"Go west, young man, go west!"

I've never seen a real mountain. Upper Michigan is rugged, but not elevated, and Paraguay is mostly flat. The Cordilleras of Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic are gorgeous, but not particularly tall. I've climbed (almost) to the highest point in the Caribbean, but at 3,098 meters (10,164 feet), Pico Duarte (Dom. Rep.) is still dwarfed by most peaks of the Colorado Rockies, which often climb above four thousand meters. Those are real mountains. Very few things have made me feel truly small lately... a clear night sky, Lake Superior and my giant friend Doug... but I'd say it's high time to be laid low by a real rocky mountain.

So I said to myself: "Go west, young man, go west!"

A quixotic piece of advice indeed, and one that I intend to follow. It was originally popularized in the mid-19th century by American newspaper editor and reformist Horace Greenley to promote Manifest Destiny. While I have no intention of claiming any land by divine right, it is not difficult to re-appropriate the phrase into a metaphor about claiming my own personal destiny. I won't, though. That would be cliché. I just want to see Colorado, and see it I shall. Tomorrow. (That is, if I don't miss my flight tomorrow afternoon. My relationship with bus and train schedules is a bit spotty, but I have never missed a flight, so I am confidant I will arrive in time to be successfully seated in a middle-seat between a fussy baby and a tiny yappy dog who doesn't like my face.) Here's to hoping!

Colorado will be a fun new adventure for me. My travel compass, you see, is severely lopsided. I've got South down, a respectable stint of East, and even a bit of North up my sleeve. But my wagon tracks to the West stop dismally short in central Iowa. The wagon (well, car) tracks won't change a bit, considering I'm flying to Boulder, Colorado tomorrow afternoon, but the idea is the same. Honorary wagon tracks, I'll call them. My one-way ticket will deposit me in Denver tomorrow in the early evening, where my good friends Kat and Jeremiah will (hopefully) find me and drive me to Boulder. I harbor no lack of faith on their reliability; I'm completely confidant that they will be there at the appointed time and place. I just hope that I, myself, arrive successfully at the appointed time and place, and not in New York, Anchorage or Gwam. Again, more news on the relative success on this point of interest shall be provided at a later date.

I also just realized that the last time I reached my personal Western Frontier it was also to visit Kat at Grinnell College several years ago. As every good friend should, she is again helping me to explore new horizons. She's like my very own Sacajawea.

So just like L&C, I shall embark Westward into an unknown land! Unknown to me that is, but only until tomorrow.