Rules of Camping #26...The “Altitude Coefficient of Buzz”.
For every 5000 feet of altitude, the effects of any alcoholic beverage increase by a factor of one. So, at sea level, one beer equals one beer; at 5000 feet, one beer equals two beers; at 10,000 feet, one beer equals three beers, etc.
I'm normally up between 6:00 and 7:00 every morning, but this morning, I'm not out of bed until almost 9:00...and I don't feel so good. I don't feel so good because I have forgotten “Rules of Camping #26...The “Altitude Coefficient of Buzz. Down here on the eastern side of the Park, I'm up around 6500 feet, which means that effect of each alcoholic beverage is more than double. So...that Bourbon before dinner was really two Bourbons...and that ½ bottle of red wine was really a whole bottle, and those six beers with Rob and Tim were really twelve beers. No wonder I feel bad.
Around 11:00, after much coffee, I head into Estes Park for a shower at the local Laundromat/Shower. I feel much better after the shower. Now dressed in clean clothes and cleanly shaven, I head back to Ed's Cantina...a little “hair of the dog” in the form of a Margarita...Bison Tacos...a beer...ice cream for dessert. After lunch, more shopping...but I skip another trip to the Brewery.
Back at camp, I do some more reading. I would like to do some hiking but, even at 6500 feet, the altitude is a killer for me. So, I read, tidy up my campsite, plan out dinner...and the afternoon flies by.
Around 5:00, Rob and Tim come by, but this time, I'm taking it easy. So we share only a beer or two before being joined by Al who is camping across the road. Al's making the rounds saying hello to his fellow campers, and he stays for one beer. He next visits a couple camping across the road with a short-legged, powerfully-built mean dog of indeterminate breed. The couple waves him over...but...he's not two feet into their campsite when the dog takes off like a bullet, hits Al square in the chest, and knocks him to the ground. Al is able to fend the dog off with his legs and feet before the couple manages to grab the dog's collar and pull him off. Al returns to my campsite...he hasn't been bitten, but he's hurt his back. I give him a beer and some arthritis “medicine”. Soon, he feels better...much better.
I have leftovers from Ed's, so I heat those up for dinner...two more beers with that.
I bought firewood in town so, after dinner, I make a nice campfire...kindling, paraffin “firecubes”, wood...it starts right up. I nurse one small glass of CatDaddy white whiskey while the fire burns. By 10:00, the fire is out...and so am I.