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Not Stopping Yet, But…

4/28/2022

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Sitting in a sunlit pedestrian plaza surrounded by shops selling everything from coffee and pastry to locally distilled whiskey to ice cream to stereo speakers, I’ve come to realize that when I stop – if I stop – traipsing about the Earth like a drunken monkey, Fort Collins would be a good place to be stopped in.

It has many things going for it. Some that pop quickly to mind:
  • It’s a university town, filled with smart, energetic young people bursting with ideas and creativity. Not to mention the continuing education opportunities.
  • There are plenty of cultural opportunities as well. Appearances can be deceiving, but this drunken monkey can appreciate art, live music and even theater. It’d take someone special to get me to an opera or ballet thingy though.
  • It’s an eminently walkable and bikeable town as well. Miles and miles of trails and dedicated bike lanes; no car needed. And, from what I can tell, a robust public transit system.
  • The climate is nice enough. Sure it’s Colorado, but it’s in the banana belt of Colorado.
  • Outdoor activities are plentiful and vigorously pursued by many residents, even old shits like me. My participation would not be seen as weird or unseemly, but I won’t doff my shirt unless virtually guaranteed to be solo. Because that would be unseemly. And an emetic to others.
  • How can you not like a town with a waxing studio called “The Screaming Peach”?
On the downside, housing is pricy at the moment, but who knows how that’ll play out in the next few years?

Sorry MoCo, FoCo has usurped the top position.
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Things To Do In Denver When You’re Dead

4/10/2022

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I guess I’m ripping off Warren Zevon with the title (the movie, not so much), even though I’m not actually dead (to the best of my knowledge). But, I am in Denver(ish), and I have things I gotta do. And, it’s a clever-sounding title, and I take every available opportunity to be clever sounding.


I arrived on Wednesday evening, leaving Coronado at a comfortable 80°-ish degrees around 7:30 am and arriving in Denver at 5:45 pm in bone-chilling cold. Well, maybe not to you, dear reader, but it felt cold to me. Mid 40s, and a brisk northerly breeze froze my delicate and inconsequential tukas. Since then, I’ve adjusted a bit to cooler temperatures, and to a distinct lack of the color green in the landscape. I do miss hearing the surf, and swimming in the warm ocean water. But one does what one needs to do.


Why am I here? I needed to return to take care of some things related to my mom’s passing in January, that just weren’t feasible to do long distance. To that end, I’m not really sure how long I’ll stay in the states. Maybe a couple of weeks, maybe longer. It’s a conundrum in that if I leave too soon, I may need to simply turn around and come back for something else.


In the meantime, I’m going to Groundhog Day last October, and tool around visiting family and friends in CO, while determining what to do and where to go next. I’ll probably go back to Coronado, since I have a lease for a couple more months. I don’t have to though, since I’ve brought along all my belongings. As one does.


I’ve been reunited with the Volvo, and it’ll be my steed – worthiness to be determined – for the length of my visit. I have places to go and papers to sign and people to see and people to meet. I just wish it was warmer.
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Dateline: Volcán, Panama

4/4/2022

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I hitched a ride with John from Coronado for a 6 hour drive west to the Chiriqui area, near the Costa Rica border. We passed through David (accent on the second syllable) and headed upland, about 6000’ worth of up. What a difference elevation made. In David, the temp was probably close to 95°F, but at the cabin we’d rented it was only 72°. Nighttime saw 57, so, yeah, I felt a lot like home in both elevation, and temperature. If I could ignore the eucalyptus and other tropical vegetation and focused solely on the pines, I could very well think I was in CO or a wet part of NV.

I tried my butt at horseback riding, but the horse knew I was a newb, and steadfastly refused to do more than saunter. I swear he was even talking like Slim Pickens while doing so. I was able to get him to walk about half a klick before I gave up, and so did he. We turned back.

Cerro Punta is a ag town. It’s nestled high next to the volcano that gives the area its name. Fertile fields surround the town, which is pretty much a single main drag with shops and a few hotel-type places. After “riding”, we drove through, and picked up tow broschetas - a Panamanian kebab. It was a skewer of local sausage, chicken, beef, peppers, onions and potatoes. Grand total for both: $6. Really good eating, and made more so by the picante sauce on it.

I like the area, but I don’t foresee returning. It triggers too many memories of another tropical volcanic area where I spent time - a different lifetime ago. I need to keep moving on and experience new things, and new places, and not those that will trigger the memories and ghosts of what was, and what will never be. That way lies nothing but mind churn and sadness. I don’t need either.

The timing of this side trip has been perfect though, since the day after my return to Coronado, I need to prep for a flight to the States. Turns out, I can’t quite take care of all my business while on the road, and need to be in CO to sign some paperwork. I’m going to stay in the Front Range area for a week, then head to Mancos. There is an undeniable pull for me in that direction.

I bought a one-way ticket, and am not entirely sure when I’ll be leaving the States again, but as I sit here in a Swiss chalet-style cabin at temperate temperatures in a tropical country, I’m thinking I’ll be coming back this way to Coronado around the end of April with a round tripper to return to the States again in June so I can work a race in July. Why return to Coronado? There are a couple of reasons, really: I like it here, and I have a paid lease through the end of June. I know it’s not going to break me to bail out on the lease, but my sense of fiscal responsibility balks at leaving unused and on the table, money I’ve already spent.

But, given that the anchor is weighed, I’m only loosely holding the rudder and the sail is unfurled, who knows where and when I might blow. Given my capricious nature (lol), I’ll be taking everything with me when I go, and leaving the key. If I return, I know where it is, and how to get it. If not, there’ll‘ve been a reason good enough to overbalance my fiscal and other desires to return.

Enjoy the photos.
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    Just a guy out exploring the world. Former world-class never-was endurance runner.

    ​Hit me up, and we'll catch a beer or coffee in your town.


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