A view of Boulder Creek gushing down through Boulder Canyon.
I hiked up the trail each morning while I was in town. I tend to wake up at 6 a.m. Eastern time no matter where I am, so instead of sitting there and looking at the hotel walls, I got up and walked. It’s been a while since I hiked in the West. Much different from Tennessee. I love that pine smell. And it’s so dry, I’d hardly sweat at all on the trail, but when I got back to my hotel room, I’d suddently get drenched.
I also got a charge out of the cultural differences. When I encounter someone on a Tennessee trail, the encounter bursts into a “How you doin’?” and ends up in a conversation. In Boulder, it took the form of a curt but neighborly nod. Yes, I acknowledge there is another human here in front of me. But I refuse to do so in a way that would compromise my Western cool.
Damn. I do miss the West …