The Golden Buff Lodge in Boulder is not one of the crown jewels of the Best Western flag. The rooms are in need of renovation. But I like that the exterior hadn't changed much since 1978. It felt like old Boulder---my Boulder.
Every trip to that city is different. It seems to measure one's soul, to go there, and to compare it against previous versions of your self.
I even managed to squeeze in some disc golf, up along the Wonderland Creek Trail. Okki was surprised at how well I picked it up.
Along the course, we must have let about a dozen other groups play through, as we sat the benches drinking beer that we had brought along in our backpacks.
He bogied most of the Par 3 holes, but I mostly bogied or double bogied them.
So I pressed him right up to the last hole. I lost the bet and had to hop on
my foot 37 times, which I guess I wound up doing at the Fox Theater.
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