So, we hit the dusty trail for Centennial State, land of legendary proportions (according to the brochures at least). “Nil Sine Numine” their damn motto brags – that’s Latin for “Nothing without Providence” to the fancy loopers, “Nothing without God or Jesus” to the Latin-challenged loopers, and “Nothing without a decent hot spring” to yours truly. Speaking of which, the pickings between Colorado Springs and Fort Collins are about as slim as a supermodel’s patience at a buffet. But hey, that’s a story for another sleep-deprived rant.

The High Life (and Cost): Denver’s got colleges galore, from fancy-pants Metropolitan State to the University of Colorado Denver. But who needs fancy degrees when you’ve got mountains to climb and brews to guzzle? Speaking of brews, Denver may not be a literary hotspot (no Hemingway haunts here), but the Tattered Cover bookstore keeps those bookworms in hard-cover contraband.

Now, let’s talk about the locals (they can be a smug lot): All Lululemon and kale smoothies, bragging about their 14ers (mountains, you squares) and epic hikes. Hitting those trail heads, however, can be like trying to score tickets to a Taylor Swift concert, only sweatier and with less glitter.

Famous Loopers and Fickle Weather: Colorado has produced its share of famous people. Buzz Aldrin moonwalked on the damn thing! Tim Allen makes us laugh (sometimes). Wes Anderson… well, he makes movies that look like paintings. But don’t forget Molly Brown, the “Unsinkable” one, who chilled at the Brown Palace Hotel after surviving the Titanic (spoiler alert: the hotel wasn’t named after her).

The weather here’s a crapshoot. Tourists love the sunshine, but locals know it can turn on a dime, throwing a May blizzard or a windstorm your way faster than you can say “Rocky Mountain High.”

The “Green Solution” (and Everything Else): Tourism’s a big deal here, along with Maryjane, aerospace, and energy (both the fossil fuel kind and the new-fangled renewable stuff). It’s a land of opportunity for upwardly mobile yuppies: beautiful scenery, killer jobs, and a chance to wear yoga pants every damn day. Just be prepared to shell out some serious bucks for that privilege. Living here costs more than a Kanye West rant.

The Beer Olympics (and Ronnie’s Redemption): Now, Ronnie Hays, bless his hop-soaked heart, could deal with all the downsides because of one glorious event: The Great American Beer Fest. One day a year, he’d adorn himself with a pretzel necklace the size of a Texas T-bone and sample the finest craft brews the nation had to offer. It was a communion of hops and happiness, a bacchanal of barley, a… well, you get the picture.

The Vox Populi That Fizzled: We tried, folks, we really did, to get the lowdown on Colorado’s state motto from the local loopers themselves. But alas, the Fort Collins library was more interested in actual library things than our “vanity project.” We did finally confab with some born-again loopers offering “free bible lessons” on a park bench. Maybe it’s a sign, huh? Maybe Colorado leans more “God-fearing” than Ronnie initially thought.

This whole experience, though, was a lesson. It turns out preconceived notions can be about as useful as a chocolate teapot in a sauna bath. We met some lovely loopers (bless you, Larry and Jan Johnson!), but mostly, well, let’s just say these Colorado transplants aren’t exactly into non-mission-critical chatter.

The Ballad of Ronnie Hays and the Silent Transplants: So, here’s the takeaway: this little odyssey, fueled by personal experience, questionable research, and a handful of, uh, colorful encounters, has brought forth a new verse for Woody Guthrie’s classic:

In Colorado…
You might come empty…
When seeking confab… with the local gentry…
You have to dig in… the nooks and crannies…
Transplants are freakin’ everywhere.

Stay tuned, folks, for the next stop on the H.S.O.B. (Hot Springs or Busk) Tour! We’re heading out with a renewed sense of wonder and a thirst for… well, you can probably guess. Next stop: Nebraska!

Onward through the fog… R.H.