Traveling 3000 miles

Blogger disordered these pictures and maybe I will leave them that way. To travel across the breadth of the US is specifically disordered. Wandering behind the wheel toward the opposite coast is the sense of overwhelming distance and burden, especially in a car without cruise control (silly Germans who I bought it from). Despite the journey and thoughts of impending doom, I look back with a feeling of accomplishment. And wonder. And a fierce determination to see this through and open my mind to what may be or what may be gone. 

Things in life slip through our fingers before we know it sometimes. And sometimes when it feels like there is no hope, there actually is.

 Behind the wheel, Oregon

 Utah

 Oregon

 Oregon

 Oregon

 Utah

 Wyoming

 Wyoming

 Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

 Wyoming

 Wyoming

 Wyoming

 Nebraska

 Iowa

 Iowa

-20° Laramie, Wyoming Wanderings

Weather Forecast: Dangerous wind chills. Limit outdoor exposure.

Arriving last night after twelve hours in the car, I was thankful that I'd just reserved a hotel room for the night rather than spending time getting lost in an unfamiliar town. The road across Iowa and Nebraska blurred into a seeming infinity of snow-capped farmland and intermittent trees. An awful lot like North Dakota. I tried to repress the suicidal thoughts at the dull landscape with happiness of knowing what Nebraska and Iowa are like. As the sun went down, the open sky changed to a mesmerizing pastel canvas and I landed in Wyoming, the least populated state in the Union. I've been here twice before- to Jackson Hole and Cheyenne- so I opted to stay in Laramie at the Americinn, which was recommended on TripAdvisor.

The temperatures started dropping like a boulder off a cliff as I got further into the state. I watched my car gauges, and thought I hadn't been in this kind of weather since North Dakota. I pulled into the hotel and quickly was directed to my king size bed in a fancy room. I felt happy to not be hosteling it.

As I unloaded my car, I noticed a faraway car in the loading zone. "Are you from Alabama?" I asked the man in the fleece and jeans.

He affirmed, and so I asked where he was headed. "Oregon," he answered.

I fired off a ton of questions, excited to meet a person as crazy as me. And he did so in return, stating that I was going a long way to see what I thought of Oregon again. He was opening a sunglasses shop south of Portland, and came in with a free pair of Maui Jim's for me. We talked for several hours, discussing life philosophy, the importance of living freely and lightly and not allowing worry to cloud your judgments.

This man was born in Jamaica, and educated in England and ended up in South Carolina for school. He knew of the island culture and the east coast and the problem of chasing your dreams. He asked me if I planned to stay in my field. I said I didn't know. He said, "Find what you love and get paid for it."

So even in Laramie, Wyoming, you can find kismet. Take each day as it comes. Keep swimming. Keep trucking. Keep living.

Iowa

 Iowa

 Road warrior

 Iowa has the most renewable energy in the USA

 Nebraska

Omens from Dayton, Ohio

 

[The last night on Hatteras]

I'm not religious per say, but I believe in the universe and watching for small directional arrows.

In North Carolina:

1. I turned on Pandora radio right after leaving home and the first thing I heard was a commercial for a restaurant in Portland, Oregon. 
2. A little while down the road, I was passed by a car with North Dakota plates. I don't know if I've ever seen a North Dakota plated car in North Carolina. I waved furiously at the driver, hoping he saw my University of North Dakota sticker in the window. 
3. In the Chapel Hill- Raleigh- Durham area, I looked up and saw a "Quintiles" building. Remembering that my very good friend and former roommate Lourdes worked there before going to PT school, I sent her a note. 

Pulling into Dayton last night, I experienced kindness abounding. The woman at the Best Western sent me to the Comfort Inn for a cheaper rate (and lovely room). The sweet man at the Comfort Inn (Mr. Patel, of course) was holding the door and telling me I needed to just roll my bikes on the carpet and not pick them up as I pulled them into my room. He looked out at my car, and told me how nice it was. I said it got 45MPG. He said he drove a Camry and it got 28MPG. When I got done unloading the bikes, he told me to park next to his car under the big light, across from the 24-hour McDonald's drive up, where people would see my car all night and it would be safe.

I rolled into bed tired but naturally woke up a few times, and then very early this morning. Nausea rolled around inside me as I wondered again where I was and what I was doing sleeping in all my clothes under the covers of an unknown place. I figured may as well have breakfast since yesterday's entire meal plan included two apples and a snack size bag of popcorn. But first checked my little car, and everything was intact, albeit frost all over the bike rack.

I shared a breakfast of English muffin, scrambled eggs and green tea among several soft spoken Hispanic guys, one of whom noticed I couldn't find the garbage can and sent me over to it. The murmur of Spanish was a lullaby to my ears. An older black guy sat behind me eating. To have many cultures sitting together is a gift, even if only in the Comfort Inn of Dayton, Ohio.

It's the small things that matter in this life- acknowledging another's existence- their pain and fury- making eye contact- seeing each other- and caring.

There's nothing more ridiculous than making cross country moves in a Mini Cooper with two bikes strapped on the back. I will post a photo later. The only thing that would make it more insane is if I had a loaded roof rack. Well. Make due with what you have.

Onward and upward!

Before the storm

"Someone told me long ago
There's a calm before the storm,
I know
It's been comin' for some time."

The reprieve before the storm. Nights dark and cold, quiet in our living room. 70's folk drifting through the air. Every song tells a story I feel deep inside. I wonder why they don't make songs like this anymore. Real music. A person shouldn't listen to this when you're feeling lost. It's too easy to cry.

We've been padding around the house, cooking dinner. Taking walks on the nature trail, Bailey in tow. Usually we let him walk on his own dragging his leash along. He likes the freedom.

Yesterday we headed south on Highway 12 to Hatteras village, the town where he grew up. Parked in front of his grandpa's house, we unloaded our folding bikes. Two sweatshirts, hats, and mittens- still not enough to keep out the cold as we skittered along the small streets. Hatteras is a town of about five hundred, at the southern tip of Hatteras Island. We've paddled out there among the inlets. This day we wandered the back roads to the graveyard where his uncle was buried at age nineteen back in 1989. A car accident the summer after his high school graduation. Justin was fourteen.

These nights are surreal. Each morning waking to a new day, closer to what? I read websites on minimalism, small living, and how to make decisions. I decide that everything is for today only. Nothing is permanent. I will move in the direction that I go.

Friday Morning

"You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing and dance, and write poems and suffer and understand, for all that is life." -Jiddu Krishnamurti 

Sunshine sneaks through the bamboo shades, lighting our covers as he sleeps next to me. I wake up wondering where I am again. And what I am doing. Life in slow motion. Leaden heart, wet eyes. Trying to make sense of it all. 

I let the dog out. He prances in the sunshine while I heat water on the stove for morning tea. It's been more than a week since I gave up coffee. One less thing to do every day. My skin thanks me for it. The tautness has disappeared. Every year I tolerate less caffeine, and thought why not drop it. I'll still have it once in a while but not every day. I don't even miss it.

There's a scratch on the door and Bailey is back. Still in his red Christmas bow from Kathy, which is now a Valentine's bow. I measure out his breakfast. It's before 7AM.

It's over a year since we were first in contact. And just under a year since we first met. January 15th. I wonder what I would be doing here in one or two years. I can't see anything right now. The future is so smeary. 

Living life is about being here each day. Experiences. Loving. Suffering. I trod forward somewhere into the unknown.