Mile: 1,348
Sometimes the hardest part of the trip is leaving. I know that is the case for those who never leave their doorstep, well, cause that’s the only part they know. But it was also the case for me leaving Fort Collins. “Ahh I’ll sew this cushion before I leave”, “I’ll make my shower system before I leave”, “I’ll install some hooks for my flyfishing stuff before I leave”, “I’ll fix this jankety door unlock that goes ‘KAAAANNNNNNNNNNNK’ every time I hit the unlock button before I leave”, and the list goes on. If I would have stayed until I got everything “just right” I would have never left. So, with a front door that goes “KAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNK” everytime I hit the unlock button, I’m off. Ohhh wait!! Let’s throw a 40 minute grocery run and an extra 1.5” memory foam mattress topper in the cart (sleep is muy importante for senior Collar, I frequently operate on 5-6 hours but when I close my eyes, I don’t want to open them again until that alarm goes off). So...after the run to Target (I receive no endorsement money to say that, but I would say it again if someone from Target reads this and they decide to go with the more “less see mediums like unpopular travel bloggers who are doing it for friends and family” style approach. And just in case they are still unclear...I will name drop for money....I’ll be waiting for your call. So...after the TARGET run ($$$) I decided to get a quick bite to eat before leaving town. Well frick, now its 7:30pm and I still haven’t left town. But, eventually I get on my way to Wyoming. And boy howdy was it something special.
There’s something about the open road. My windows down listening to Eddie Vedder - the Into the Wild album and then the smell of the mountains hit me. It’s a smell that’s hard to describe but is like non other. I have to use words that don’t even resonate with smelling to describe it. It’s a cool fresh smell, like that of wet grass in the morning, or maybe the smell of a clear blue stream as you know that water is cold rushing by, or the smell of a deep well that you can’t see the bottom of. It’s like non other. As I began the up and down of the foothills the sun fell between the clouds and the mountain peaks. The sunset was enfuego but that turned into a down pour at the state line. About the time I saw the “Wyoming” sign, which by the way, is it too hard to add onto that “Welcome to...”. I guess they wanted to go with the Ron Swanson approach and just call it what it is. “Wyoming.” Strictly factual. This here dirt is dirt of Wyoming. The end. But anyway, about the time I saw the sign is when the hail started. Nothing to ease the nerves of leaving behind the last “safe” known place on my 3 month journey into the unknown like a hail storm an hour into the drive. But nonetheless, it eventually eased up and when I crested the next hill I saw blue skies to my right, a sunset that would rival any Texas sunset I’ve seen, and a lightning and hail storm to my left. Amazing. Simply amazing. I learned from a random beautiful girl riding on the back of her Kroger cart ($$$) a few years ago that “It’s the little things”. I know that this was not a “little thing” but wow, this sure was something to take joy from. If you looked hard enough you could have seen my goober-rific smile from states away. By the way, I make up words as they are needed. Point and case. If you are wondering where God is in your life, go outside. I can’t say it enough. Go outside.
I rolled up at roughly 10:30pm to find all the camp sites taken, on a freaking Tuesday! But I’m in a van suckas!! I pulled off to the side of the gravel road where there was a few parking spots for day hikers and without even getting out of my van I crawled in the back and went to sleep.
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