New Mexico: Farmington, Chaco Canyon, Albuquerque

As soon as I crossed the Colorado-New Mexico border, there seemed to be a noted difference in the landscape. Whereas in Colorado I had driven through some fairly mountainous terrain, with many buttes, mesas, and sandstone rimrock, New Mexico appeared more flat and there was more growth to be seen. This part of New Mexico is in fact still quite mountainous, so perhaps it was just a feeling I had, combined with the smaller, less deserted highway that I found myself on.

The last place I had visited in Colorado was the town of Cortez and Mesa Verde National Park, where I had seen the impressive cliff dwellings of the ancestral Pueblo people, also sometimes known as the Anasazi. There were two other locations where I wanted to visit this type of architecture, and they were both in New Mexico. The first one I went to the day after leaving Mesa Verde. This was Chaco Canyon, and it is located just south of the city of Farmington. I spent one night in this city and there isn't much for me to say about it. I went for a bike ride to find food but only ended up getting a bag of chips at a Natural Grocers dumpster.
Chaco Canyon National Historical Park is in a very remote location accessible only by one road, and it is one that is not well maintained, unlike the one leading to Mesa Verde National Park. Most of it is unpaved and feels like driving over a washboard. Once in the park, there is a 9-mile loop that can be driven, biked, or walked, and it showcases various pueblo settlements and ruins. This type of construction is very different from the cliff dwellings however, as it is built not into rock but right on the ground. Presumably the same culture built in both styles, and they each served a different purpose. I spent a few hours there cycling and walking around the ruins, and after seeing three or four of these settlements, felt that I had seen enough, so I got back to Dharma and we continued on our way.

Once in New Mexico, I stopped at the Apache Nugget Casino to get some food, then continued on. My original intention had been to go to Santa Fe first, then from there to visit Bandelier National Monument, which is the last of the three Ancestral Pueblo sites I had wanted to see. I also wanted to stop by Los Alamos and Taos, then make my way down to Albuquerque. As it turned out, I had no signal in most of northern New Mexico so I missed the turn I was supposed to take in order to get to Santa Fe, and by the time I regained a connection, I was closer to Albuquerque, so I went down there instead. This seemed like a good idea anyway, as I was running low on funds and Albuquerque, being a much larger city than Santa Fe, seemed to be a better place to replenish my finances.

Once in Albuquerque I drove to the northeastern part of the city as I wanted to visit Tim's Place first of all, and I thought I'd try to find an overnight spot nearby. Tim's Place is a restaurant I discovered online a while back, and it is probably one of the only reasons I wanted to go to Albuquerque. Tim Harris is man with Down's Syndrome whose parents bought him a restaurant which he owns, and what makes it unique, at least in my opinion, is that Tim makes a point of hugging everyone (if they are willing, of course) when they come into the restaurant. This struck me as a very touching (no pun intended) and heartwarming gesture, full of the kind of genuine affection and innocence one often finds in people with certain types of mental disorders, and I wanted to be part of the experience.

As I arrived in Albuquerque quite late that Monday night, the best place I found was in a credit union parking lot adjacent to a library, where I got free wifi. In the morning, as I was preparing my breakfast, there was a loud knock on my door, and a police officer was standing outside. She mentioned that someone from the bank had called in saying there was a strange van in their parking lot, and asked me when I was leaving. I explained to her what I was doing and promised to be on my way in a couple of hours. She was very courteous and understanding, and told me to be careful on my journey. This somewhat surprised me as I don't have the highest opinion of police officers, especially not American ones. So far my experience of Albuquerque and New Mexico in general had been quite pleasant, and I had a good vibe about it. Ironically enough, Albuquerque has the highest rate of police-inflicted shooting deaths in the entire nation, and I later joined a small protest at the new Albuquerque Convention Center, focused on this issue. It seems I was oddly lucky when it comes to police encounters in this city.

Out of the ten couchsurfing messages I had sent out to people in Albuquerque, I had only heard back from two, and only one was willing to meet with me. This wasn't very promising, but I looked through the events page and found Nikki, who had just moved into a new house and was looking for people to help her set it up. I promised I would be there. This was on the evening of my first full day in Albuquerque. I spent the day biking around looking for food, and did end up hitting a bonanza at a small food coop dumpster. That day I found three packs of deli lasagna (vegetarian), some wraps, lots and lots of bread, and some smoked turkey slices. After lunch I even found an apple tree in a park and picked up a dozen small green apples which were quite tasty.

I went to Nikki's house in the evening and met a few other people who were helping her out, and her aunt Mary. We did a few things around the house, like installing ceiling fans, light switch covers, closet rods, etc., and then we had a feast, which Nikki and Mary had prepared. I brought them some of the bread I had picked up that day, and we had great beer to wash it all down.
In the morning Mary invited me to have breakfast with her, and she made us French toast with more of the bread I had brought. I helped her with dishes and then left to try and find some work. In the next few days, while I was parked in front of Nikki's house, I spent a good few hours sitting at Starbucks looking for jobs, and trying to set up an account on a translation site I had decided to try.
I also made a call to my friend David in Edmonton, with whom I hadn't spoken for a while.  It felt great to talk to someone I feel close to.

My second evening in Albuquerque I met up with Efrain, who was the one couchsurfer who had agree to meet with me. He invited me to a local brewery where a band was playing. I don't think Efrain and I hit it off very well, to be honest. I found him difficult to talk to and quite self-absorbed. His friend, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten, joined us at Marble Brewery, and we sat there chatting until late. The next day I texted Efrain about something we'd discussed the previous night, but I never heard back from him. Perhaps he felt the same about me as I did about him.

I didn't have any luck finding work, and this was causing me some worry. In fact, I was once again finding myself in a slump, and again it was due to lack of money, inability to displace myself, and little meaningful human contact. These are things which have been plaguing me since I was in Saskatchewan, and I've been thinking about how to address them. I'll write more on this topic later on, however.

I moved to a different spot in Albuquerque on my third day. I had found a Wal-Mart part of whose parking lot abutted on a Krispy Kreme, and there I got free wifi. I was happy again. I walked to a park nearby in the evening and set up my slackline for the first time since arriving in the city. A middle-aged lady walked by at one point and started chatting with me about her life. She asked me if I had everything I needed and made me pinky-promise. I wonder if my promise to her was false. She insisted that we meet the next morning to smoke a joint, so we set up a date for 11 o'clock. The next day I was at the park at 11, but Julie was nowhere to be found. I waited until 11:30, then set up my slackline. I had a great session, then went in search of food and to meet a man who offered to pay me $300 for helping him buy a phone. I know, I was getting semi-desperate. I ended up meeting him much later than we had originally agreed, and couldn't get the phone for him, so I went back to Dharma. I spent the rest of the day in a low mood as I felt like I'd been disappointed twice that day. I replaced a fuse in Dharma with the help of my friend Ras in Calgary, and then drove to Bernalillo, a town just north of Albuquerque, next to Rio Rancho. This was Friday night, and Saturday I had found work holding a sign for five hours, and the same on Sunday.

I wasn't too excited about the work, nor the pay, which was $10/hr, but it was better than nothing, and so far that had been exactly what I had found: nothing.
When I arrived at the appointed location on Saturday morning, it was on an expensive estate which was being sold, and an auction was being held there by a liquidation company from Houston, TX.  As I stood waiting for the person I was supposed to meet, I chatted with a few of the workers setting up the auction, and eventually negotiated with the foreman so that I ended up working with him and his team instead of being a sign-holder. They had many hours of work on both days, and paid $12/hr, which at that moment sounded amazing to me. The work promised to be hard, but still more rewarding than five hours of standing on the street.

I had never been to an auction before, so this was a new experience for me. It was very fast-paced and exciting in its own way. The foreman, Moses, whom I was constantly tempted to call Mohammed, was a hard-ass and worked his team efficiently but not unfairly. We got fed lunch and supper on both days, and though I was drained by the time we were done each day, I felt satisfied. The people I was working with were a fun bunch, and I got to practice my Spanish all weekend as they were mostly Hispanic from El Salvador, Mexico, Ecuador, Argentina, and Puerto Rico. The company owner was Egyptian, so with one Canadian in the group, we were quite the multinational assortment.

Biking over to the estate on Saturday, I had ridden over some thorns and had a slow leak in my front tire. By the time the day was done, my tire was flat, but Moses offered to drive me home. I filled up my tire the next morning and figured that as it was a very slow leak, I would be ok for the ride. This was true, but by the end of Sunday my back tire was completely flat in turn. Pesky thorns. I didn't get a ride home this time around, but since I'd brought my pump with me, I made it back to Dharma at midnight, with my wallet full of money.

Those thorns had actually pierced both my inner tubes in multiple places, so after spending a couple of hours Monday morning meticulously pulling them out one by one, I decided I need new tubes. I cleaned up Dharma, and we headed back north to Santa Fe to meet Rob from couchsurfing. I felt positive again :)

Before I forget, I never did end up meeting Tim Harris. He isn't at the restaurant on Tuesdays, which was my first day in Albuquerque, and subsequently I didn't think I could afford to eat there, so I didn't go. I will, however, be passing through Albuquerque again on my way south in a few days, and this time I will definitely get a hug from Tim!

Moab, Archlands National Park, and the moneyless tribe

After leaving Grand Junction in Colorado, I had wanted to visit the Colorado National Monument but found out it cost $10 to get in to see it. I didn't feel like paying money for that kind of privilege, so I turned around and headed to Utah.

Moab, which was my destination, is an adventure town through and through, geared (no pun intended) towards 4x4 off-roading, cycling, climbing, and similar types of sports. It's basically a sport resort that thrives in the summer and goes dormant in winter.

My meeting with Daniel Suelo had been set for 2pm at the Moab library, and I arrived with half an hour to spare. I ate some lunch, and just as I was about to enter the library, I spotted a bicycle with a trailer attached to it, leaned up against a tree nearby. Around it were strewn various items including food and water, and this, for me, gave away Daniel's presence. I walked into the library, looking for the man whose face I knew from the cover of the book written about him by Mark Sundeen as well as a few photos on facebook.

Daniel was sitting in the back of the library, and he looked up as I approached. A shy smile lit up his face as we shook hands.  He mentioned that a few of the others were there with him as well, and briefly explained that there were now several people camped out with him, something he had alluded to in one of his earlier messages. One of these, Daryl came out to make my acquaintance, and then retreated back into the library.

Daniel and I sat under the tree where his bicycle was resting and proceeded to briefly get to know each other. We were eventually joined by Daryl, who is originally from Las Vegas, Adelaide from Ohio, and Jake from Salt Lake City. Daryl and Adelaide had come out to Moab to meet Daniel and stay with him, and Jake had met him while hiking in a canyon when Daniel was still staying in the caves. They had now relocated to the Moab wetlands after being evicted from the desert.

As we all sat under the tree chatting, a man appeared on a recumbent bike and brought us turkey soup and mashed potatoes from a school cafeteria. This was Pete, who is a friend of the tribe, and whose house sometimes serves as a base.

After a while we started to walk in the direction of Pete's house, stopping at a little hole-in-the-wall shop in an alley titled Fresh Moab Coffee. This is a tiny coffee roastery run by a local named Bob who has a coffee machine which anyone is free to use 24 hours a day, payment being on an honor basis.
We sat there for a bit, eating soup with potatoes, drinking coffee, and philosophizing. Afterward we made our way to Pete's, where I parked my van. I had hoped to be invited to Daniel's camp, which did indeed transpire. I packed my sleeping bag, some warm clothing, and we set off for the wetlands.

The trip from the town to Daniel's camp takes about 40 minutes on foot but I think it took us longer that night. We were loaded down with food and other stuff, plus it was dark, and we weren't in a rush.
We left the town behind and walked down through the wetlands, finally arriving at a spot within the treeline that serves as the moneyless tribe's camp. There were two teepees set up, one unfinished, a central area for a fire and seating, a spot behind the teepees where food was kept, and the beginnings of a well which Daniel had started to dig earlier.  At this point I can't quite remember whether we made a fire that night or not, but we eventually retired. I installed myself in the finished teepee together with Adelaide and Daryl, while Daniel and Jake slept outside.

The next morning, Wednesday, we had breakfast and chatted around the fire. We eventually dispersed, each going about their own business, and I made my way back to town with the intent to connect to the internet at the library and perhaps do some slacklining.  Along the way I took a dip in the very cold Colorado river, and felt clean and refreshed.
My first stop in town was the grocery store dumpster. Here I must back up a tad and explain how Daniel and the rest of the moneyless tribe obtain their food. Most of what they eat comes out of the garbage. It is a fact that a tremendous amount of food gets thrown away all across North America every single day, both by grocery stores and restaurants. Most of this food is still edible, either just expired or about to expire in a few days, which in no way makes it unpalatable. Many stores, especially bigger ones, either destroy all their garbage on the spot using large compactors, or lock up their dumpsters. Some encourage their employees to destroy whatever food gets thrown away by pouring chemicals such as bleach on them, sometimes even resorting to using rat poison. This is a sad fact which compounds an already depressing phenomenon, that of large-scale food waste. In fact, North America is not alone in this as food is thrown away all over the world. Fortunately many places, especially in Europe, are now taking steps to reverse this process either by producing less waste or simply by donating whatever is unsold directly to charities.
I had known about this for a while now and had in fact tried diving into a dumpster once in Edmonton, but somehow I couldn't get into it fully (not the dumpster, the habit), in large part because I never had a real need to obtain food freely, but also because of an aversion I naturally harbored towards food from the garbage. Recently I had been following the exploits of Rob Greenfield, an American man who has several times cycled across the United States, eating only out of dumpsters, in order to showcase this terrible habit we have of wasting good food. Rob actually collects enough food to feed large numbers of people.

I wanted dumpster diving to be part of my current lifestyle, but I needed that extra push, as it were. Spending time with Daniel turned out to be this push. My first foray into a dumpster was on Wednesday. I pulled out a huge deli sandwich, a pack of donuts, a kiwi fruit, a box of strawberries, a container of potato salad, and a box of crackers. Lunch was served. I found this extremely liberating and have since eaten primarily out of dumpsters. Every day I have found bunches of bananas, all kinds of fruits and veggies, bread, and a variety of other foods. It is important to be circumspect when eating from the garbage as some food may in fact be spoiled, but a quick glance at the appearance of each item as well as a sniff test quickly reveals the freshness (or lack thereof) of this bounty.

After my wonderful free lunch, I grabbed a coffee at FMC, spent a few hours on the internet, then went on a bike ride and returned to camp after dark. When I got back only Daniel was up, playing his flute in the second teepee, which had been fixed up that morning, and which now became his sleeping spot. Daryl and Adelaide had gone for a free church dinner, and we had been joined by Julia, another regular within the tribe who tends to come and go, and her friend Tory. Jake had left that morning and I didn't see any more of him afterward.

Thursday morning I was invited to an ayahuasca ceremony by Julia, to be held at sundown. I went to town for the day, repeating my routine from Wednesday, but did end up finding a slackline park in Moab, upon Tory's recommendation. This is a park established by the town of Moab specifically for the purpose of slacklining, something I hadn't seen before. It was close to a skate park and consisted of a square of sand with large wooden posts for attaching lines to. I hung out there for an hour and then headed back to camp in order not to be late for the ceremony. When I arrived, Daryl and Adelaide were preparing to leave as they didn't wish to take part in the ceremony, each for their own reason. This left myself, Daniel, Julia, and Tory. The ingredients used for the ceremony, which we had discussed in the morning, were not the same ones used by shamans in the Peruvian Amazon, who created this ritual. We used substitutes that contained the same active ingredient, DMT (Dimethyltryptamene) and MOAI (Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor).

Ayahuasca was something I'd wanted to try for a long time, and this unexpected opportunity caught me by surprise. I was excited to find out what would happen. I had been told that analytical people (such as myself) sometimes don't feel the effects of this drug mix, and in fact I had tried magic mushrooms in the past, with no effect. In a strange way I both hoped that something would happen and that it would not.

We first took a handful of dried Syrian rue, which is a source of DMT, then waited half an hour. Afterward we went to sit in a meadow in order not to vomit in the camp. The normal reaction to ayahuasca is vomiting as one of the ingredients is a purgative. We each drank a cup of acacia confusa, the source of MOAI, and waited. After half an hour or so, each of us retired to our own space, without having puked. I lay in my sleeping bag with my eyes closed, waiting to see what would happen. I must have fallen asleep because I woke up when Daryl and Adelaide returned to camp. They had gone to watch a movie at a friend's place in town, but after waking up I felt like it was morning, though only a few hours had elapsed. I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary except for painful cramps in my lower intestines. I felt as if I had to relieve some pressure there, but nothing wanted to come out. I endured this for a few hours and eventually slept again. In the morning all was fine and I felt neither side effects nor any residual pain.

We discussed this experience around the breakfast fire and concluded that the concoction had been too weak. None of us had vomited, though all besides me had in fact seen visuals of varying intensity. I'm still hoping that it wasn't simply my analytical mind that prevented me from experiencing anything special, and perhaps one day I'll get to try ayahuasca in its original form, ideally in the Peruvian Amazon.

The rest of the morning went by languidly with chatter, jokes, and lunch preparation. Adelaide made us soup from a bunch of vegetables and mushrooms we had obtained from the dumpster, and we ate it with bread. After this I packed up my things, said goodbye to everyone, and walked back to camp. On my way I took another dip in the frigid river and felt wonderful. By the time I got to my van I was sweaty again, and exhausted. My plan was to stop at a bike shop to pick up a second bottle cage, grab a last coffee at FMC, and head off towards Arches National Park.

I did all this, and hit the road around 4pm. I got to the northern part of Arches within an hour, parked, and hiked up to Delicate Arch, a gorgeous natural sandstone arch which graces Utah license plates. By the time I got back to the van it was dark, so I headed back to town in search of a laundromat to wash my sleeping bag, and a place to spend the night.

My experience with Daniel Suelo and his friends was not only eye-opening, but extremely pleasant, and I've certainly learned from it.  Daniel himself is a multi-faceted man with a fascinating background and a unique philosophy on life. He is talented both linguistically and musically, able to converse in Spanish, and playing different instruments such as guitar and flute, but besides that he is well read, informed, quick-witted and always ready with a joke (often of the "that's what she said" variety) or pun. He is warm and friendly and despite rejecting money and the comforts of the capitalist system he is no Luddite and certainly not anti-social. For me it was a tremendous pleasure to finally meet one of my inspirations and to spend time living life the way he does. I will carry this memory with me as I continue on my journey across the world.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to head back to Colorado to see Mesa Verde and the Anasazi cliff dwellings, and then onward to New Mexico. New adventures await me.

Additional thoughts on Denver

I realized after finishing my post about Denver that I didn't say anything about my feelings on this city. My experience there taints any objective impression I may have, of course, but overall I would say that despite pockets of progressiveness and a pleasant sort of civility, the city of Denver is busy, fast-paced, and hectic, and the people are far less friendly there than in smaller American cities I've visited so far.

My worst experience in this regard relates to cycling. Denver touts itself as a biker-friendly city, the same way that its northern neighbour, Boulder, does. I would disagree. The fact that there are bike lanes on certain streets and that many people do in fact cycle on a regular basis does not a city biker-friendly make, in my opinion.
Whenever I ventured onto a street devoid of a specified cycle lane, and didn't hug the curb or parked cars quite closely, I was honked at, yelled at, sworn at, and once even heckled to the sound of a blaring horn by two young men in a jeep, which made me quite worried, considering the impression I have of the USA as a gun-friendly and often trigger-happy nation.
Most drivers in Denver don't seem to realize that a cyclist is entitled to take the entire lane just as a car is, and they expect people on bicycles to get out of their way, or perhaps ride inches away from the curb or parked cars, which in my opinion is more dangerous than taking the lane as it gives drivers the freedom to share the lane with a cyclist and thus often come close to hitting them, or perhaps forcing them out of the lane altogether.

Besides that, I noted that most houses in the older parts of the city are built using bricks and mortar, something I wasn't accustomed to coming from Canada, where everything is built with woodframe, and it struck me as somewhat quaint, in a good way.

Overall I would say I'm glad that I visited this city, but I certainly would never consider moving there on a more permanent basis. What balanced out my negative impressions however were the wonderful people I did meet and had the chance to interact with, and for this I'm deeply grateful. This once again leads me to conclude that it is the people one encounters in a place that make the deepest impression and that in fact "make" the place.

Denver, CO

Denver, for me, evoked a mixture of feelings and impressions. When I arrived, it was already late, so I found a place to camp at a Sam's Club. It was a cold evening and even taking my bike out to find some food was not pleasant. I was close to Quebec Street, which is a busy road that runs north to south through the entire city. It seemed  busy even at night, and I didn't have the best vibe from the area I was in.
The next day I found myself in a state of mind which dictated that I must find work right away, otherwise I would be stuck without money, so I imposed a good bit of pressure on myself and set about looking for jobs on Craigslist. This was the first time I had tried to find work in the US and I didn't know how difficult it would be. I responded to a bunch of ads, mostly by email, and eventually ended up taking a long bike ride to see about a commission-based job handing out flyers for hail damage on cars. I spent the rest of the evening walking around an office complex and a residential neighbourhood putting flyers on windshields of cars that had hail damage on them. I didn't feel very optimistic about the prospects I had for earning money this way, but I figured that I had nothing to lose and all it would take would be two or three claims for me to earn my target financial sum.
That night I was invited to a beer-tasting and raffle by Tenny, a lady I'd met on couchsurfing. Afterward as I was walking back to my van, I was accosted by a young man named Sean (or Shaun, Shawn, etc.), who recognized what I was up to just by looking at my van. We chatted for a few minutes, discussing my trip and his own life journey, after which he wished me well and went along his way. I felt encouraged, even revitalized, by this encounter.

The next day I did the same job as Thursday, but felt even worse about it, plus I was exhausted from all the walking. This was Friday and I decided I had had enough of walking around. I got a text from another poster I'd responded to about work at a horse stable, hauling hay bales on Saturday morning. I drove down to Parker, which is a suburb just south of Denver, and on Saturday I spent close to eight hours hauling hay bales. The work was hard and dirty, but the people I worked with were great, they bought everyone lunch, so overall I can't say it was a terrible experience. Afterward I relaxed for a bit, found a great bakery called La Panera, which is a chain across the US and where I intend to buy bread from whenever I can't find any in a dumpster.

I had arranged to meet a lady named Rae from couchsurfing, who invited me to her house in downtown Denver. I arrived quite late but she didn't mind, and I met a bunch of other fun people at her place. I took a hot shower and shaved, something I'd needed to do for a long time, and felt much better afterward.
Rae and her friends had finished supper by the time I was done with my ablutions, so we proceeded to sit in the living room and exchange stories over drinks. At one point we got into a heated discussion about GMOs, with me being on the supporting side and everyone else being opposed. From this I've learned to be more circumspect about some of my more controversial views. Having said that, however, despite the passion that this topic brought out in Rae, she told me the next day that she appreciated the opportunity to express herself about something she feels strongly about, and for the rest of the time that I spent with her it remained a conversation piece that came up between us on several occasions, and which we discussed in a very civil manner.

On Sunday I relaxed, and at night I joined the weekly couchsurfing social mixer at The Fainting Goat, a three-story bar with a patio on Broadway Avenue, which is one of the more popular entertainment districts in that city.

The next job I picked up was delivering cabinets, which reminded me of the work I used to do in Edmonton. I was hired by Victor, a self-employed Denverite who has been building his business of moving and deliveries, having started in a similar manner as I had a couple of years earlier, with just a pickup truck and his muscle. We spent the day on two deliveries of very expensive kitchen cabinets, and then I took a long bus ride back to my van.

On Tuesday I went to work at a metal shop, sanding steel rods. This was tedious work that left me feeling sore and slightly depressed by the time four o'clock rolled around. I didn't relish the idea of doing the same thing until the end of the week, but I told myself to persevere as that would be my ticket out of Denver and back on the road, where I seem to be happiest. Wednesday I did more or less the same thing, but I felt much better about it. After work I cycled to City Park and set up my slackline, for the first time since leaving Regina with a foot infection. It had been close to three weeks, but I finally managed to execute a double drop knee on the line, which I was very pleased with. On Thursday we changed things up and I went to help Matt, one of the other employees, who was putting the finishing touches on a steel staircase they had installed in a very ritzy new home. This work was much better, and over the course of the day I got to know Matt quite well and he invited me to stay at his house that evening and to meet his wife Cris. I went there after work, had some food and delicious pumpkin beer, and we chatted about life until the late evening. The next day I was treated to coffee and a wonderful smoothie, after which I said goodbye to Cris and went to work with Matt for one last time.
He and I spent the day applying a patina on the staircase, which left my hands slightly burning and stained, and then we parted with a warm hug.

What I forgot to mention earlier was that during my job search earlier in the week, I got a text from a young lady, Kate, who had just moved to Denver from New Jersey, and she needed someone to help her carry her mattress upstairs to her apartment. Her place was quite far from where I was, however, so I declined and suggested that she ask a neighbour for help. She ended up texting me later on and we chatted for a bit. Friday night we went for supper together at a local vegan restaurant, which was delectable!

I spent the weekend parked in front of Rae's house on Detroit street, which is in a lovely part of Denver. We did some gardening on Saturday together with Tim "Agave", one of Rae's housemates, then I attempted to make a vegetarian jambalaya in my van, and in the evening I spent a few hours reading at the nearby Tattered Cover bookstore.
Sunday was gloomy so I moped around for the most part, then Kate rescued me from my gloom by taking me for a walk around downtown Denver. We took a bunch of photos, rode the free mall bus on 16th street, and grabbed some hot chocolate and pastries at a corner bakery.

Monday morning rolled around, and I rolled out. I can't say I was in a hurry, though I wanted to get to Moab by night time. This didn't happen as by the time I went to the bank to pick up my new debit card, had some lunch, went to the sani dump, filled up on gas, and bought a coconut at an Asian supermarket, it was four o'clock. I left Denver during the worst of rush hour, and made my way west to Red Rocks Amphitheatre, which I'd wanted to check out since I found out it was so close. I spent an hour walking around the gorgeous site, taking photos, and as it cooled off from a warm day, I hit the road again, headed west.
On my way I picked up Lorraine, an older lady who was (and probably still is) hitchhiking from Ohio to California. We got to Grand Junction, just east of the Utah-Colorado border, around 11pm, and I dropped Lorraine off at a truck stop. I spent the night parked at a truck stop myself, a first on this journey, and in the morning I continued westward toward Utah and my upcoming meeting with Daniel Suelo, The Man Who Quit Money.

My dilemma with meeting good people.

One of the main reasons for my current journey around North America is meeting people. Not just any people, either: I'm looking to meet good people. What do I mean by "good people"?
Well, my intent is to get to know people whose values align with mine, people who are empathic, generous, open, and those who exhibit kindness towards others.

The ways in which I do this are in part intentional and in part accidental. Wherever I go, I try to connect with certain people on couchsurfing.org, and I'm starting to look into other similar networks such as mealsharing.com and meetup.com. I look for a particular type of person when I attempt these connections, and the criteria are often those I've mentioned above.
The incidental way in which I meet good people happens, well...incidentally. For example, through a job I picked up in the past week I got to meet Matt, who works at a metal shop, and he introduced me to his wife Christiana. They are a wonderful couple who have traveled and volunteered in developing countries and thus have an increased empathy and a broad outlook on life and the world, which in many ways match my own.
While looking for ways to earn money in Denver, I ended up texting with Kate, who had advertised for someone to help her move her bed to her new apartment. We ended up going for supper together at a vegan restaurant and I had a wonderful time getting to know her and her perspectives.

In theory, then, the longer I stay in one place, the more "good people" I will meet. This was the case in Edmonton, where I spent seven years. I met people from all walks of life thanks to my varied pastimes, studies, and jobs, and I came away with a diverse network of friends and acquaintances, some of whom I will keep close to my heart for the rest of my life.

Herein lies my dilemma, then: According to the theory mentioned above, if I want to meet more good people, I should stay in one place longer. At the same time, there are good people everywhere, so I could be in any city in the world and still meet good people. How do I find a balance between staying and going?

At the moment I am impelled by my drive to continue on my journey and thus to go from place to place and in each one to establish quality connections and relationships whenever possible. Each time this happens, however, it makes me wonder if one more day would bring one more meaningful connection, one more wonderful human being, into my life.

I suppose that as long as I am engaged in this perambulation, the answer to the dilemma is fairly straightforward, but as a thought exercise it is still perplexing.

Another question which arises from this discourse is whether there is a limit to "good people" in any one place. If I base this group on a certain set of criteria then logically there must be a limit to this number. Without going into an impossible mathematical calculation then, it seems that traveling in pursuit of a dispersed network of qualified individuals is the better solution, at least when it comes to the optimization of my time which, given my limited years, is a necessity.

So, with all this in mind, I prepare to spend my last day in Denver before heading west to Moab, Utah, where I hope to make a strong connection with one of my biggest inspirations, Daniel Suelo.

Wyoming: Casper, Cheyenne, Laramie

I passed through Wyoming in three days. Wyoming is the least populated state in the US, the population being somewhere around 560,000, which is just over half the population of metropolitan Edmonton.
There doesn't seem to be much along the way which I took south from Billings besides beautiful landscapes, of which I shot a bunch of photos.

My first stop was in the city of Casper, where I spent the night, grabbed a coffee in the morning, and continued south. My initial plan had been to go to Cheyenne, spend a day there, then do the same in Laramie but when I got to Cheyenne it was raining, in fact it seemed the rain had been following me from Billings, so I got some lunch and continued to Laramie the same day. There wasn't really anything I'd wanted to see there, so it didn't seem like much of a loss.

Laramie is a nice college town and I enjoyed a somewhat chilly bike ride around the downtown area, spent some time in a stylish coffee shop, then went for a walk and took pictures of the Laramie Mural Project.
Before crossing into Wyoming I had sent out five couchsurfing messages in both Cheyenne and Laramie, but had gotten no response. I finally got a message from one guy in Laramie, which was perfect since I'd almost decided not to stop there at all and to head straight to Denver, CO.

I met up with Dan Toro in the evening after he was done work. Dan is an artist and in fact was one of the people who contributed to the Laramie Mural Project. He was a great host and brought us pizza and beer, which we shared over a very pleasant conversation. We parted late at night and the next day I drove out towards Colorado.