"I can run in snowshoes!"

Story by Nicole

“You sure get an early start,” the park ranger commented as Jason rolled down the driver’s side window. It was 6:40 a.m. on Christmas Eve morning, and we had just pulled up at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison Visitor Center. The lone park ranger, after we assured him that we were dedicated photographers and not lost tourists, got into his truck and headed off into the pre-dawn light.

We were heading out to the rim of the canyon for two reasons: Christmas shoeshoeing, which I had been excited about for months, and dawn photography, which we had decided on the night before. The morning was cloudy, so we weren’t expecting a spectacular sunrise. We finished layering clothes (we had packed for the arctic), slung cameras around our necks, strapped on our snowshoes, and headed off on the Oak Flat Loop Trail.

For a while, we worried about heading down to the river, which we had been expressly warned against (it’s apparently very hard to get back out, summer or winter). After a while, though, the snowshoe trail diverted from the river trail, and we trekked across a ridge on the inside of the canyon rim.

Our view of the Black Canyon through the trees. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Forty-five minutes later, we saw the sun peak through the clouds and touch the top of the ridge opposite us. We climbed out of the canyon and headed home.

Morning sun reaches the top of the canyon wall. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole treks up the side of the canyon. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Jason experiments with running with snowshoes. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

The Gunnison River through rock formations. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Looking down into the canyon. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

We spent Christmas Eve night and Christmas morning with Britt, Nicole’s dad.

Britt cuddles with Daisy and Mocha. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole and Britt stare into the bonfire. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The fire envelops a paper advertisement. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Faces in the fire-lit darkness. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mocha sleeps in on Christmas morning. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

The next two photos are sunset photos from Monarch pass and Blue Mesa Reservoir. While they did not fit into a narrative, we liked them. The first was taken when we stopped on Monarch pass on the way to Gunnison. The second was Jason’s single picture of the sunset at Blue Mesa Reservoir on Christmas Eve before his camera battery died.

A sunlit mountaintop visible from the summit of Monarch pass. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Sunset at Blue Mesa Reservoir. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Thanksgiving 2

חנוכה

Story by Nicole

We were planning on a second, Hanukkah-themed Thanksgiving on Friday evening, but Jason, Christina, Maia, and I all went to the National Mall during the day. It was clear and very cold. We took the metro to the Smithsonian stop and detrained to visit the museums.

A stoplight blocks the sun in Falls Church, Virginia. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Washington, D.C. Metro Smithsonian stop. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Christina examines a silver tree in the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The half-frozen pool in front of the U.S. Capitol. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mist envelops a bridge railing in the U.S. Botanic Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Sunlight illuminates a purple orchid at the U.S. Botanic Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The interior curve of the Hirshhorn Museum building. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole, Maia, and Christina near an exhibit in the Hirshhorn Museum Sculpture Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A train rushes by the Federal Triangle stop of the Washington, D.C. Metro. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After we returned to Marc and Anne’s apartment, the festivities began.

The crumble topping on Maia’s unbaked southern apple pie. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Kristin and Anne raise their arms to…something, while Maia and Emilie look on. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Harley the Boston Terrier inversely examines the camera. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Challah

This series of photos depicts the process of making challah on Thanksgiving day, 2013.

Maia and Marc discuss logistics for kneading the challah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc shapes the challah dough while Maia looks on. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Everyone participates in the six-strand challah braiding activity. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After much discussion, the challah takes shape. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Finishing touches: Maia works on completing the braid. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc loads the braided braid onto a quarter sheet. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc brushes the braid with egg yolk prior to baking. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc removes the baked bread from the oven. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The finished challah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mixing Families in Washington, D.C.

Story by Nicole

Thanksgiving 2013 took place in Falls Church, Virginia, after the severed promise of a terrible snowstorm. Jason and I arrived on Wednesday night, and everyone spent the first evening relaxing and getting to know one another (Jason’s parents met Christina and Maia for the first time when they showed up on the doorstep on Wednesday morning after driving all night from Boston, Massachusetts). Thanksgiving preparations began.

Marc begins preparing the turkey. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Thanksgiving eve also marked the first night of an unusually early Hanukkah. Jason’s family debated the correct songs to sing while Nicole and Maia looked on, both amused and intrigued.

Two candles mark the first night of Hanukkah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The next day began with learning to bake challah from Marc’s tweaked family recipe, which was altered to gain the flavor and texture that he remembered from his childhood. For more about the challah, you can see the challah photo essay.

Close-up of the finished challah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The rest of Thursday was spent in cooking and occasionally running out to the Korean market for forgotten items. Jason managed to find a project when he noticed that his parents’ dishwasher was still covered by the plastic film used to protect the metal during shipping, and his slightly obsessive insistence on its removal paid off in extra shiny appliances.

Jason expresses his horror at the plastic film that he found still attached to his parents’ dishwasher. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Shortly after the bread was finished, Maia began working on the pumpkin roulade, a sort of sponge cake roll with whipped cream-based filling.

Spices are added to the batter for the pumpkin roulade. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

The batter beating resulted in a loss of structural integrity in the mixer whisk, a dilemma solved (temporarily) by a combination of electrical and scotch tape.

Jason and Marc examine the failure of culinary engineering that threatens the manual creation of whipped cream. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

I decided that Thanksgivng, amidst the chaos, was the best time to begin writing this blog. None of those words were included, in the end, but they were typed with sudden spurts of speed and focus.

Nicole focuses on writing within the cooking environment. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

At 6:30, the beautifully brined and baked turkey was finished.

Marc slices the first piece of turkey. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Later in the night we enjoyed Maia’s roulade, which had experienced whipped cream failure in the fridge. In the moment of clarity following the moment of anxiety, Maia pushed the mushy cream to either side to encourage the running that was already occurring and topped the roulade with fresh spots of whipped cream.

The finished pumpkin roulade. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mt. Princeton Hot Springs

Story by Nicole

The Mt. Princeton Hot Springs are nestled in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, near the virtually invisible town of Nathrop. I’ve been here several times; the warm water and stunning views do not disappoint.

(Photo/Nicole Harrison)

It is somewhat of a balancing act, deciding when to come. In the summer, the mid-70s weather makes the 90-105 degree water somewhat unappealing. In the winter, the water feels amazing, but the stinging wind and snow can make you wish for goggles and a snorkel. 

This visit was the second annual trip to the hot springs with Tom. Kayla was the fourth person rounding out our group. When we arrived on Friday night, light snow accompanied us. As we soaked, it became increasingly wet and heavy, making our towels into nothing more than cold, wet, somewhat stiff wind blocks. Snow definitely makes soaking in hot water more interesting, between the stinging sensations when one’s body is out of the water and the fascinating dissipation of snowflakes into the pool.

Overnight, the wind came up, and the morning it was clear enough to see the snow-covered peaks. We soaked until the wind chased us away, then headed home to Denver.