy Lupton.  Fortunately, though, I was able to see her again – several times – and married her about five years later.  We recently celebrated our 33^rd Anniversary.