When I think of Durango in future, it will almost certainly be set in my mind along side the colour turquoise. There will be a taste of honey on my tongue, and I'll no doubt have a hankering to throw on a cowboy hat and just slow down a little. My experience of Colorado so far has been most therapeutic. My only previous visit to this state has been the Denver airport, where I once drank a pumpkin frappuccino on Halloween and walked about 20 miles whilst trying to find an illusive departure gate. It's funny what you remember.
By this point in the trip our bodies were opting for the most leisurely activities, which wound up with us spending our final day at a lake in Animas Valley, reclined at the waters edge, sharing our picnic with a chipmunk.
Our journey back into town took us past 'Honeyville', which- amid the giant rainstorm we were caught in- sang to me like a choir of angels. I was inside that place before Forrest had even parked the bike.
To my delight there was a real beehive inside a glass case and a pipe through which bees could buzz in and out of the building, quite at their leisure. We emerged from the store an hour later weighed down with more honey than you could shake a stick at, and high as kites from all the flavours we'd sampled. Seriously though- amaretto honey? Cinnamon? Spiced apple? I challenge you to resist. My Nanna used always used to say my eyes were bigger than my belly, as I'd lie beached after some cookie raid or other. Old habits die hard. I am a piglet.
So I was becoming a little teary eyed and sentimental about this place. We were sleepy and almost ready to be home, but goodness knows I've fallen head over heels for Colorado. The cool air, every view being unique and beautiful, the lakes, the wildlfe, and my own heightened awareness and appreciation of all these things. On the flipside, I will not miss John Denver playing on repeat in my head and on the radio, as if it's the price that must be paid for being here. 'Colorado Rocky Mountains High'- goodbye and goodbye.
So it was time to pack our bags and get skidaddling. The GPS was again stating '659 miles until your next turn', and energy drinks were back in style. Somewhere in Oklahoma we snatched 4 hours of sleep, sleep-walked to the coffee machine, wondered if our brains were still knocking around inside our skulls somewhere, then hit the road for another 17 hours without later remembering a single mile of it.
But of course it isn't all yawns and wails of despair, because it was hard to suppress a smile every time I thought of what awaited us at home. Rudy, the world's biggest, bestest puppy did everything he could to restore our enthusiasm in being back here. The boy is a champ, I think I'm glad to be home :)