Mother Carey's Kitchen: The Road is Life

Whenever I fly from the east to the west coast, there's the undeniable feeling of freedom and space when I arrive. I had pondered if I'd feel this same difference on the slower transition provided by a drive...or if at the slower pace the transition would be imperceptable. Maybe it was the chaos of Chicago traffic that meant by the end of that particular day anything would have been different.

That evening while leaving the tranquil cafes of downtown La Crosse I found my answer...

Immediately after crossing the Mississipi River, Highway 90 wends it's way up onto Minnesota. After a little over 1000 miles of driving, the sky suddenly felt that much higher, the air a little thinner, the green fields and trees a little greener, traffic quieter (and there were certainly no more of the incessant tolls), and the driving easier. I was happy...

...or as Kerouac would say:

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."

I drove on, the Air Conditioning crisp on my face, marvelling at the sheer abundance of corn lining the voluptuous contours and curves of Minnesota - occasionally dotted with a red barn or elongated aluminium silo. I passed the mighty Missouri river, but kept driving into a sky that just got bigger until I was finally stopped by tornado warnings and a storm that forced me into a motel for the night.

The next day Badlands came out of nowhere - this was now quintesentially the west as the flat of the prairie transitioned to relief of Badlands and the Black Hills of the Dakotas. The darkness at night brought out the stars and planets - Venus, Mars, and Saturn.

The first overlook

Warnings...

Lots of flowers this year

Wallace Stegner may best sum up the West:

“ There was never a country that in its good moments was more beautiful. Even in drought or dust storm or blizzard it is the reverse of monotonous, once you have submitted to it with all the senses. You don’t get out of the wind, but learn to lean and squint against it. You don’t escape sky and sun, but wear them in your eyeballs and on your back. You become acutely aware of yourself. The world is very large, the sky even larger, and you are very small. But also the world is flat, empty, nearly abstract, and in its flatness, you are a challenging upright thing, as sudden as an exclamation mark, as enigmatic as a question mark.”

Mount Rushmore next and the little town of Keystone. For those Alaskans, think of McKinley Village but increase the tourist heinosity by an order of magnitude...or two. The carved faces are undeniably impressive though, epitomizing the mantra "build it and they will come."

That night, Devil's Tower glowed in the evening light as I arrived and walked the trail around it, whisps of cloud above and a few dozen circling vultures. The crowds were not here - they were all in Keystone. I'd had the tower's image in my mind since I started climbing and saw a picture of Catherine Destiville stemming one of the dihedrals...or maybe it was close encounters...either way...an impressive spot.