It’s been almost a year since I last ventured out into the world for some time away from home. The world was quite different then, of course. It was a world untouched by COVID-19. A world where–at the time of my writing this–over 1 million humans weren’t dead and over 37 million hadn’t been infected. A world where we could adventure maskless and experience life unbridled by the really very small things we can all do to help mitigate the spread of this terrible, terrible virus.
Yet, here we are. I am so, so grateful that (so far) I haven’t succumbed to even in any small way the devastating effects of this horrible, horrible disease. And I do feel pangs of guilt that I am able to travel at all while others are jobless, sick, and dying. But, life does need to go on as best as it can even under extraordinary circumstances. And while COVID restricts us to certain activities so that others might live (and I am by no means in any way suggesting that these restrictions are overly burdensome; they are, rather, simple and easy and temporary), there are ways to travel safely so that we who love to travel might still be allowed to do so without endangering those around us.
And so, because of these circumstances of the world we currently live in, I find myself on holiday in an area of the world that may not necessarily be my first choice. It is still a great choice, but it’s a choice informed by how to travel safely. That means that air travel was out of the question as was any destination with a high density of people. It also needed to be somewhere with wide open spaces. Therefore, I find myself welcoming into my open arms the beautiful, beautiful state of Colorado.
I can’t quite recall the exact time in my life when I was here last. It’s very possibly been at least 25 years ago when I was 13 or 14 years old. So my memories of Colorado are all a little foggy. They are fond memories, to be sure, but still distant and hazy memories nonetheless.
It had also been a long, long time since I had driven somewhere hours and hours away. My last really long road trip was to DC about 15 years ago, so because of that lengthy expanse of time I felt that my mind and body was really and truly ready for a long, long drive. And I’m so happy that I got to experience a long, long drive once again.
Departing Minneapolis at 6am (it was still dark), I would find myself in Boulder by 7:30pm (where the sky had returned to almost mostly dark once again)–a 14-and-a-half hour drive in total. What struck me about this drive (south on 35 through Des Moines, west on 80 past Omaha and Lincoln, and then continuously farther west on 76 past, er, lots of small towns I can’t remember the name of) was how so many of my memories cheated reality. I had this image in my head that Iowa was just a bunch of rolling hills liberally populated with acres upon acres of corn plants. Nebraska, meanwhile, was this flat, flat dismal landscape of grasslands and prairies with only one single tree visible to the human eye at any given coordinate. While there might be some semblance of truth in these memories (maybe if we all squinted), I found myself pleasantly surprised at how, well, Minnesotan much of these states looked. It wasn’t until I reached western Nebraska and Colorado itself where the landscape finally did start to appear un-Minnesotan: slightly sharper hills with outcroppings of rocks counterpointed by endless seas of arid tumbleweed, one tumbleweed of which I really did see roll across the highway on a particularly gusty day.
Arriving in Boulder itself, the day was rapidly darkening, so I unfortunately wasn’t treated to breathtaking views of the Flatirons that dominate Boulder’s eclipsed horizon. Instead, I found myself wondering if these jagged outcroppings of rock were actually dark cloud formations in the distance. But, it wasn’t before too long that I figured out that I really was looking at proper mountains for first time in decades, all of these spectacular formations cutting into the sky like tall, black silhouettes of giant, craggy, mangled sheets of metal.
It certainly was a relief to arrive in Boulder after so much driving, but it was very much a rewarding experience all the same. I am so looking forward to seeing this beautiful state in the daytime, and I can’t wait to share my stories with you.
Stray observations:
- If you can’t figure out what state you’re in because it just looks like Minnesota, you can probably figure it out by the percentage of people wearing masks. I’d say portions of Nebraska were about 30/70 in favor of non-mask wearers.
- I wasn’t expecting many differences in colloquialisms as I traveled west, but I was taken slightly aback (only slightly) when a gas station clerk in Nebraska asked me if I wanted a sack for the items I bought, rather than a bag as we’re used to in Minnesota.
- One roadside landmark that stuck out for me was the Archway in Kearney, Nebraska (I didn’t stop to go inside): a large arched structure that spans Interstate 80 300 feet above the road, and it houses a museum with an exhibit that features the history of the Platte River Valley.
Check back soon where I shall regale you of tales about Pearl Street in Boulder, Left Hand Canyon, Peak to Peak Highway, and Avery Brewery.