Weathering the Weather

It rained all night
The day I left--
The weather it was dry.
The sun so hot
I froze to death.
Susannah, don't you cry.
-"Old Susannah" folk song, Stephen Foster

"If you don't like the weather in Colorado, wait 15 minutes."
-ancient Chinese proverb


The first time I ever came to Telluride I thought, "Colorado. Mountains. Cold." And while the wool socks and sweatshirts were perfect for the cool evenings, I was sweltering during the 85 degree days.

The second time I came to Telluride I thought, "Colorado. 9,000 feet closer to the sun. Hot." Needless to say, my suitcase of t-shirts and shorts was hardly sufficient for the windy, rainy afternoons and 40 degree nights. My one sweatshirt & 2 pairs of jeans got a lot of wear that weekend.

Since then, whenever anyone asks me what to pack for Telluride, I just say, "Everything." T-shirts & sneakers for the early afternoon, raincoat & boots for the late afternoon, sweaters, jacket, long underwear, hat, scarf, & mittens for the nights. A typical summer day is high 80s, low 40s, and afternoon showers. And let's not forget a chance of snow. Now do you still wonder why I had to pack the car full just to spend 2 weeks here? Pack everything.



I see more weather in a single day here than you would see in 5 years in Southern California. For instance, here was the weather for Sept. 21, 2005 (the 1st day of fall, no less):

4am: severe storm with thunder so loud it sounded like it was in my backyard
7am: 60 degrees (i.e., warm), overcast skies
10am: downpour, chilly
noon: sunny & warm
12:30pm: downpour, chilly, snow suddenly appears on mountaintops
5:30pm: sunny & warm
6pm: sunny & raining, moderate temp., rainbow sighting
7pm: sunny, no rain, very cold
9pm: thunder so loud you can hear it in the movie theatre, no rain
10pm: amazing lightning that causes frequent momentary blindness, no rain
10:30pm: downpour
10:40pm: dry road, warm (55 degrees)

In grammar school they told us the song "Old Susannah" was a "nonsense" song. My teachers had obviously never been to Telluride. It makes perfect sense to me now--I've lived it.

I'm rapidly becoming acclimated, though. I have an umbrella stashed in all strategic places (work, home, car). The other night I got home about 11pm and was ecstatic because it was 55 degrees--warm enough to open my bedroom window again. If it hit 55 degrees in L.A., I'd turn on the heat and pull out an extra blanket.

And one of the most enjoyable aspects of the frequently changing weather is a plethora of rainbows. It is not uncommon for it to be pouring at one end of this small valley & have sunny blue skies at the other end. A few weeks ago I saw something that not only had I never seen before, but never even thought to look for--a "moonbow." I was driving home at night, it was raining, and the full moon was out. And then there it was--a pale blue arch across the sky. Simply astounding.

No matter how much you know about the science of light, it cannot detract from the total miracle and wonder of rainbows. Every single one is perfectly beautiful. Every one fills you with delight. Here people stop for 5 or 10 minutes in the middle of the sidewalk to enjoy a rainbow, even if they've seen a hundred of them. Even if they have to stand in the rain. They do the same thing when the alpenglow turns the mountains purple. Everyone just stops where they are to catch a fleeting glimpse of beauty, whether they've been here 10 years or a day.

Dorothy sang about finding someplace better over the rainbow, but here the best place is under it.

2-32-14: The History of a Momentous Decision

I spent my Month Two Telluride Anniversary in a blur of light and darkness as the 32nd Telluride Film Festival came & went, as it does every Labor Day weekend. But this past weekend was not just my 2nd month celebration--it was also my 14th anniversary of setting foot here.

Once upon a time I was quite young & in college when a friend came up to me at a party and said, "Cindy, go to the Telluride Film Festival with me!" "The what?" was my response. Followed by: "I don't have the time or money to go to some podunk [I actually used that word] town in Colorado with you." Chris then explained to me about the student program, where all you had to do was write an essay & get a professor to sign off on it to get a pass. I was still skeptical, but at some point the mind reasoned, "What have I got to lose?"

I wrote my essay (on The Outsiders), I sent in my application, & I was accepted into the 18th Telluride Film Festival Student Symposium! (It's a mouthful, I know.) In the process of making my travel & housing (read "camping") arrangements, I learned that my friend never got around to sending in his app. So not only was I going somewhere I never had any intention of going, but I was going alone.

On August 29, 1991, I set foot on Colorado ground for the first time in my life. I had just turned 21. I flew into Durango, which was the smallest airport I had ever seen. In seeking the baggage claim area, I walked right out the other side of the building. I went back in & finally saw that it was just a belt coming out of the wall. There might as well have been powered by hamsters on treadmills. And I waited there for 2 hours. I was starting to get uneasy, wondering if my shuttle to Telluride would ever show up.

When the film fest shuttle finally did arrive, my name wasn't on the passenger list. Luckily, everyone was willing to squish & make room for me and my ragtag camping gear. (I think they could sense that I was about to have a tearful breakdown.) And it was starting to rain. Rain is an omen.

Our minivan driver was so excited to see her old staff friends that as we were leaving the airport she took a curve too fast and came horrifyingly close to plowing into a street sign. My unease gave way to fear.

Then about 10 minutes outside of Durango (keep in mind it's a 2.5 hour trip) the driver--still excited about her friends--failed to notice a HUGE rock in the road and blew a tire running over it. We were in the middle of nowhere, populated only by a creepy "Psycho"-esque motel called Chips, and that's where we remained for the next 2 hours while someone went into town for a new tire. Chip's had the best Cream of Broccoli EVER. But I was beginning to feel my trip was ill-fated.


By the time I finally got to Telluride that night it was pitch black and I was in no mood to set up camp. I stayed at the Oak Street Inn, with no sense of what I'd walked into.

I didn't know it at the time, but the next morning's sunrise changed my life. I spent the weekend watching films, hiking, eating at the Floradora, and making new friends. As I was being driven back to the airport, I distinctly remember gazing out the window & saying to myself, "I'll be back. I don't know how or when, but it's got to happen." My heart already missed Telluride.

I have now spent 15 consecutive Labor Days here, and then some. I still love seeing my friends pile into town by the busload. And I'm still very sad when they all have to go back home after an impossibly long but too short weekend. But at least this year I won't have to be sad that I'm leaving, too.