There is no doubt that past generations used to be better equipped for the handling of grief. Our aseptic modern world has certainly done some incommensurable damages protecting us from all the vagary of life. It’s not all for the wrong reason, mind you. After all, life expectancy has improved and, statistically speaking, we’re simply less likely to face one of the harshest realities of life; its ending.
Of course, globalism and consumerism have brought deaths by the numbers on our shiny flat screen but there are just that; numbers. The covid-19 drama, tonight at 9pm.

The moment the covid-19 death rate passed the threshold of one thousand a day in France last year, the French newspapers, in unison, decided to report only the “deaths in hospital” and were quick to bury the rest of the dead. No pun intended, not today. The “numbers” were everything.

The most difficult part of grieving is that I have to force myself to not think. The wrong word, the wrong image – the wrong thought even – and I will break. But I must think. I need to think. Otherwise, guilt quickly settles in. “How dare you avoid the object of your grief? So soon, already?” says the accusing voice. 

Thinking about Tom Lincoln again, as he carefully assembles the wood planks of his wife’s coffin the day of her death. Would any of us be able to even stand?

Thinking about you mom. Rest in peace.

Something old…

I thought I would revisit this text I wrote about sixteen years ago. I only made a few corrections.

Without A Trace

 It seems strange that we don’t usually think about our own disappearance. 

I wonder why? Knowing that it is our only certainty in life. 

I have the feeling that it should be as meaningless as possible. I mean, when the time comes, I would like every question to be answered, everything to be said. I don’t want any interrogation remaining, any lingering doubts. Since matter – physically speaking – can’t be destroyed, I guess my second choice would be to have my hashes scattered to the wind. No place to remember or to grieve over. No monument to draw the sorrow and the fading memories of those I have left behind. Just the souvenir of the dust flying away… 

In essence, our lives do not offer much meaning. The “sound and the fury” seems more deafening to me as the years go by and the options are scarce. We can either be a creator (or maybe a destructor assuming there is, in fact, a difference) or we can choose to pass on the burden of the quest for meaning to our own children. That’s about all there is I reckon. 

I suspect that some people might make the choice of parenthood partly to remove the weight of this great responsibility off their own shoulders. No matter what happens after the first child is born, something will be left. The line won’t be broken and the quest will continue. 

For those – and me among them – without any well-defined and well-developed talent, it never seems to be a fair choice. In fact, it never seems to be a choice at all. In this perspective, I would almost understand why some choose the destruction of value, the destruction of lives, as a way of defining their passage on earth. 

No doubt; The idea of leaving without a trace is for most people unbearable. 

In essence I believe the few options come down to one single tiny and incredibly powerful necessity; to change our environment. To leave something that says; “From now on and only because of me, the world is different”. 

The impossibility of ever being sure of the potential influence of what will be left is the fuel that keeps the creator running. This is also why “doubt” is the unconditional and most faithful companion of the artist during his life. In the rare instances where “certitude” settles in, especially in the old age, I do believe that “suicide” can be a valid recourse. It should not be seen as a very powerful life statement really. It might simply signify that everything had been said and that death was running late. 

I can’t imagine something more offensive, more vulgar and arrogant than the current trend purporting that one is “killed by suicide”. Imagine, taking the last act of a mortal man and attempting to change its meaning while the victim can’t defend himself or even argue his own case. You must be proud. 

Story Time…

There was a story last week in the French newspaper. Apparently a 25 year old man confessed raping a 9 year old boy.

The boy actually made the accusation at first. After a quick interview by the police the rapist was released without being charged. A few days later, ten men – including the father of the child – showed up at the home of the rapist, beat the crap out of him and dropped his ass at the local police station after he had confessed of his crime.
He then confessed to the police as well.

It’s like a Christmas story really. Disney should be on top of that one if you asked me.

And yes, the French police seems to be as efficient these days as the French healthcare system.

White Ranch Park

So much better than yesterday’s lame Mt Galbraith…
White Ranch Park might become my favorite. Great views all around with many trails to choose from. Some, perfectly suited for trail running. Lots of options really. I did 9.23 miles but there are shorter & longer options too. Not crowded at all and plenty of room to step away from all those covid patients running around the park. jk.

Last photo: the house in the distance is actually for sale. If you have $5.5 million lying around. 13,919 sqft with 8 bedrooms 10 bathroom s. Also a wine cellar and an indoor swimming pool that reaches outside.

Bear Peak / Green Mnt

Hiking Green Mountain starting from South Mesa Trailhead is not really a thing (for good reasons) but I thought I’d give it a try.
It took 9 hours eleven minutes to complete for a total of 18.39 miles / 4621ft elevation gain.  I’ve managed to burn 3,727 calories in the process.
I’m still trying to get back in hiking shape / lose weight. I’ll post about this in a month. It’s going well for now.

Great views from Bear Peak as usual

Looking down at Boulder – Colorado University:

Summit of Green Mountain. That plate gives the direction of all the peaks in the distance.

That moment you look back at Bear Peak from the summit of Green Mountain and you realize you’re parked behind these, way down below.

Mt Falcon

I need to be reachable these days so I’m sticking to the front range. This time I went back to Mt Falcon. Only a stone throw away from last Saturday. Hiked all over Mt Falcon Park for a total of 9.19 miles.
Apparently a guy wanted to build a Summer house on top of those hills for the Presidents of the United States. That project died quickly but the piece of marble is still there.
The place is a bit crowded as expected. I’m glad I started at sunrise.


Staunton Park – Elk Falls

Garmin Fenix 6 just told me I didn’t get enough sleep and I should postpone my next workout. Yeah, that’s gonna happen. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.
Anyway, I hiked in Staunton Park yesterday for the first time. Went to Elk Falls. 13 miles round trip. Easy well packed snow for the most part except the last mile towards the fall which had about 14 inch of soft snow along the trail. Good workout.

Gym time

Since I have no desire to go to the gym these days I thought I’d buy an exercise bike. I should have done that last year really but better late than never I guess…

My “usual” gym routine when I train for something is to workout seven days a week for about 90 minutes (60′ cardio / 30′ weight) every day. Usually at 4:30am because the gym is less crowded except for the “regulars”.

I don’t have any goal but I’m sure I’ll come up with something later in the year…

More bread

I was right! I just had to reduce the water a little 🙂
Process below. I’m terrible at taking notes for baking but I think it’s accurate enough.


Poolish (24h in advance)
140g water
122g bread flour
1g of yeast

Actual bread recipe
250g warm water 90 degrees (F)
5g yeast
6g diastatic malt powder
400g all purpose
12g salt
(and all the poolish of course)

7:50am – mixing all ingredients (with minimum mixing)
9:10am – Folding #1
10:30am – Folding #2 and shaping
11:00am dumping in the hot dutch oven, scoring, covered => oven at 500F
11:15am reducing the oven to 430F
finishing baking


More snow…Maybe.

Every now and then the weather forecasters predict the snow storm of the decade. They’re usually wrong. Regardless, Denver (and the surrounding suburbs and cities) are bracing themselves.
It seems Monday will be a great day for grocery shopping. The reason being that grocery stores have been emptied by a terrified mob on Friday evening…
As for the snow…well, it just started lightly. Boulder, Colorado is expecting thirty inch (76cm). Denver? Up to twenty four inch (60cm).

Estes Park could see more than two meters of snow over the weekend. Good luck every one.

Sunday, 8am update – So far so good. Only a “reasonable” amount of snow…