The new page on the calendar tells me it is October.
I left Hungary in the middle of summer, and now it's almost the middle of autumn. I'm getting used to this hunting/travelling existence. As time has gone on, I have got accustomed to the daily life of the expedition. Re-reading my diaries, and browsing through the photos, bring back all my adventures. I'm a lucky man to have been able to do all this at such a young age. It will give me something to look back on when I'm getting a bit over the hill.
The hotel is right in the center of downtown Denver. Close by is the 16th Street Mall, which is both a shopping area and pedestrian street. How strange it is to suddenly see so many smartly-dressed people! In Alaska, even in the cities, people usually wear waterproof mountaineering clothes, sometimes camouflage, and boots and rucksacks. There they live much closer to nature, and you don't see many normal, limousine-type cars. Generally, their vehicles are Range Rovers, pickups, and various types of 4-wheel drives. Whereas, Denver is an average American metropolis, with the usual complement of eccentric characters found in such places. And there are definitely a lot of crazy people here.
This morning I slept late, partly because I was tired, and partly because I should have set my Fortis watch two hours ahead. I almost missed my breakfast, which would have put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. I go and sort out some money matters, and then return to the hotel.
In the afternoon I take a long walk to a sports store; the hotel staff tell me that it is the only place in the neighborhood that sells hunting equipment. The selection is poor, but I do buy a cap.
In the nearby Taco Bell restaurant I devour a huge plate of Mexican food that is as hot as hell; the next part of my schedule is the long-awaited, and much-deserved, appointment with the jacuzzi.
Tomorrow I'm moving on.
Chapter VIII.: Deer Hunter
Page 3
International Airport
Denver