“It’s so brown”

…says the lady in front of me at rental check out. She encourages me to leave Denver to go to some much more picturesque place (her intended destination of course) because it is more beautiful. Driving into the city I’m looking at mists rising over mountains. Purples, whites, blues and then the orange of sunset. Dead grass? Sure. It is March. But not muddy or barren (lady, you have obviously not driven in Florida).

Later, while walking through the “revitalized” downtown I’m struck by how empty it seems. That this is the truly ‘dead area,’ though still with rather pleasing peeks at peaks through the buildings. Maybe it is lingering cold. Maybe the last days of snow call weekenders out of the city, but I was surprised at how few people were out and about and using the pedestrian-friendly space. My big-city ears were twitchy at the quiet in such a seemingly urban environment. I thought a “city in transition” was an apt phrase to borrow… but I don’t know really to or from what, it was just my impression.

Long Live Sport

“If they mess up on that first crest, it is basically lost.”

We are up a winding mountain at the purpose of our travel. Two curmudgeonly guys lean on a fence discussing the casket race before them. Costumed runners carry a litter-styled casketed teammate over snow, racing to the cryogenic tent finish. The Dead Guy Games are in full swing.

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