Grand Lake Colorado sits just south of Rocky Mountain National Park. We take the highest paved road in the country from Estes Park to Grand Lake. Our favorite vacation area.
At a little more than 8,000 feet above sea level, it has been the home of the Lariat Bar since the 1930s. Best bar in the state some locals say.
Owned then by the mayor, an old friend of Kris Kristofferson, I was told. Bartender told me Kris shows up occasionally and buys drinks for anyone there, while the Mayor and Kris lie to each other for hours, emptying a bottle of the best scotch in the house.
I missed all that but did sit amazed as the bass player in the band, and I had a beer. It was about 3 in the afternoon. He had just set up the stage for tonight's show. Then, the bartender called him over to the phone (this was before cell phones were invented).
"Damn Daniel, what are we going to do now?"
"What's up, Mike?" I asked.
"Ahh, the drummer is caught on the Denver side of the Berthoud Pass. A road in the valley is flooded. They've closed the road to here. I guess no drummer tonight."
"I'm a drummer, Mike, from the Kansas City area. We play rock, blues and some country. Maybe I can help."
"Really, can I afford you?" We laughed. "What do you charge?"
"Unrehersed, I can't charge you. Just drinks, maybe pizza."
"Deal! Let's go over some of the tricky tunes right now."
"OK, sure. My wife and her sister are shopping. I've got about an hour, let's do it."
Mike used to be the drummer, and they use his drums for the "Electric Hammer Band". Everything was set, and we rehersed some songs. We laughed and agreed it was tolerable enough to get through the night.
"Thanks, Willie."
"Sure, Mike, it will be fun. I'd be in here anyway."
That evening I grabbed my harmonicas. We started at 8 pm, I played drums for four hours, had a blast. Even played harp on some blues tunes while Mike played drums.
"Bring you harps next year, Willie. That would be fun."
"Sure, will do."
Everyone was happy to have met fellow players with "the show must go on spirit".
An amazing event, being part of the local color there. Rare for a tourist. So, I grabbed my case of harmonicas, we all toasted with a shot of tequila, I got one more bottle of Coors and walked to our cabin.
The dry, cool mountain air replaced the smokey smells of a Saturday night. The smell of pine trees and a hint of fireplace smoke filled the air as I floated the 100 yards back to the cabin on a Rocky Mountain High.
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In Review
Non-FictionWhat is "Life In Review"? Saga, song, sonnet, story, satire, summary, sorry situations, silly sort of stupid stuff, sense and non, poems, prose, anecdotes and dozy doats, and a possible personal blow or two. This book is a collection of writings, op...
