July 31, 2010

Happy Re-Birthday to Me. Today is my birthday, and I'm celebrating with a big, fat chocolate cake my mother is concocting. Ice cream optional. Today I am 55, and I'm consciously, deliberately re-birthing myself according to my own soul's divine plan. I feel deeply connected to my world and fine in tune with my divine guidance.

I'm so happy to be home for awhile, staying with my Mom, and receiving her tender care. We've had wonderful talks and enjoyed our usual goofiness together, lots of laughs, and constant amusement over our sweet little dogs. I've enjoyed the company of my sisters and look forward to lots more time with all my beloveds.

My first visit with my dear old dad: he was sleepy and struggling to awaken enough to pull in the reality of who I was. I could actually see the light of recognition. He slowly brought my scratchy hand to his lips and covered it with about 30 delicate little kisses. I will forever be both charmed and haunted by this memory. My fine, great, gentleman of a father...

I spent a few hours yesterday in the companionship of my dear friend Holly, as we walked the enchanted acres of her family's ranch, during the glowing sunset hour. Jubilee ran free and amok in the tall grasses, interrupting the ranch cows' munching process.

There is nothing more soothing to my soul than a Corvallis summer evening. The rich, warm colors of the wheat and grasses, the sky darkening to blueberry blue, the sun-rimmed clouds sputtering out the last light of the evening, the germinated breeze and the birds whirling for last-minute bug-snacks...oh what pure magic and delight!

Though I'm home for awhile, I intend to keep up with my posts, so I hope you all will continue to follow as I recount the ordinary pleasures of an ordinary life with extraordinary gratitude. I'll be reassessing and replanning the next phase of my journey.

July 27, 2010

I left "camp" at 4:30am for two reasons: 1) maximize the coolest driving hours; 2) any hours driven prior to 9:00am just don't count. So I logged about 5 hours of driving that slipped in under my "driving-is-a-drag" radar. Those 5 hours were some of the most splendid and beautiful hours, filled with serenity and wonder--a complete, utterly surprising gift!

The landscape changed very quickly from the forlorn and scruffy desert of yesterday's travels to a majestic, timeless expanse of subtly-hued hills, glowing in the rising sun, expelling stored vapors from yesterday's heat. The air carried the scent of time, itself. Time, and earth, and organics. From the earth, I sensed a kind of intelligence, a barter system, an aged agreement with all living beings, a sort of stoic graciousness, and an accommodation. It was truly mesmerizing. And I was the only person on the road for most of that time, intensifying the notion that the earth was a good sport to grant me passage.

The scenery was of two distinct landscapes, split down the middle by the highway. The grey hills looming off the golden valley floor were buckled, folded, and tucked, presenting what appeared to be an impassable border. Though unmoving, they were not inert, like rocks. They were more like slumbering elephants.

As I crept along the outstretched miles, the colors of the land changed with the sun's ascent in the sky, as if watercolor pots were spilled out, staining everything below. I kept the windows open and the radio off. I wanted to breathe in the vapors, inhale the earthy musk, fill my head with the vast silence...

In no "time" at all, I found myself looking down from steep canyon walls to the Columbia River below. I was so in another world that it never occurred to me where I was, on the map. The river was a complete and utter surprise, unrecognizable, and surreal. In moments, the realization that I was approaching the Oregon border spread through me, and I was seized with what I can only describe as delirious delight! Home, Home, here I come!

I stopped to play in the Columbia, which was cold and clear and precious. Life-giver, life-sustainer. The Columbia! The drive into Portland was easy and beautiful, under typical Oregon summer skies--blue, more blue, then some white puffy clouds scuttling by.

I spent the day and the night with my dear friend Stefani and her family, laughing, sharing stories, pizza, and good wine. In the morning, more of the same, swapping out pizza and wine for muffins and coffee. Stefani and her family have provided me haven and support many times during the most "distrauted" moments these past couple years as major parts of my personal life blew to pieces. I am eternally grateful  for the comfort and love of this family and for the endless list of things we can find to laugh about.

July 26, 2010

Today I feel like I went from paradise to hell, landscape-wise. I started out in a beautiful, lush canyon in Wallace, ID. Jubilee and I hiked a rugged 4-mile trail to the entrance of an old mine, which was used as a life-saving haven to a group of trapped firefighters back in 1910, when forest fires were spreading all across the West. The trail followed a shimmering, crystal-clear creek, and we took many breaks to splash about. On the way back, I found a wonderful pool, about 3 feet deep. Since it is so close to my birthday, I splashed in, wearing a commemorative garment--birthday suit. It was divinely cold and left me hootin' and gaspin'.

It was so lovely back in that canyon. As we were the only ones around, I could hear the sounds of the woods without interruption. I was enchanted with the appearance of four kinds of butterflies, which I was able to identify as Monarchs, yellow ones, blue ones, and white ones. We picnicked at the end of the trail, under a shady canopy of conifers, just across from the mine entrance, which was inaccessible. (I wouldn't have tried, anyway.)

Then back on the road again. I chose a route through Washington because it seemed to promise the shortest way home. I regret the choice, though. The landscape is abysmal. So parched, barren, wasted and forlorn, it makes me want to cry, which I would gladly do if I hadn't sweat out all my body's liquid. Driving through this God-forsaken land is about as pleasurable as having a dry bowel movement, and is taking about as long. The barren land stretches out as far as my crusty eyes can see, the sky overhead is the color of old concrete, the telephone wires are like cracks in the sky. It's about 100 degrees. This landscape actually taps into my fear at the survival level. I was plagued by morbid accidental fantasies about breaking down out there.

I did make it to an RV camp, which offered a few shady trees, elec. and water hookups, and a friendly owner who loaned me his table BBQ'er so I could finally grill the chicken I've had marinating for 3 days. I plan to rise very early tomorrow to log some miles before the day heats up!

July 25, 2010

Blog time. Not much to report today--it was a sweet, easy day! I left Butte at 11ish, and drove "uptown" to wander through all the interesting architecture. Butte was quite affluent during the late 1800's, with all the mineral mines and commerce. The architecture of the period illustrates how lavishly folks lived on the hill, overlooking a severe valley landscape.

I drove the 60 miles to Missoula, stopping a couple times to take in the sights of the beautiful Clark Fork River, which was named after William Clark. He and Meriweather Lewis decided to split up for a portion of their homeward-bound journey after having spent the winter in Fort Clatsop, Astoria. Clark Fork is a beautifully clear, clean, and sparkling river. We found a lovely spot to plunk in and swim. Jubie is beginning to act more like an otter than a dog!

I'm splurging and spending tonight in a motel room with a TV, so I can watch the season premier of Mad Men. Tomorrow I'll finish my journey through the beautiful and majestic Montana and cross the border to Idaho! The map shows my route as "National Scenic Route" almost all the way!!!! Yippee!!!

I am LOVING this journey, and amuse myself while driving by daydreaming about how and where I'll continue after spending some time at home for the rest of the summer.

July 24, 2010

Montana is a HUGE stage! While traveling along in a surreal time warp, I happened upon Lewis & Clark Historic State Park, which includes the incredible limestone caverns (which they never saw, but are named in their honor).  It was just a lucky break for me, because I did not eve know of the caverns' existence. It was a 4-mile hike, altogether. But only 2 miles were actually INSIDE the caverns. And what a mysterious, spooky, and exhilarating trek! I really pushed the edge of my own claustrophobia. Many of the passages were quite narrow and required stooping over while descending into slippery, wet, unknown regions, home to numerous bats, which swirled around and squeaked intermittently. One area actually had a naturally created polished limestone "slide", down into a darkness I cannot hardly breathe through. This was a guided tour, and the guide was very good at telling us what to expect as we made our decent. But still...

It was a magnificent experience, and a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me. Never again! But I'm so glad I did it. Here and there the caverns were lit for safety at the most treacherous places. There were narrow, steep stairways carved out of stone back in the 30's, and overhangs that were sometimes only 4' high for long stretches. I never felt like I would become stuck because the tour guide was bigger around, so I just tried to follow closely behind him and his precious little flashlight! At one point, we all gathered in the "Cathedral Room" where we were treated to a magnificent display of every kind of formation and bizarre color, plus a pure, crystal pond! We were also treated to an accidental (and thankfully, brief) loss of electricity that coincided with his flashlight loosing its charge. Oh boy! I felt my panic rise and I could barely control my urge to emit staccato screams, in search of something safe to hang onto. I involuntarily clutched like a bat onto the arm of the man standing next to me. Momentarily the dim lighting returned and I quickly saw that I was joined by several other bat people, clinging and cowering. The tour guide apologized but I could tell this was not a singular occurrence. Despite all the chills and fears that kept me outfitted in gooseflesh, I am so glad I made the journey. I've never seen anything like it!

Afterward, reaching the dry, warm air, I felt delivered and proud of myself for facing my fears and hanging in there. I drove through the gorgeous canyon that houses the caverns until I found a hiking trailhead, just right for Jubilee and I. The sign promised a beaver pond in 2.5 miles. So we trekked forward. I only noticed the time when I was about 15 minutes in: 5:15pm. OOOPS. That pretty much allowed about 2.5 hours for a 5-mile hike before dusk, and scary animals. It seemed a relatively "flat" trail, so I figured it would be a cakewalk.

Of course, it wasn't, and a big slice of chocolate cake at the end would have been terrific! It got quite hilly, but never treacherous, and we just kept our pace, hoping to find the beaver ponds. I got as far as any sense would allow, but stopped when we reached a bridge over a creek that surely must spill into a pond somewhere. But we never found a pond. Jubilee didn't care. She was happy to just splash in the creek to fetch the sticks I robotically tossed for her. After she cooled down we headed back, and I kept vigil for all trail markers, not wanting a repeat of my scary experience a few weeks ago in another state park. For some reason, I felt tireless. I even ran some of the segments to make better time. I fixed Jubilee's reel to my belt and she was ahead of me the entire way!

We reached the trailhead at 7:30, like clockwork, just as the sun was going down. A cool breeze and a gallon of cold water welcomed us home to the Motherload. We drove about 30 miles to Butte, MT, and found a great little spot to camp next to a fine and friendly family. All is well. Jubilee has passed out on my stretched-out map, and she looks positively taxidermied. I'll wait until tomorrow to study the map.

July 23, 2010

I've come 350 miles across Montana today, which was not in my plan. I rose early this morning and Jubilee was still so sleepy, I figured we'd log some miles before Montana woke up. It has been a beautiful drive through prairies and along the Yellowstone River. During my last stop for playtime, I met a very sweet teenage boy who had been swimming upstream from us. He floated down and visited with me for almost an hour. When three bikini-clad gals came by with their inner tubes, I was bemused how quickly he abandoned our conversation for an opportunity to flaunt his manhood by running barefoot across the river stones, tossing and skipping rocks, and cannon-balling into the deepest part of the river. He carried out all these activities as if he hadn't noticed the young beauties who were splashing, shrieking, and squealing in their tubes, flaunting their femininity, and equally absorbed in the game of pretending they did not notice a young buck nearby. It was the best entertainment of the day!

I had a BIZARRE experience early this morning, but it was not entertaining. As I drove head-first into a lightning storm, I was exhilarated to watch the glowing streaks across the purple sky. Perfect zig-zag formation! However, in an instant a horrendous explosion occurred right next to me, like a cannon going off, and suddenly splinters of wood rained down on the Motherload. At first I thought someone had shot a flock of birds! then I instantly realized that the lightning had struck the powerpole on the shoulder of the highway! EEEEGADS!!!!!! What a vivid illustration of the tremendous power of lightning, and what a close call! All my hair follicles stood at attention and I shivered for about 3 minutes.

I've pulled over for the night just outside Billings, having lucked into a campsite without a reservation on a Friday night! Montanans are big RV folks, and it proved to be a time-consuming task to find a vacancy.

July 22, 2010

I just lost every single word I wrote about today's journey. Of course it was some of my BEST writing! But maybe it's true that every picture tells a story of its own!

July 21, 2010

I have SO loved driving through North Dakota! I was not prepared for how gorgeous it is, and was half-way dreading the long drive. I couldn't stop gawking at the colorful, undulating landscapes on either side of the interstate. Fields of greens, golds, lavendars, amber, with sky dramas exploding then melting on one side of the highway to the other. The little towns along Interstate 94 are clean, upbeat and cared for. The folks are friendly. The weather is PERFECT! We're down to the high 70's by day and a chilly mid-50's at night. Oh how I'm relaxing into that.

I found a wonderful bike/walking trail today, just outside Bismark, ND. It meandered along a golf course for awhile, then took off through a meadow along a creek. We walked for about an hour and a half, then back on the road again. I wanted to make it to Medora (the little town at the entrance of Theodore Roosevelt National Park) before dark and I did! These "Badlands" of North Dakota are stupendously beautiful. The striated soil is charged with color and texture, and the rainy summer has certainly greened things up to a dazzling level. Not to mention the wildflowers!

We pulled into a perfect campground just on the outskirts of Medora, where Roosevelt had a cabin. I hope to visit it tomorrow and take pictures of the town. The Little Missouri River runs right along the campground, which is shaded by the ubiquitous cottonwood trees (thank God!), which I adore. They remind me of Corvallis, along the Willamette.

I DID enjoy a BBQ'd dinner tonight, though it was a difficult process due to the broken grill at my site and my marginal talent for grilling. Then I took myself on a date for live theater: A real Wild West, Frolic'n Cowboy, live musical, set in an amphitheater with the grand Badlands as the backdrop. The real scene stealers were the antlered elk grazing in the hills just behind the theater. The musical was cute, but a bit too corny, even for me. I left at intermission, having endured/enjoyed  the cast's marginal talent for music, overacting and dance long enough.

July 20, 2010

I want to update my blog with all the news for today, but I'm so pooped out, I just can't find any words that interest me. Though it was another big driving day, it was made very pleasant by the beautiful, serene landscapes, and our little stops for playtime. No day is really complete for Jubilee without a romp in a river or creek. So I found her one at a nice county park in Fargo, where two boys were jumping and diving off a quaint bridge while their friends (including me) cheered.

I met two wonderful families yesterday, both traveling with their kids through America. One family was young, with three young daughters. They are "full-timers", meaning that they live on the road in their RV, by choice. The other family is my age, and they created this ONE LAST EVENT with their grown children before they're all married and moved away. It made my heart happy.

So, even though I drove a lot, I stopped many times to take in the sights, so the pace of the day was relaxing. When I finally found a campground, I had plenty of energy for a bike ride around the lake. Since the weather was perfect, I spent the entire evening outside. I built a perfect Boy Scout campfire and ate a simple dinner of moldy tortillas, beans, letttuce and tomatoes. (As God is my witness, tomorrow I'll plan correctly and get my dinner groceries BEFORE I get to the campground!) I plucked away on my banjo, hoping I had settled into a spot far enough away from the 3 other campers. Nobody threw eggs at me, but if they had, I would have appreciated the addition to my sparse dinner! I read my book until it grew dark, then retreated to the safety and comfort of the Motherload as the sky began flashing with lightning. Soon, raindrops thick and heavy as pancake batter began splatting on the roof. I fell into bed with the kind of extreme coziness that curled my toes.

July 19, 2010

tired. happy. at peace. resolute. full. it was 72 today, and only 54 this morning, when I awoke, with Jubilee cuddled up next to me for the first time in about 6 weeks! Oh, sweet, precious, cool morning breeze! Another 250 mile day. But I stopped twice for some exercise, once along the lake, and again along a gorgeous wooded bike/walking path near Grand Rapids, MN. I've sung harmony to all the songs on all my CDs, mentally re-landscaped my yard and remodeled my house, performed calisthenics while driving, and named my future dogs, and I still have 2,000 miles to go! I better get a book on CD before I wear out my circuitry.

July 18, 2010

This morning, I opened my eyes and the windows and let the angst of yesterday float out and away into the clear, blue sky. In its place, peace claimed me. Or I claimed it. We made a good driving partners today, and I've invited it to stay!

I drove 250 miles today. I feel light of heart since making my decision to return home.  I realized when I awoke this morning that returning home does not necessarily mean terminating my journey. It might mean taking a break for awhile, then continuing on. Perhaps doing shorter segments at a time. Who knows? Here is ONE thing I know: There are actually some things that are OK not to know. 

I'm camped at a spot near Washburn, Wisconsin, on Lake Superior, about 60 miles or so from Minnesota. It is just beautiful here, and has been gorgeous all day, as I inhaled great gulps of fresh air through the open windows, reveling in the ecstatically green hardwood forests. I was told that Lake Superior is the only lake in the U.S. that creates it own weather. If so, I'd say it's doing a great job. It's about 75 and slightly breezy, with huge, pantaloon-style clouds billowing out in all directions. 

My camp neighbors were so kind as to make room for me at their campfire so I could roast my hot dogs and corn. I'd been savoring the idea of campfire weenies all day, but was so tired when I pulled into camp I didn't relish the idea of making a fire. The bakery buns I'd purchased earlier cushioned those dogs like downy pillows and made each chomp a mighty satisfying campaign against hunger.

Tomorrow I will rise early to enjoy a brisk walk along the lake before embarking again on an unknown road through an unfamiliar land. I can't wait to see what unfolds!

July 17, 2010

Uh-Oh. Something's astir. Last night, after I pulled into my campsite and began the laborious and useless ritual of investigating campsites for the following day(s) (online), I asked myself, "How would it be to just head home right now?" I immediately snapped my mind shut on that freak question and continued my useless pursuit.

The question nagged at me a lot, and I finally acquiesced, justifying the line of questioning by remembering that I can "try on" anything mentally, and let it go if it doesn't fit. Well, guess how well it fit? Just sitting with the notion left me with a surprisingly light and content heart. I slept on the idea as well, and it made a lovely pillow for my thoughts and dreams.

I have several compelling reasons for possibly returning home early: 1) discomforts, restrictions, inconveniences, and extra expense of traveling in the SUMMER, when we all know Corvallis is the BEST in the summer. 2)  increasing occurrences of grumbling fatigue and burnout. 3) expense. 4) my Dad's well-being. 5) difficulty painting. 6) malfunctions and breakdowns, minor but definitely added inconvenience.

My compelling reason for staying on the road: I DO NOT FEEL DONE! Not at all. There is still so much I want to see and experience.

I wonder if I returned home now, could I/would I start up again next year? Maybe do shorter segments? So much of this journey has been so glorious. How could I have let this freak question infest my brain, my heart, my sense of direction? And yet it has. I feel literally torn in two directions and I have never felt so lost.

I spent the day driving and crying, as I reminisced along the road of the wonders and joys and scrubby irritations I've experienced these past almost 4 months. To leave the road now seems like I'm "quitting." I overheard my inner critic call my inner empress a "big baby".  She's not, though. She (and one of my dear, dear friends) reminded me that there shall be no judgement here, whatever my decision. As at the onset of the journey, my heart leads the way and my body and mind have agreed to follow. Everyone shook on it.

The last good cry  for the day was at 3pm and left me with a bit of wisdom: Don't make the decision now, when I'm burned out and burning up. Drive north and find a place to cool my head and see what decision emerges. Could be something totally unexpected.

PS: I did go to Madison, WI, today, but being in such a miserable state, I didn't notice it. I could not find the place in me that holds impressions.  I'm sorry, Madison. You deserved better. I only took one photo: of ducks, like that was the one defining thing.