Moving Trip

To say I am relieved I have finally finsihed my move and that the long drive from New Orleans to Portland is over is an understatement of epic portions. I would do a cartwheel to celebrate ending the drive...if I weren't so tired and could remember how to do one of those. never mind..why destroy myself cart wheeling after surviving a brutal five day, 10 hour a day drive. I am very happy and grateful that I had no accidents, auto break downs and the use of my GPS which guided me easily and without any worry or fault along my route.

I saw bleak landscapes, stepped out in oppressive heat when getting gas for the car, eating a quick snack or peeing (be grateful I didn't use the more graphic words for my urination and bowel movements), and observed life in the middle of America from my seat in my automobile along the various U.S. highways and Inter states. Because I did little more than drive my car, no time for sightseeing permitted, I have no exciting tales to tell. But I do have observations of my trip and you will get them today. Uh....you are allowed no "pee" breaks while reading my review of the journey, despite the epic length of this.

Some of my observations follow.- The first day I drove about 525 kl from New Orleans to a suburb past Dallas called 'Denton'. Memories of that day include the "Cracklins and Boudin here" signs on small groceries in 'Krotch Springs', Louisiana. It's a tiny town on the periphery of Cajun country, and it reminded me of all the great Cajun/Creole food I am leaving behind in moving to the mediocre food region of Oregon in which I now reside. I enjoyed this first leg because I saw what I already knew, Louisiana.

The swamp lands, cyprus trees draped with Spanish Moss and small farms of Southern Louisiana were of special interest as a verification of what I have known all my life. Then the charming rolling hills and farms of heavily pine forested Northern Louisiana were a pleasant contrast that kept me awake (and still peeing) while driving. As I crossed into the state of texas, sate police cars seemed to appear and to apprehend the speeders. I speeded only accidentally because I wanted to treat my car like my baby, so it wouldn't break down and cry and strand me. It never did.

My drive into East Texas showed me vast farmlands, some cattle ranching, the rose growing center of Tyler, Texas and the outskirts of huge but impersonal Dallas.I left for Portland on a Sunday because the roads are far less traveled. Zipping though Dallas on Sunday evening was fortuitous, but I find Dallas, sterile and uninteresting anyway. I steeped a little harder on the gas peddle to exit Dallas and end my first day in a northern suburban town of Denton. East Texas is famous for it's barbecued pork and beef, so I sampled the pork at a semi fast food spot near the motel I bedded in that night. Sad to say, the mediocre barbecue pork sandwich that I ate was probably the best food of a food poor journey. Outside of some places in America the food is not distinguished.

- My second day started at 4 am, as most of my days do in any case. But I lingered until about 8 am before refueling the car (I seemed to be in a constant state of anxiety about having enough gas, given that in some stretches of the trip there were no gas stations for as much as 40 miles. But I always found gas as needed.) and heading due north into the ranching lands of North Texas.

I saw Quarter horse and thoroughbred racing farms and breeding farms for those racers, big cattle ranches and dairy farming ranches as well. North Texas is a working man's/woman's region, and I am grateful they let a lazy man like me ride through and peer at the sights. When I reached the most northern big city in Texas, Fort Worth I was in the midst of a city that not only hosted some of the most notorious gunfighters of western legend, but also was where Clint Eastwood may have drawn his shooting iron in one of those bad Hollywood films. There were cowboy memorabilia for sale in and wound Fort Worth, showing that cowboys never die. They just merchandise their image to tourists.

Leaving Fort Worth brought me north into Oklahoma, a sort of mini Texas, but one with far worse highways. It seemed there was construction on-going all long the route that I took directly through the center of Oklahoma. Yet the way my car bounced and lumbered defied the notion that any progress was being made in leveling the highways there. The landscape of Oklahoma is mostly flat. This is good for cross country driving, for it makes for faster and smoother motoring.
In Stillwell, I stopped for gas and noticed the love the city had for the local university, Oklahoma State. There were OK State Cowboy mascots in a number of places, mostly painted on the sides of buildings. The pride in the University by Stillwaterians mirrored the great pride I noticed Oklahoman's have in their state. Well, given the somewhat dull lifestyle of that state, I suppose pride is a necessity to avoiding total boredom. One can't communicate with cows all day. Oh, and I also noticed on my three pit stops in Oklahoma that the people there are very nice. It ought to call itself 'The Not Pretty But Nice State'.

I left Oklahoma and ventured into the longest drive of all- the Kansas ordeal. I drove both north to south through Kansas, then turned left and drove an entire east/west segment. It is a horrendous drive because Kansas is a prairie land state- flat land surrounded by farms, few people, terrible climate (awful heat on my summer jaunt. You can have Kansas. I won't fight for that god forsaken place.

I stopped in Salina, Kansas for a sandwich (yes, to pee too) and a small break from the endless drive time. It was 108F (42.2222 C) at about 2 pm as I exited the car and was hit in the face with a heat blast from the famous prairie wind. In Kansas there is a constant wind on the prairie. When the temperature is 108F that wind turns into a furnace. A local woman said to me as she left the sandwich shop, "It's so hot. I can hardly stand it." To which I replied, " I can. I am leaving this place forever after the last bite of my meatball. My condolences to you for having to stay. At least Salina has taught me what hell is like. Hmmm I wonder if that is my future destination.

After I left Salina I started to doze off as I drove, fighting sleep but being unable to stop because I was in the middle of prairie land with many corn, wheat and other grain and foodstuff farms on both sides and towns absent. Pulling onto the side of the road is dangerous given the proximity of a stopped car to others which whiz by. I had to endure the fatigue and keep moving until there was civilization that would allow me to rest. In praise of Kansas I must say that Kansas and Nebraska are not only the breadbaskets of America. they also feed many in other parts of the world. The farms are amazing there.

I had about 40 kl to drive before I could stop at the next gas station or town and walk off sleeplessness. The prairie terrain is exceedingly monotonous. This lends to sleeplessness in many drivers, as I noticed on big 24 wheel trucker fighting as well. He swerved from side to side and when straight for an instant I bolted past him to leave in wonder whether he made it as I did. Having driven too many miles I found little Colby, Kansas to be a good spot to sleep for the night and found a motel for that.

After checking in I drove across the street for gas and asked some locals at the station, 'Where is the local style food found in Colby." They replied, "We don't have any," meaning fast food and chain restaurants of mediocre serving abounded. I found this true in all the places outside of Louisiana and Texas. There is both little ingenuity in food in middle America and very little of good taste there as well. It's why I had to eat fast food most of the way. Oh well, for a man, donuts are good and sufficient sustenance anytime.

- Day three of the drive went from Colby to Rock Springs, Wyoming. I still had 60 kl of Kansas prairie to get through before entering Colorado, and that included the only rain (a 10 minute shower) on my drive. I exhilarated but when I got to Colorado I began the endless mountain climbs and descents. I remember the highest portion of my trip was on the Colorado/Wyoming border. The elevation was over 9,200 meters. That eventually descended into Denver, or at least the fringe of Denver, as I drove around it and headed into Wyoming. I would have enjoyed seeing denver but had no time for tourism. I liked Colorado for it's beauty and the good quality of mountain road. But as I crossed into Wyoming, like turned to concern about the pathway.
Before me lay the Wyoming landscape, barren of vegetation and moon-like. To make it worse were the mountains to climb and descend, my car wheezing with each climb. In Wyoming I passed into the city of Laramie, famous for mining and the cowboy cattle rodeo. No wonder the university nickname is the Wyoming "Cowboys". I had lunch in a chain restaurant there (no local food nearby was available there either, I was told) and chatted with my very pretty waitress about Wyoming and how she wound up there. She told me she was a student at the university who left a tiny mining town called Colby and that "There is really not much to do in Wyoming". She told me she had always wanted to go to New Orleans to see the sights and that life for most was a bit dull for younger Wyoming residents. It made me realize that I was lucky to be born and live in an active big city like New Orleans.

Wyoming roads were the worst that I experienced on the drive. I saw more than the usual number of cars and trucks broken down along the isolated mountain roads and wondered how those people would ever get out of there. And I had visions of myself being stranded. Haha Unluckily for you, my car saved me and you still have to deal with me now.

One thing I remember was the 'Smallest Town in America' sign that announced an isolated "town" high in the Wyoming mountains composed of, yes, one resident. I saw the sign ( 'Population 1') the state put up announcing it but I did not see the town itself. Perhaps I turned my head and missed it. It represented the whole state as a microcosm for its small size. Wyoming has far more cattle and sheep than humans. It's quite ruggedly pretty with its rock canyons and reddish buttes, but why would anyone want to live there if he or she had a choice in the matter? The answer is we live where we are born most of the time. Leaving is not always a practical avenue.

I ended my day in Rock Springs, Wyoming, population about 8000. But finding accommodations was not as easy as one would imagine in such an unglamorous place. In the nearby tourist city of Green River there was what one motel desk clerk told me "was a big Leanne Rymes concert" that explained the crowded motel condition there that night. I used to like Leanne but she bumped me from the motel that I wanted. But alas! I was given at a big price discount, a "pet suite" (an bigger, better room that is sold to travelers with pets) at a very nice motel. Maybe Leanne isn't bad after all.-Day four began with breathtakingly pretty scenery as I speed away from Rock Springs and into the state of Utah. That route was mountainous with the Wasatch Mountains and Echo Canyon being beautiful sights amidst the dreary dry landscape of Utah and Idaho. While driving around Salt Lake City I saw the famed 'Great Salt Lake, a body of water so filled with natural salt that little life can survive in the huge lake. It is impossible to drown in the Great Salt Lake, as the huge volume of salt in the water makes every thing float on top.

I remember seeing the town of "Little America" in Idaho. It was so small that I think fewer than 50 people lived in it. There were American flags on the signs announcing the town, but I have no idea why that tiny place in the Idaho mountains is called "Little America". Idaho is mostly dry desert land and bald mountains (no greenery on them) mixed with lower land formations that are suitable for farming. The famed Idaho potatoes were growing everywhere in the low farming areas.

Boise is the "big city" in Idaho, with a population of about 200,000. It's become a high tech center in recent years but is so isolated the land around it for many miles seems dead. I drove through Boise as quickly a possible opting to stop for the day further from it in Western Oregon. Idaho is not place one would choose to live. It is too dry, too mountainous, and offers only mining and agricultural work in most of the state. Uh, I suggest that idaho is a little "culturally deprived". I wanted away from it because the driving is treacherous in some of the Idaho bad grade mountain roads.

Very soon after going out of Idaho into Oregon the look of the land turned lush. The mountains in Oregon are wet, lush with trees, and the roads in Oregon are among the best and safest of all. This is in contrast to the dry mountains of Wyoming and Idaho. On first entering Oregon the land is a fertile farming and cattle region with the population being small. I drove on to Baker City, an isolated old mining town in Southeast Oregon and spent the night there because of its location and the lateness of the evening. Baker is nestled among many ghost towns (formerly thriving cities that are now empty because the mining activities there are closed). Baker City is famed as tourist site because it was in the path of the Oregon Wagon trains of the 19th century. One can see wagon wheel ruts that carved impressions into the land as the settlers struggled to reach the Pacific Ocean farther to the west.

- My final days drive was shorter, about 5 1/2 hours to my home in Portland. In the beginning as I exited Baker City I passed through some of the most beautiful mountain range sights that I have ever seen, 'The Blue Mountains'. Those mountains are densely wooded in fir and spruce trees making it appear to be a Christmas huge tree farm. Two young fawn dear came out of the forest high in the mountains to stare at me as I drove through. No doubt I am a more odd creature than they. The climb up and own was very steep, and I could see evidence of recreational climbing in the Blue Mountains in the many campers that passed and by the signs indicating recreational places in the Blue Mountains.

After exiting the Blue Mountains I came upon land that was rolling range land and the famed Columbia River. For almost 100 miles I drove parallel to the Columbia River and could see the state of Washington on the opposite bank of the river. The section of the Columbia about 70 miles from Portland has a series of dams one of which has locks that allow the millions of huge salmon to move upstream and breed. The Cascade locks have a viewing window in which the public can see the tiny avenue across the dam in which every salmon must negotiate to exit. I saw that on a previous trip here. This was evidence I was almost home.

It was a relief to see the beauty of Oregon in contrast to the more bleak sites of the other states in which I traveled from New Orleans. Viewing the environment of Oregon in contrast to all the others showed it was clearly the prettiest and most desirable state of all. I think I made a good choice in my relocation. Now that the drive has been made, and I am home we shall see if I was correct.