Colorado My Home

6-22-06

Yeah, finally getting around to finishing this. The internet tradishunz are unreliable here at Chateau LoLo this week, what can I say? I’m back in LA now, and not exactly happy about it. Would you believe I cried actual, real tears as the bus pulled out of the Boulder park/ride? Yes, I did—I didn’t want to leave that much. What a life I can see for myself there and then some—the only hard part is trying to choose between Ft. Collins and Boulder. I see why some people say that Ft. Collins reminds them of SLO—it’s similar, a smallish college town with bikes a-plenty (almost a 1:1 bike/resident ratio) and more delicious beer than you can shake a growler at, and some killer housing stock to boot, trails and climbing areas right next to town, with proximity to more if you want to venture into Rocky Mountain National Park or go the other direction into southern Wyoming.

I did finally get to visit New Belgium (they were closed on Monday after I finally found it) and it’s a pretty neat model of business and sustainability—they even give you a cruiser (many people have been enjoying Fat Tire Ale, a flagship beer, for years) after a year of employment and a trip to Belgium after 5. I also had plenty of time to wander around town on foot and explore, and even run some trail around one of the local reservoirs, which kicked my ass since I haven’t been running and it was hot and dry as a bone that day. I also got to spend many hours with my brother’s girlfriend’s mom Mary, who was kind enough to put me up and feed me and let me watch her garden while picking her brain about all things Ft. Collins or Colorado. She has a beautiful old house about 100 years old right in Old Town, adorned with prayer flags her friends bring her when they vist Nepal and a garden (she is an amazing gardener/farmer and even does work professionally) filled with baby herbs and veggies just starting to grow in the ground. She rides and hikes and backpacks and skis and shoes. She co-founded an outdoor school with her ex-husband. I’m really quite in awe of her. She also dos indeed make a killer pesto from the basil she grows, which we sampled on pizza with pignolas for dinner. People rode by on bikes day and night—students, cyclists, commuters, you name it. Seriously, I think I might have to flip a coin.

Jamie’s birthday on Tuesday was also lots of fun—she is gorgeous no matter what she wears or how grubby she gets but damn that girl is exquisite when she dresses up! We met some friends at the sumptuous Med for dinner and drinks and I had a nice time getting to meet even more of J’s very wide circle of friends. One of them was a cyclist (one of the few—most of ‘em just climb) so I made sure I got some beta on the local riding scene. It sounds agreeable, to say the least. Wednesday was more of a lazy day—we met Jamie’s lovely LA friend Donna for coffee at Amante (seriously amazing) and then I tried to motivate to go to the school and poke about but lagged and then it looked like rain (it didn’t much). I did get to have dinner with my old classmate White Eagle and catch up with him on the personal and professional goings on, which was no end of fun because we each keep in touch with different people. He had a rough first year owing to joining a practice full of dishonest douchebags, but he’s on his own now and doing fine. I also had an interesting (and tasty) beer from Left Hand out of Longmont called Juju Ginger which tastes like, yeah…ginger. It was really quite good. If it sounds like I’ve done nothing but drink beer and eat pizza for two weeks, that’s about the size of it, btw.

Thursday was my last day in town. We met Donna on her way out at her beautiful hotel for breakfast, and then bought tickets for a ride on Banjo Billy’s Bus Tour of Boulder—we just HAD to. In the mean time, we resolved to…laze on the couch and watch a beautiful little film called Once. I have the soundtrack in my head to this day (when it’s not playing the Decembrists, that is). We got downtown in time for lunch (yeah, you guessed it—pizza at Old Chicago’s and a local micro called Hazed and Infused (very good!). We found a bunch of older ladies sporting red straw hats in front of the Boulderado hotel and figured this must be the place.
We got on the bus that was built to look like a log cabin but came out looking like a hillbilly shack (read the whole story by clicking on the link above) and set off to hear tales of ghosts, suicides and sex scandals that are the stuff of legend. We even got mooned by 3 frat boys as we drove through the CU neighborhood known as The Hill. The stories made Jamie sentimental and not want to leave Boulder for even a little bit.

The final adventure was a bbq on a farm east of town where Shala (who wasn’t able to take me skiing that day but promised she would if I ever came back) does some work. The ramshackle barn was full of cool old stuff, including a very old-timey sleigh and piles of old skis. Even the gates were made out of skis. Soon a few of Shala’s climbing buddies showed up and we started in on the food and beer. A couple of groups each showed up with a dog, one of which was an adorable 4-month black lab/border collie mix that I just wanted to scoop up and take home. He had fun nipping the heels and trying to herd the other dog (a chow mix of some kind) until the chow put him in his place. A few of us played on the swing hanging from a giant oak tree until we realized we were getting eaten alive by mossies. There was even a guy who grew up in Santa Rosa so we had fun picking each others’ brains and comparing California with Colorado. The sunset set the clouds over the mountains on fire, and then a large moon came up and lit up the place almost like it was day. Lightning split the sky a few times in the east and thunder rumbled but no rain came. They say that’s pretty typical. What an awesome way to spend a summer evening—I am totally signing up as soon as I figure out where.

Alas, Friday morning dawned and it was time to stuff everything back into the suitcase and pack (how had I ever gotten it all in to begin with?) and head on over to the bus stop to come back to LA. Jamie and I laughed as we hugged good-bye and promised to keep in touch (neither one of us really has any idea where we will be or what we will be doing in about two months) and that was it. I really did cry for a few minutes as I left—just welled up and got all plum-pitty and sad as the bus pulled away. I guess I should pay attention to those heart strings—they grew like honey-suckle vines around a Kentucky barn in those two weeks I spent there. It's been so long since I could make a choice about my life from my own heart I've almost forgotten what it feels like. The other song I’ve had stuck in my head since I’ve been back? Colorado My Home from The Unsinkable Molly Brown.