I've blogged about Mike before. He's part hero, part funky but mostly a good excuse to party like a chicken with your head cut off. Literally.
I wasn't going to miss Mike the Headless Chicken Festival this year. Too many years had passed since I had stood in the square outside city hall to "celebrate a long history of open minds."
The air in Fruita was a sweet mix of Russian Olive trees, desert dust and cheap beer, but the festive vibe of hundreds of people gathered for disco influenced line dancing with a man in a chicken suit was the perfect backdrop for the eclectic experience this town is known for....It was good to be home.
I sat back and reminisced with Sally, my talented aunt who is one of the founders of the festival and the hired guns behind the artistic themes for each year, trying to guess how many Peeps would be consumed and how the festival has grown. Stopping buy Mike's Store, I made sure to pick up a Mike Wear tank top with the official USDA Funky Chicken Grade trademark stamp.
My camera did not make the trip this year, so I was forced to try and capture the evening with my trusty iPhone. The results, not as I'd hoped.
But even if I did have a commercial grade camera at my side, this is an experience that could never be captured with a lens. This trip is a must do.
And if you are going to venture to Fruita to celebrate Mike, do yourself a favor and take your bike to experience the best mountain biking in the west. Or go see my friends at Over the Edge Sports and rent one. You'll be glad you did.