Colorado. Apparently it actually means something. Apparently the place was discovered, settled, or at the very least named by a bunch of Spanish dudes. A bunch of incredibly unimaginative Spanish dudes, for they decided that upon discovering the land of red rocks and red soil, that it would be an amazing idea to call the place “Color Red”. The Spanish can come up with the holiest of all foods – Churros – and the best name they can come up with for this place is ‘Colorado’?
I hereby nickname my neck, COLORADO:
So yesterday was a day spent heading north-west to Boulder, a cool little college town at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. It’s way more laid back and a lot more scenic than Denver, and I went trekking up the mountains for a few hours. I’d been warned and read signs about bears and mountain lions (panthers, puma, etc) in the mountains… part of me was a little nervous about trekking alone through badass-animal country and the prospect of coming face-to-face with them, but part of me was hoping to still cross paths. I didn’t actually see anything, except for a mountain lion footprint at which point I proceeded to freak the hell out. I survived. Yay.