So, my first year living in Laramie and going to UW is done. Funny, doesn't quite feel like a whole year has come and gone. I can still vividly remember arriving, amazed at the tiny-ness of the town, out of breath (the altitude!) and fairly disoriented after the long flight. Reading my blog entry from one week after arrival, it seems like I was both stressed and pretty happy all at once. In a way, that hasn't changed that much: I still enjoy the hell out of living here, and there's still a lot going on. Between the excellent climbing, the beautiful surroundings (saw one of the prettiest sunsets of my life yesterday), the difficult-but-interesting research and what turned out to be an interesting night life, I'm both busy and entertained. Can't really ask for much more than that.
It's also almost exactly a year since I met Joe, who's probably the very first friend I made in Laramie. He's also my roommate since a few months back, and very handy to have around the house. For instance, he's always ready to go to war to protect our beloved garage from insect invasion:
But I think he's kinda lost it when it comes to yard maintainence, though: there ain't no grass, Joe!
Summer has also come and gone. If you count from the last snows (June 11) to the first week of sub-freezing temperatures at night and constant rain (August 11-17), it worked out to exactly two months. They were two absolutely gorgeous months, though, with possibly the best summer weather I've ever experienced and the best climbing season I've ever had. But it's over, or at least heading that way. The sun is now solely responsible for all warmth, nights are getting toward frosty, and you can smell the autumn in the air. You know that crisp, slightly moist, smell of dying vegetation? Yeah, that one. Although there will be many fine warm days to come - we were up past 80 F again yesterday - summer is for all intents and purposes finito. Time to start heading to Lander, Fremont Canyon, Colorado and the deserts of the south to keep the climbing season going. It's looking pretty grim around here:
Buying a car is something I've been thinking about for quite some time - since, say, September last year. I'd occasionally go into Car Search Mode and spend a week or so checking out the local used car market, and inevitably be severely disappointed. Laramie isn't big enough to produce that many used cars (imagine going shopping for one in Knivsta for comparison), and most of them are of the Gigantic Gas Guzzling Truck variety. I was on the lookout for something small, Japanese and cheap, which turned out to be quite the elusive objective. Last week I finally broke down and decided to just buy something that would keep rolling for a little while. I spent some time scouring craigslist and the local classifieds before heading down to Fort Collins, which is about the size of my home town Uppsala. After a brief search and some very tasty sandwiches, I came upon this beauty:
A mid-nineties Toyota Camry sounded like a good idea in general, and after a cursory inspection and some slight bargaining I closed the deal - much to Amanda's shock and dismay. A multi-thousand dollar "impulse buy" was a bit beyond what she considered sane, but I hate shopping and was most pleased to have concluded the painful task of finding an automobile. The seller drove it up here on Monday, and I can see it parked outside my house from where I'm sitting right now. The car seemed eerily familiar to me, but I couldn't place it until my dad reminded me that a station wagon Camry had been his first company car sometime in the early nineties. I mostly remember it for being light blue (a nice color) and having the awesomely cool power windows. So now my horizons have widened about 1000% and I can drive to... well, not much, actually, since Wyoming is mostly empty, but nonetheless. I celebrated by driving to Cheyenne along scenic Happy Jack Road and having Korean for dinner (not available in Laramie). Life's looking up, or at least it's looking faster. And look what else I found in Fort Collins!
And as usual, I've been climbing. Not that much lately, given the weather and other committments, but progress has been pretty steady this season. I'm bleeding less and less, which is either a sign that I'm getting better (probably) or just not trying as hard (also likely). Pete Takeda, professional climber/author/funny fucker, came up to visit after a lengthy period of injury. He started out pretty skinny, which helped on the finger cracks, and he's even thinner now. Bob Scarpelli obviously took the other approach:
Other than that, nothing much to report. The semester starts again in about a week, and if I play my cards right I should be able to get out of taking classes this semester, greatly enhancing my scientific productivity and reducing my irritation about wasted time by up to 235%. Campus should also be inundated with undergrads, now mostly born in the 90's, presumably not knowing shit about shit. And overcrowding my favorite bars. Why, oh why couldn't summer have lasted a bit longer?
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