#the river & railroad & highway and the dam so its all these different histories and routes and ways of interacting w the land all in one

[coldcanyon]

been "collecting" photos of good grates/plaques/etc around the city to do rubbings of, some of them "straight" and some of them maybe collaged or interspersed to create ransom-note style texts . . . presented alongside photographs . .. ! Oh i just have so many ideas for all these little projects but I think I need to wait it out until they all become entangled in each other because they all have to do with water and public space and interface between built environment and "natural" environment . . .. so I think they can all come together into a more ambitious interdisciplinary research-based project/show/thinggg

[tastethegrace]

The (2015) Road Trip, Part 4.

I was just reading through some of my past entries, and I realized that I never finished this series.  So here I am, 5 years later, finally finishing it.  My memory of this trip has faded, but I feel like I need to say what I can here.

So I stayed with Nathan, a friend of mine from an internship in Bend, OR in 2011 (where I happened to meet my ex-wife, btw).  He was very kind, and took me out for breakfast the next morning.  I remember noticing the differences in conversation and style of talking as I watched the people in Starbucks.  Everything seemed strangely shallow.  Looking back on this is funny, as it makes me miss when we could hang out in coffee shops without masks.

At any rate, I left that afternoon to begin my journey home on Route 66.  I was really excited about this part of the trip.  I’d always wanted to experience the West on a road meant for driving instead of an interstate highway.  I went to Santa Monica Pier, where the route actually ends.  Chicago to LA.  But in reverse.

I drove through much of California that day, even taking a detour into the mountains to catch sunset at Yosemite.  It was absolutely thrilling.  I think I paused here for a couple of days to take a detour, because I remember driving through Las Vegas and crossing the Hoover Dam, and the next day, I saw Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park, the latter of which was absolutely gorgeous.  I think at this point, I circled back around to continue the trek on Route 66.

This was a long, multi-day trek, so I’ll just talk about some highlights.  I remember sleeping in my car a couple of nights early on, but the desert gets extremely cold at night, so that didn’t last.  I remember how funny/sad it was that Route 66 doesn’t fully exist anymore.  Many towns have preserved the stretches of the old road that passed through their town as a historical monument, but on the stretches that led into wilderness, I often had to follow the interstate, taking as many exits as I could to experience what was left.  There were a lot of stretches the ended in dead ends, but every single detour was worth it. 

I followed an older stretch of Route 66 into the mountains in Arizona.  This one was so narrow as it wound up the mountainside that I was actually nervous about driving off the side.  Eventually, I came to Oatman, which is an odd little tourist trap that basically still survives because of this road.  It had the vibe of an old west town, but that was also probably the case because of the WILD DONKEYS WANDERING THE STREETS.  One of them literally came up to my window and grinned at me, showing his teeth and expecting some food.

I continued on through Arizona, detouring again to see the Grand Canyon, because how could I not?  It was obviously stunning, and I wish I’d had time to actually go down to the river below.  I remember the general store nearby, where so many Native Americans sold their wares.  The dream catchers were each so unique.  I remember wishing Jesse had been with me that day.

On my way back to the main road, I stopped through Petrified Forest National Park and the Painted Desert at sunset.  I was in awe.  In addition to the glorious colors on the rock that reflected the colors in the sky, I saw elements of man’s intrusion into this place: early 20th century telephone poles, now void of their wired connections that brought so many together who were miles apart, and an old, half-buried Studebaker, with a site memorializing the old Route 66, which used to run directly through the Painted Desert.

From there, I traveled on to New Mexico, where I stopped briefly in both Santa Fe and Albuquerque.  Santa Fe’s architecture was so fascinating, given its history, and the arts district in Albuquerque was lively and colorful.  I stopped by a Route 66 museum and diner, just to experience the tourist-y goodness.  As I drove through Amarillo and Northern Texas, I came upon an old “ribbon road,” the only surviving section of the original Route 66 from the 1920s.  It was only a mile or so, but it was ROUGH driving on the old concrete.   There were these iron rails on both sides, almost like railroad ties, and the road wasn’t wide enough to be a two way street.

After this, I traveled up to Oklahoma, where I stayed for a few days over Thanksgiving because I got caught in the middle of an ice storm.  So that was fun.

Traveling around Kansas City (in both states), I wound my way up to Illinois, where I stopped in Springfield to see Lincoln’s birthplace.  And then, I finally made it to Chicago, the city that still has my heart, before turning for home.

This trip changed me profoundly.  Being alone on the road that long, even if only for a few weeks, gives one some time to think, to sing, to pray, to wonder, to cry...all things I allowed myself to do liberally.  Ultimately, it was healing, although I wouldn’t understand just how much until long after I returned.  

Pete was the one who encouraged me to go on this trip.  I’m forever grateful to him.