"Home is behind, the world ahead." -J.R.R. Tolkien.
Snoqualmie Pass is, for my money, the gateway to my home, the edge of my beautiful and familiar bubble. It's the first of many mountain passes to be climbed on every cross-country journey, and it puts me on the edge of my seat. Every time I head over the pass and out to the world beyond, I feel exactly like Frodo leaving the Shire.
When I lived in the Midwest, starting out on a road trip was a quick and easy affair. Caught up in a web of major interstates and thru ways, I could quickly point myself in any one of several interesting directions, and simply put the pedal to the metal. Within an hour or two, I was crossing state lines and zipping past major cities. Marking my progress was swift and satisfying.
Now I live in the upper left hand corner of the United States. Tucked up here in the remote Pacific Northwest, buffered by the wild, mostly empty lands of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada and Oregon, the beginning of a road trip takes on a completely different dimension. Isolated as we are in our PNW bubble, my road trips now begin with the painstaking process of breaking out of our territory and trekking enormous distances on relatively empty highways across huge, sprawling states before connecting with the world beyond.
This long, lonely process is both sunshine and shadow. It takes patience and tenacity to rack up the miles between major western cities. It's 300 miles due east to Spokane and another 200 to Missoula, or if you'd like to travel southeast, 500 miles to Boise and another 250 to Pocatello.
And none of those cities enjoy much fame as locations of unique culture or character. Unless you're a local PNWer, you've probably never even heard of them, let alone chosen to visit. They are simply hardscrabble midsize towns along the road that can be counted on for clean bathrooms, a hotel that allows pets, and hopefully a Starbucks.
Up over the first of many mountain passes and down the the other side into the arid moonscape of eastern Washington, I find the Columbia River waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. Every time I cross her, I remember learning about the Columbia River in third grade and trying with all my imagination to conjure up a vision of this wild and faraway Western river. Now she looks like home.
But I would not trade this drawn-out process of driving away for anything, In these first long days at the beginning of our road trips, the rumbling tires beneath me and the glorious scenery all around me sing sweetly. I am entirely surrounded with the truth that I live in a beautiful and very special, tucked-away corner of the world. And my heart fills with mounting excitement as I realize that, just for now, I am leaving.
* * * * *
Road Trip 2019: read all about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please comment...I'd love to hear from you!