FEELING GO - BOULDER

(REMEMBER: IF YOU'RE MENTIONED BY NAME ITS COS I LOVE YOU DEARLY. IF YOU'RE NOT, ITS ONLY TO PROTECT MYSELF IN THE LIBEL COURT)

After the mad cap madness of THE MYSTERY TRAIN and the cowboy isoloation of Raton, I needed a few days just to kick back and try and get my head together. And what better place to do that than in the Rocky Mountains. I took the early morning bus from Colorado Springs where I had spent the night after the MYSTERY TRAIN journey, arriving in Denver around 10:30 am. The town was dead, even for a Saturday, I couldn't see what Kerouac and the boys had seen to be so buzzing about the place. A transport cop pointed me in the right direction and I caught the bus to Boulder.

I checked into a clean but sparse hostel 'On The HIll' - this is the area of town where the college kids go to party. I popped out for a sandwich, fancied a beer, and didn't get much further than THE SINK - a cool hang out of a bar where Robert Redford used to be janitor.

I got chatting with a couple of lads - DJ and KJ, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening on the piss with them. They knew most of the staff in the bars on The Hill, and that translated into free beers for them and me - GEDDIN!!

The next couple of days were spent walking around the hills and mountains with a Danish guy called Klaus. I took myself up to about 12,000 feet, you could feel there was a lack of oxygen, but the HUGE fresh tracks (Bear? Mountain Lion? Overactive imagination caused by oxygen deprivation?) I found in the snow let me know that even out here in the wilderness, I wasn't alone.

Me at the snout of Andrews Glacier, Rocky Mountains National Park.

The blisters I got walking more or less had me bed ridden for the next couple of days, but I did managed to pop to town top get some photos developed. Incidentally, should any of you reading this find yourselves in Boulder Colorado, needing some photos developed, DON'T go to the drive in photo development shop on Broadway near Pearle St. - The facists charged me the equivalent of forty quid for three films.

My last night was spent out on the razz again with Coda and Jason, cool two yanks I met in the hostel. Coda had dreads and some wonderfully exotic and beautiful dogs, husky and malamute crossbreeds.

I could have stayed in Boulder for a long, long time, and that's not because I couldn't walk, or because Mork and Mindy was filmed there. But all good things must come to an end, especially when you've arranged to meet 'Tori' Andrew Cole, deep underground Bath Beat 'Music-try' pioneer and lone would be dirty love desperado 800 miles and two days away.

Andrew Cole: Poet For Rent.

NOW READ ON....

BACK TO THE TOP OF FEELING GO?