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Traveling Will & Robin

Current travels: Three months in the wilderness of Siberia, Mongolia, and the South Pacific

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Tue
20
Jul '10

The Cruise: Colorado to Mexico

Hola, amigos. I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, but life’s been throwing me more curves than a Sir Mix-a-lot video. Since I got fired from my job at the carbonics plant a couple a weeks ago I’ve been rolling with my buddy Will and he asked me to write this guest post for him. Now I’m no internet dummy — I’ve surfed as many nudey pics as the next guy — but I didn’t know you could just write whatever you wanted. I probably wouldn’t even have done it, neither, but Will promised me to buy my rounds at any breweries we stop at, which is a fool’s bet on his part if you ask me.

So anyways, I met up with Will after he spent a week biking through Navajo country, but that’s his story to tell. We kicked it through Utah, which I learned is a bullshit state after the joker in the grocery store tried selling me this fake beer with only 3% booze in it, and I told him where he could stick it, since old Jim ain’t down for paying full price for half a beer. Anyway, it was a pretty sweet sight when we crossed into Colorado. Will was going on about how it was his fifth state and he loved the mountains and all this crap, but I just knew I’d be able to get a real brew. It was two Saturdays ago and the first city we hit was Cortez. I’d had enough so I laid my foot down — no more of this biking crap until we hit up the TWO brewpubs in town. A man has to refuel, amiright? Turns out they were both kind of crap, though, and this was back before I conned Will into buying my beer, so as usual I got the short end of the stick. The next day we stuck around town to watch the World Cup with some Dutch girls in a bar, which was pretty cool, then we ended up camping with them at Mesa Verde National Park. The girls were depressed about the game because apparently Dutch is the same as the Netherlands, which seems stupid to me. I mean, you don’t see me going around calling myself Jim and then explaining that no really it’s James, but that’s just one more reason I should be in charge of more shit.

Next day we hit Durango. Durango’s a pretty sweet town, since there’s a college there and I figured I’d be able to score some green, but no dice. Guess the college kids are too busy mountain biking and rafting and outdoor shit like that to help a brother out. After chilling for a day and a half and doing some bike stuff, we went to the Durango airport so we could head down to Mexico. I’m always down for a trip if I can afford it. People think I don’t like to travel just cause I don’t do it much, but it’s all a matter of finances. Usually after paying my rent and a bill or two each month, then putting aside enough for 5 or 6 cases of MGD, I barely have enough cash left over to buy a little weed and some gas for my car. Since I’m biking, though, I save that extra gas money, so I decided to splurge on a trip south o’ the border. Plus Will helped me out.

Passersby were amazed by the unusually large amounts of blood.

Some friends of Will were getting married down there in a town called Sayulita, which it turns out is about an hour north of Puerta Vallarta, which it turns out is over on the Pacific Ocean. We were staying with 3 of his friends from Madison, and the house we rented was crazy cool. I’ve seen a lot of nice tropical beach houses, since they shoot a lot of the SI Swimsuit photos in them, but this was way at the top. I spent about half the time in the pool and the other half in my thatch-roofed bungalow, taking just enough time out to drink the fresh margaritas that Gina made. The wedding was on Friday, and though I’m not one for a bunch of mushy girl stuff, even a man like me has to admit it came off pretty cool. It was all on this grassy cliff overlooking the ocean, and had Mexican food (I totally saw that coming), and best of all, an open bar. I threw out my best dance moves at the reception; no Credence, but the played a fair amount of MJ at the reception, which I can get behind, especially given that the dude’s dead now. Then we went into town and kicked it with the locals. I know my fair bit of Spanish — I can tell you the entire value menu at Taco Bell from memory — but I didn’t know what half of those dudes were saying. I was pretty pissed off when the bartender wanted 20 pesos for a god damn Corona, but then someone told me that that was like $1.50, so I ordered 3 more. Let’s just say that by the end of the night Mexico and Jim Anchower were getting along just fine.

We were leaving on Sunday and took a shuttle back to Puerta Vallarta. Mike and Gina had to leave first so me and Will, Robin and Craig cruised around the city for a few hours seeing the sights, as it were. Then it was back to Durango. Some lazy-ass stewardess in Phoenix didn’t show up for work so we didn’t get back until midnight. I had no idea where we were going to sleep that night since I didn’t have my car, which is usually my fall-back place to crash if my girlfriend kicked me out of her place, but some other cyclist that Will met in Durango picked us up from the airport and let us stay at his place. Thanks, bro.

On Monday Will took off towards Estes Park, but there’s some seriously steep shit to bike through between here and there, and I’ve had just about as much of this biking stuff as I need. It’s time to start living the good life, and I’d say I’ve earned it. I figure I look pretty buff now, so I can probably get some sweet tail when I get home. Plus I’ve saved up some dough, given as how my buddy Ron been paying me to stay in my place while I’m gone and I haven’t spent a dime to sleep this trip. Joke’s on him. Maybe I’ll even spring for a new wheel for the old Ford Fiesta so I don’t have to drive around on the little donut anymore. And I’ll practically be rolling in money once I sell this bike. I mean I had fun and all, but I’m pretty sure I’ve learned that biking is for pussies.