The Music Could Never be to Loud

Mike Bohorquez 11/23/1966 - 5/22/2011

It never occurred to me that I would one day have to write an obituary. Then, on the morning of May 25th, the clock coming close to 6am, my ears heard the worse words come through the cellular connection of my mobile phone. My best friend; confidante, my shinning star amongst all wrong and wild things on this earth, was gone.

Mike Bohorquez was born in Newfoundland, Canada, on November 23^rd, 1966. He studied at private schools and universities across the Americas and toured with the Grateful Dead, until climbing came to play a rampart part in turning him into the outgoing and amazing person he never failed to be. His body was found in a hotel room in Bogota, Columbia, on May 22th 2011.

Mike lived his life at the utmost pase. He drove his Harley, or 56 panhead hardtail, as he repeatedly corrected me, all over the Colorado highways. When asked about where he lived, he always replied, ‘’from here, for now. ‘’ His mailing address was stamped on his Metolius haul bags, which

he used to travel, and to climb the walls of El Cap, to which, if he had a home, it would be. He spoke of his life as if it had no beginning and no end. He spoke with purity and laughter and spent his days trying his best.

What I remember the most about Mike was his girly screams falling from the anchors of his current projects and his headphones gushing out loud metal music camouflaged in his blonde dreads, which he would never cut. We would sit on the main street in the village of Cienega, waiting for the sun to hit us every morning, he with his coffee, imported and the most expensive money could buy. He took great pleasure in brewing his cups in the morning, and if anyone had a routine, that was his.

No amount of free gear was good enough for Mike, and in the past few years he had convinced Evolv, Bluewater and Metolius to put him on their grassroots team. This, above all else, gave Mike a motivation and drive to excel at his sport.

He spent his life living, and, for the most part, making sure we all remembered to do so as well. He was always looking out for his friends. He was always there. Mike always reminded me, that if I ever needed anyone taken out, hacked to pieces and made to disappear, he would do it. Mike loved his weapons, and was always close to his knives. He spoke about his guns as Shakespeare would about love. Never a day would go buy should we not hear something about him shooting off rounds in the dessert of Colorado.

We parted ways a few days into March of 2011, he went south and I, north. Plans to go to china in Oct. We both went our way, towards what we gravitate too. Mike had plans to travel for an undetermined amount of time. Our next meeting will now have to wait, just a little bit longer.

Here I am now, sitting on the floor of my apt, writing this for you. I have lost many friends over the past few years, but you are the one who will be sorely missed. I hope you Watch over me, us, with great wide eyes. May we make you proud. Maybe you take my dog for walks, where you both are, and may you never forget, that we will never stop remembering you, in our daily chores, activities and lives. You surround us, and bring us the strength and knowledge to forge on ahead, even though sometimes, we no not where we go.

In loving memeory of Mike Bohorquez