Yesterday was an incredibly, amazing day. It was a day to get together with friends, make new friends, and spread some of John Flanagan's ashes. Jack and Tanner had been in contact after John's death and decided to have a day hiking and skiing and it seemed only appropriate to do just that in honor of John. After all, that is what he lived for and we were going to bring him back to the tops of the peaks he so dearly loved with the biggest passion I have ever seen.
Jack drove to the basin at around 6 in the morning to get a beach spot. He was the first car in line so when they opened up the parking lot not only did Jack get prime pickin's, the honchos at The Basin set up some cones to save us more spots. We got 5 spots in a row and by 8 the lot was filled and we were all getting on our sunscreen and getting our gear together. People kept on showing up and we all loaded the lift and made our way to the top of the mountain. We got off the lift on the top of Lenewee and started our hike up. There must have been 40 or 50 people that came out to honor John. We crested the first peak and now the pack was spreading out a bit. It was a sight to see with every one's skis or boards strapped to their packs, everyone in their own thoughts. People resting, people singing and talking, people taking pictures, people taking baby steps one careful step at a time. I was breathing so hard but I wasn't holding anyone up so that made me feel good. There were no ego's, nobody was aggro, it was just serene, happy, sad, beautiful. We got to the top of Chihuahua and Tanner, John's son, had John's ashes in a box and he was taking handfuls and throwing them into the wind over the mountain. Then, Tanner let anyone who wanted to, take a handful and spread some ashes. No one was talking really. It was quiet and there were some hoots and hollers, and words of inspiration and, of course, the bottles of Jameson were going around. The wind was blowing in just the right direction so his ashes were whisked away over the mountain, in front of us so we could watch them disappear in the thin air. It was pretty special.
Now, it was time to ski. The skiing was steep and vast and there were people ripping it up. It was exhilarating to say the least. The adrenaline in that valley was felt throughout everyone of us as well as the good energy. It was a feeling I have never experienced. We all got to the bottom of Chihuahua and the bottles of Jameson came out and plenty of pictures were taken. After a bit it was time to hike up to the top of Marjorie Bowl for one more ski.
Eddie, Jack, Whoosie and I decided to bust a move and get in front of the conga line. The steps up the steep mountain were perfect and looking back at everyone below us, back in our own thoughts, songs, conversations, was amazing to look at. I took it all in and kept snapping pictures of our conga line. We were all slowly hiking up and up and up and I'm glad I remembered to look around a lot. Sometimes I get so concentrated on my hike that I don't even lift my head and I miss out on the views. Not this day.
We all congregated on the top and once again, Jameson came around and Tanner brought out John's ashes and this time I got to take my handful and throw some of them into the wind and watch them disappear. Some people were skiing back down for another hike up, some just hanging out on top taking it all in. But we were all so happy and peaceful and thankful to have the one person who brought us all together to experience this moment. After hanging out in the wind on the top we were getting cold and it was time to ski. Marjorie Bowl is humongous and there were plenty of lines to be had. Everyone waited at the bottom and when another skier would come down the hoots and hollers were abundant. Again, the adrenaline was high and the energy was good. That was it. It was time to go back to our cars and relish in the previous moments. We had a keg and 6 cases of beer donated to us, thanks to Greg and Pugs. Cindy, John's ex-wife and best friend, showed up after a long drive from Telluride. We told her about the hike and what a great kid her and John have. Tanner has more itegrity and is the most humble person I have ever met. What an incredible demeanor he has and he seemed so at peace with the entire day. He was happy and surrounded by a slew of people who dearly love him and his family.
I haven't seen Jack let loose like that ever. He is not much of a partier but with the mood on the beach at The Basin it was pretty hard not to join in on the festivities. John would have wanted nothing less. The booze was plentiful. I decided that I needed to be responsible and start delegating the driving situation. I spoke with the honchos at The Basin and asked them if we could leave some cars up there overnight, seeing as there was no way some were driving. They totally accommodated us and showed me where to start lining up vehicles so I made my rounds and took keys and parked trucks and cars and piled as many people into my car as I could. The party was now going to relocate. To, where else? The Snake.
It was a night to remember, and we ended up in our back yard with a roaring bonfire in the snow.
RIP John. What an amazing day you gave us yesterday.
Me, letting a handful of ashes go with the wind.
One of the conga lines.
Tanner with John's ashes.
Eddie skiing down.
Tanner and others standing at the top, center.
Looking down at the crowd.
Eddie and Jack above me.
Conga line heading up to the top of Marjorie.
John Paul Flanagan, 54, courageously succumbed to a fierce, beastly illness in Nathrop, Colo. May 18, with his former wife, Cindy, and beloved son Tanner by his side. He was born on January 2, 1957 in Bridgeport, Conn., the fifth child and second son of Bernard J. and Mary E. (Bette) Hermes Flanagan. He grew up in the Lordship section of Stratford, Conn. and graduated from Stratford High School. Following high school he traveled the US, finally settling in Colorado more than 30 years ago. He worked a myriad of jobs, most recently being a professional truck driver in the mountains. Being an expert skier, kayaker, and outdoorsman he was always looking for the freshest powder, most challenging runs, and secluded waters in Colorado, California, Utah, Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas, and Alaska.
He leaves a son Tanner Flanagan of Jackson Hole, Wyo., daughter Kaitlin Bowers of Dillon, former wife/best friend Cindy Bemer Flanagan of Salida; six siblings: Diana Flanagan (Tom Harris) of Los Angeles, Carol (Roger) Salthouse of Stratford, Michael J. Flanagan of Milford, Conn., Sheila Flanagan of Milford, Lisa (Jaime) Garcia of Glenside, Penn., and Brian P. Flanagan of Bridgeport. He was predeceased by his parents and brother Patrick J. Flanagan. Memorial services will be held later this summer in Stratford and at Arapahoe Basin in Summit County.
We love you, John; you will be sadly missed. If anyone would like to make a donation one may do so @ Bank of the West, PO Box 648, Frisco, CO 80443, (970) 409-3018, c/o John Flanagan. The funds will be disbursed between Summit County Search and Rescue, and Angel of Shavano Hospice. Any questions, please contact ChristopherCrisler@ bankofthewest.com.
He leaves a son Tanner Flanagan of Jackson Hole, Wyo., daughter Kaitlin Bowers of Dillon, former wife/best friend Cindy Bemer Flanagan of Salida; six siblings: Diana Flanagan (Tom Harris) of Los Angeles, Carol (Roger) Salthouse of Stratford, Michael J. Flanagan of Milford, Conn., Sheila Flanagan of Milford, Lisa (Jaime) Garcia of Glenside, Penn., and Brian P. Flanagan of Bridgeport. He was predeceased by his parents and brother Patrick J. Flanagan. Memorial services will be held later this summer in Stratford and at Arapahoe Basin in Summit County.
We love you, John; you will be sadly missed. If anyone would like to make a donation one may do so @ Bank of the West, PO Box 648, Frisco, CO 80443, (970) 409-3018, c/o John Flanagan. The funds will be disbursed between Summit County Search and Rescue, and Angel of Shavano Hospice. Any questions, please contact ChristopherCrisler@ bankofthewest.com.