Colorado (un)Bound

It’s the first time since 2002 that Colorado doesn’t feel like home—and I only say that because nowhere is home, and everywhere is home, all at once.

Technically, Colorado is still my legal residence while I sort my life out. But change is in the air—unbound from the usual ties that once brought me back after every trip.

I’ve become much more comfortable with the idea of being “homeless.” I re-read a few of my recent blog posts and realized how often I fixated on that word—probably because it was new… and terrifying. Now, a few weeks in, the fear has settled. I’ve had time to process, and life moves forward.

When I land back in Grand Junction on May 2nd, I’ll sort through the few remaining belongings tucked away in storage and decide what I can finally let go of. My goal is to get rid of everything—and travel with just one carry-on-sized suitcase. It’s ambitious, but as Elisabeth reminded me a few weeks ago: “Comfort is where dreams go to die.”

Seventy-two days have passed on this leg of the journey. 162 since I left home in November. Only two nights spent in Colorado since then. Nearly six months—gone in the blink of an eye. I haven’t driven a car this entire time, so… watch out, GJ. If you see me behind the wheel, head for the sidewalks.

The people have far outshined the places. I’ve met soooo many new friends and reconnected with my cruise family—chosen family. I adore you all. Some of you are constant supporters. Others are curious onlookers. That’s fine too. I’m fortunate, either way.

The last four nights have been wonderful. Ed and Patrea—friends from the LA to Tokyo sailing in August 2024—were onboard again and were truly the main reason I booked this trip. When I saw the schedule aligned, I couldn’t think of a good reason not to take a four-night Carnival booze cruise to the Bahamas. They remain some of the kindest, gentlest, and most spectacular people I’ve met. Maybe it’s their Aussie roots, or the mini koala bears and Vegemite samples they hand out. But I think it’s just because they’re genuinely extraordinary humans who roam the world by sea. I can’t wait to sail with them again—hopefully sooner rather than later.

At the end of the day, they’re cruise family. Just like so many of you.

Looking ahead, I feel new shoots beginning to sprout. Maybe they’ll take root—or maybe they won’t. But somewhere, sometime in the future, I hope these seeds of change grow steadier than the wind that catches my sail.

Read that again. Words have meaning.

—Cole.

From here today. There tomorrow.

50 countries and counting