epiphany

Into the West

I left home and headed West again this past Sunday.

The drive itself was uneventful. I decided that I needed some quiet time, so I didn't turn on the radio for the entire trip. Thirty hours of silence. Well, almost. I did turn on the radio two times (both in Washington state) to check on some traffic warnings. Other than that combined four minutes of WSDOT radio, all I listened to was myself and the noise of the road. And the road can be very noisy at times.

On the first day of my trip, I traveled through Wisconsin and Minnesota, finally stopping for the night at Bismark, North Dakota. From the few times I've heard people mention North Dakota, it seems to have a bad reputation as being excessively flat. But in reality, at least from I-94, the land across the eastern side of the state consistently undulates in low, sweeping hills decked with fields of corn and grain. Toward the middle, it becomes pronouncedly hilly, especially when approaching the Missouri River. And the western end is full of the Badlands. The painted canyon is particularly beautiful.

I had great memories of Montana, so the eastern end of the state disappointed me. It was largely a continuation of the dry and barren Badlands which, while intriguing, do get old after several hours. Things start to become more visually enjoyable around Billings, and the driving livens up as you head into the mountains. Interestingly, it was in the patchy rain of the mountains that I got the best gas mileage of the trip: 33+mpg.

I spent my second night about fifty miles northwest of Missoula in a small motel in the town of Superior, Montana, arriving just as a thunderstorm offered its first cracks of lightning. The Hilltop Hotel doesn't have phones in the rooms, but it is clean and more than adequate for a mom and pop type of place. And Rosie, of Rosie's Cafe, which provides a 10% discount to roommers at the hotel, makes a great batch of biscuits and gravy.

I spent most of the drive through eastern Washington wondering why it looks familiar yet foreign. I think that the overall shape of the landscape is similar to southern Wisconsin, but everything looks bigger or broader, probably because the high desert lacks the forests and colors of home. Still, it makes for pleasant driving, zooming up and down hills with the gold of a dried-up landscape surrounding you. The Cascades were also fun as I approached Seattle itself.

I had been rather afraid of this trip. The last time I came to Seattle, it was a great adventure, and I was flying blind. This time felt much more like growing up. I came with greater awareness, yet I felt much less prepared. However, when I crossed Lake Washington on I-90 and saw the hillside dotted with homes and skyscrapers jutting upward in the distance, the reality of where I was going became more real. When I turned onto I-5 into the heart of the city, I became truly excited and kept shouting, "I'm back! I'm back!" I almost wanted to cry with happiness.

I'm staying with my former roommate and his wife, who are terrific fun and are a joy to see married. When my old landlord came down to see me last evening, he said, "Welcome home."

I told him he was right. This is home.

As for interesting sights during the trip, in Wisconsin I saw an eagle and two deer. In North Dakota I enjoyed the beauty of coral-colored fields and blue and golden clouds pierced by a rainbow at sunset. As a lover of hay bales, I was excited to note vast herds of them grazing all the way across the state and well into Montana. They must not be native to the mountains, but they once again dotted the hills of eastern Washington. In Montana I saw a small herd of pronged horn antelope feeding near the highway. I also saw a thin, very dark black man sitting in nothing but his briefs at the doorway of his hotel room.

But the grandest sight, even better than turning onto I-5, came as my car climbed out of the western side of the Columbia River Gorge in central Washington. The landscape had been dry and relatively monotonous for hours. I couldn't see beyond the gorge wall, so I was expecting more of the same, knowing that the Cascades were still quite a distance away. As I crested the steep hill, I gasped audibly. There, towering white and mystical over the golden plain and brown hills beyond, stood Mt. Rainier, as imposing as if one of the ancient gods of Valimar had revealed himself. Words and pictures cannot describe the awed shock of that moment.

I slept more deeply last night than I have for many weeks. "Lay down your sweet and weary head . . ." While I know that trouble and struggle is bound to come as I search for work and find a place for myself in this crazy, comfortable town, I am happy to be here and fully content in the moment.

Sometimes dreams do come true.

Posted by at August 4, 2004 5:59 PM