Somehow after my First Boulder, colorado solo adventure as a young 21 year old, I hitchhiked to Steamboat Springs. It could have been on my way back to the Northwest.
I met a couple local fellows who said, " Stay a few days, Dan!". So I did.
It was summer and hot. I figured there had to be an actual Spring around there someplace so I asked around. "Go up this road....it winds it's way to the hot springs," someone said. I had plaid short on, I think, which turned out to add to my feeling of being a protagonist in one of those 'lost in the desert' movie scenes.
I walked by some very interesting houses that looked like they'd be cool to live in, undoubtedly populated by cool musician types or gorgeous beauties with long chestnut hair who's families lived in places like Vermont, or Upstate new York. Perhaps 'drop-out' girls from Vassar? My imagination kept me busy as I slowly took my stroll up this unpaved country road. There were times I suspected someone was having fun with me when I began to doubt I was on the road to Springs of Steamboat Springs.
I was rounding a bend in the road, like a switchback. There were still a few houses from time to time, some very old.. and there was one on the right side of the road by the curve, an abandoned old one room farmhouse which would have made great 'barn wood' decor in a steakhouse; old dark cedar i think.... the foundation looked surprisingly strong despite the lack of a door.
Here it comes!
I caught a glint of something shiny on the dirt underneath the door entrance, under the foundation.
There, I kid you not, right next to a dead mouse, in the dry, dusty colorado dirt, was a very small, perhaps 8 ounce, can of warm-to-hot Coors 3.2 beer!!
You can not be imagining that I allowed the dead mouse to put me off. Yeah, I grabbed the beer and tried to find enough saliva to spit on the top of the can and spit, then wiped the top with my tee shirt, and enjoyed each cubic centimeter of that warm coors.
The rest of the story is that the beer gave me enough oomph and perhaps compromised judgement to make it to the Springs. I stripped as I saw no one around, and I don't think any cars had passed me at all on the way up, so I felt safe about it. Hot or not it felt soooo good on my sore muscles.... i was laying back enjoying this perfect spot when I heard some voices.... I think i'd left my clothes in a safe enough space, but some 'tourists' were parked above me looking around and chatting... "Crap!"... Oh well. They disappeared soon after and so did i after thoroughly enjoying the actual Springs of Steamboat Springs as only a vagabond could.
Hop in! Where you headed?
I aim this blog at Hitchhiking stories, obviously. However, you can take that in the 'poetic' sense, as we are 'snakes' in time and the asphalt rivers take us to many places, as well as 'places'..
PLEASE REMEMBER TO READ PREVIOUS PAGES..
.... occasionally my own 'Road' spurs me to use this blog to communicate with someone I've 'travelled with' who holds a special meaning to me.