Maybe it is because I grew up far enough west of Chicago to consider riding a train to the city, especially to see the Christmas tree at Marshall Field's, a real treat. Or maybe it was the family trip each fall downstate to see the colors and brunch across the river from the Blackhawk statue. Or even maybe it was the many trips across corn fields to Des Moines where the bulk of our family resided and Mom and Dad called home. Perhaps it was just growing up when the automobile and the highways came of age. Yet then I went to Idaho for a job where our staff 'song' was On The Road Again; where each year I put thousands of miles on my current car and where four-lane was non-existent. So maybe it's just me.But I love the byways. And the first day of our trip to Death Valley from Lewiston, Idaho only reminded me how much I have come to appreciate the varied terrain of my adopted state.
Not that the trip started in ideal conditions. Towing our trailer for the first time and leaving in winter overcast, we had the good fortune to have the snow hold off until the end of the first day - literally as we pulled into the motel parking lot.
And that small blessing meant three hundred miles of watching forest and mountain, streams, tumbling rivers and steep canyons, high desert hills and sage rush past my window.
And the small towns resurrected a gush of memories. See that small town? I once worked with it's legislative candidate on his campaign. See that small town? We mediated on the next contract for almost twenty-hours one night. And that one? A disciplinary hearing kept me in town for two days. Ah, and that one? We came with in an hour of a strike and I can tell you the motel owner's life history.
Travel gives us landscapes; physical, social and historical.
If only we watch...using more than just our eyes.
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