Amanda Rae Was Here...

It was a challenge to type that sentence without allowing an overwhelming sense of self-loathing to rush over, rap my knuckles with a ruler, and make me delete it. First of all, I can’t stand statements like that (or the people who say them), so, uh, that’s hypocritical.

Viewing this photo, shot on Sunday while I waited for a friend to pick me up to embark on a bicycle-buying adventure, I can almost see my brain spitting neurofury: Where the hell is she already? We spoke almost an hour ago! Urgghhhh this patio is like a convection oven—and this down jacket was a really bad idea!

Eventually, of course, she arrived. I bit my tongue, even when I noticed traffic zooming past us on the highway. For miles. But I reminded myself: Chill. She’s from a country where drivers use opposite sides of the road. Besides, she’s really funny. It would have been a somber, silent excursion otherwise, and I’ve had my fair share of those. Time to break the cycle.

Mud Season in Aspen begins with the seemingly abrupt closure of the four ski areas followed by a swift mass exodus to warmer climes, which provokes lots of local businesses to shut down for about six weeks, rendering this place a veritable ghost town until June. So I’ve spent a lot of time recently planting seeds, figuratively speaking, some of which may yield to exciting/challenging/lucrative summertime gigs. I’m focused on waiting for these outfits, not jumping the gun and accepting some banal timesuck scenario that is less fulfilling/financially mediocre in the interim. Patience.

Now, like a gust of alpine air meant to be sipped in slowly, not gulped down in dramatic gasps, I’m wrapping up a few good projects and I’m planning a big spring road trip. I might accomplish two things: extinguish my nagging wanderlust and, maybe, just maybe, suppress that imaginary foot-tapping lurking around every corner.

[Front Porch, Aspen, Colorado, April 21, 2012]

Duh.

Thankfully, this sunny ski town has no shortage of activities, festivals, and hip establishments to infiltrate or hot-smart young things to befriend because otherwise I’d probably slip into what is best described as dazed melancholy.

Let’s review: The great journey across America came to a screeching halt, and as days turn to weeks I see Amanda Rae Was Here shrinking slowly in my rear-view mirrors.

Easing into a semi-“normal” life on the heels of a wild, once-in-a-lifetime expedition full of—excuse the Oprah lingo—intense personal discovery is an unfortunate reality. Uncle Ben was right.

Regardless, I’m not mourning my state-hopping coma; I’m moving forward on this blog, while staying still in Colorado. I’ll continue to post snippets of my Aspen adventures, and I’ll recount memories from the past eight months as they flash back into my consciousness. So much to tell. So much to live. The atmosphere here is electric

If this is my new reality, then I consider it the continuation of a fantastic voyage.

[En-route-to-Aspen, Colorado, February 4, 2012]