winter, part II, in Louisville

I would like to write about the last few hours of our Louisville adventure.

Saturday night, I arrived back in Louisville following my Bourbon Trail adventure in the countryside. The air had grown progressively colder as the day wore on. Bourbon warehouses, stacked full of wooden barrels bursting with flammable liquid, employ no heat or electricity. Indeed, very little has changed over the last two hundred years in the way bourbon is made. As we shuffled through the distillery, our tour group buried our hands deep in our pockets and shrunk further into our hoods and coats. My toes were icy-cold by the time we finished the final tour! While I was gallivanting about rural Kentucky, Heather had been watching plays at the Humana Fest, so later in the evening I dashed back through downtown to pick her up. The streets were wet with what could have been rain, but as I navigated the one-way streets and multiple freeway cloverleafs, huge snowflakes began to fall, and literally within minutes snow was piled an inch high atop vehicles and yards. I got a little turned around in downtown Louisville, as snow pounded around me making it all the more difficult to discern the correct route. I remarked to Heather, only a bit tensely, "This is the sort of thing I will laugh about tomorrow."

When we awoke in the morning, that inch of snow still lingered around the neighborhood. The trim, brick house where we had been staying was picturesque. In the yard, a magnificent flowering tree bloomed the vibrant colors of spring, magenta, purple, fuschia. It was all the more stunning contrasted against the white carpet beneath and the crimson of the house.

We made a quick pancake breakfast for our hosts, bid hasty goodbyes, and hopped into my little car to make it back downtown for one final play that began at ten a.m. Sunday.

Called "The End," this play featured all of the apprentices in the company (many of whom Heather knew) in a series of quick vignettes detailing the end of the world. Set in Los Angeles, these generally lighthearted sketches poked fun at the disaster genre and actors themselves, and gave each apprentice an opportunity to shine. The sun, too, was shining by the time we emerged from the theater 90 minutes later. Heather and her friends exchanged many enthusiastic hugs, we retrieved the car from one of Louisville's many towering parking structures, and we were on the road.

Interstate 71 begins in downtown Louisville at the somewhat confusing Kennedy Interchange where I-64, I-65, and I-71 all wrap around each other. I really wanted to be able to take a route that would lead us through the bottom part of Indiana, just so we could say we went there on our trip too, but unfortunately the roads didn't go that way. So we were contented to simply follow I-71. It was a beautiful drive. The sun beamed down as we made our way toward Ohio in the hills of northern Kentucky.

Just across the Ohio border, we stopped for gas in Anderson Township, which is in the greater Cincinnati area. We hopped back on OH-32, which would take us east to Athens. I briefly considered finding alternate routes to take along our journey, based on standard adventure rules, but I realized that I had never taken I-71 heading north from Louisville-Cincinnati, or OH-32 east from Cincinnati-Athens, so my adventure spirit was held at bay.

As we drove through rural southern Ohio toward Athens, the hills welcomed us, increasing in number. We neared Athens and were able to pick up the Sunday afternoon bluegrass show on NPR, which is one of my favorite things ever and provided the perfect soundtrack for our return home.

This trip was wonderful for many reasons. It was interesting to spend three days in the same city, since in most of my adventures thus far I often find myself in a new place for only twelve hours or so at a time. I felt like I got to understand Louisville a bit, and it helped that I was able to meet some actual Louisvillians. Perhaps because of the timing of it in late March, I reminisced more than once about trips we would take in college band to NCAA tournament games. Traveling with a friend was a different experience; I don't remember the last time I went on a prolonged non-solo adventure. It was really nice to have somebody to share the adventure with (and to take more pictures!), and it forced me to loosen up a little bit. When in adventure-mode, I tend to very stubbornly pursue my specific ends.

Mostly, though, this sojourn to Louisville reminded me of how much I enjoy adventuring. This major Midwest city is a short four and a half hours from Athens, and I couldn't help but return to my mental list of other interesting locations that are only a hop, skip, and jump away from my home in southeast Ohio. I keep trying to stay in one place, but there is so much to see! The summer of adventures lives on...

Louisville, continued: In which I try to be more concise

When I left off in my last entry, your protagonists were just about to get to Louisville. I have a lot of catching up to do.

We reached Louisville a little before rush hour, and had just enough time to drop our things off at our friends' and change our clothes to get ready for the theater. I felt very strongly that we ought to dress up to go see this play. I mostly felt this way because I got a new dress last week and I love it a lot and want to wear it as frequently as possible, even if it isn't quite spring yet.

We zipped in to downtown Louisville and easily found parking in one of the many towering parking garages. Louisville's downtown is an easy-to-navigate grid that hugs the Ohio River to the north. Several grand bridges span the rushing waters, leading to Indiana.

The play we saw that first night was called "A Devil at Noon." It was sparsely attended, so we were able to move forward several rows, and enjoyed second-row seats. The Humana Fest is composed of new plays being performed for the first time. This play was set in 1981 Berkeley and focused on a science fiction writer who, through some weird sci-fi glitch, experiences his characters coming to life around him in very spotty ways. It was enjoyable, especially the concept that he didn't quite have control over his characters, something I think about a lot as an aspiring writer myself. Before the play, we caught dinner (following a friend's recommendation!) at a little indie cafe tucked in a fading gray-brick building called Hillbilly Tea. On our way from dinner to the theater we also began the bourbon-tasting element of this adventure. When in Louisville, eh?

Yesterday morning, as per adventure rules, Heather and I went on a jog around the beautiful neighborhood we're staying in. Middletown is actually to the west of Louisville, its own independent town but still part of the general sprawl of the city. This neighborhood is composed of red brick houses built in the colonial style. Flowering trees decorate the yards, in full bloom despite the tricks nature seems determined to play on us this spring.

The Louisville Slugger museum is in downtown Louisville, so we partook of that tour, learning all about the history of wooden bat-making. A lot of old and famous bats are on display at the museum, and after a factory tour everybody gets a fun-sized baseball bat to take home (but not on the airplane; apparently baseball bats of any size are not allowed! And now you know!). I have a lifelong love of baseball, and I always appreciate any chance to rekindle that interest. The museum was comprehensive, featuring a timeline and displays about the Negro Leagues and the womens' league that existed during World War II.

Around the corner from the Louisville Slugger factory is the 21C museum, a modern art museum housed on the bottom two floors of an historic hotel. We browsed some really beautiful and moving pieces. There were many exhibits from Cuban artists, and photographs from a Louisvillan who had traveled to Haiti in the aftermath of their devastating earthquake last year.

We spent the afternoon exploring Bardstown Road, an avenue lined with eclectic shops and eateries. We enjoyed a delicious late lunch (well, Heather had lunch, and I had a bit of snack, having brought a lunch with me, but still. It was a great restaurant, which I appreciated) at Ramsi's On The World Cafe, which looked extremely fancy but was affordable and had a full and diverse menu - seitan jambalaya sandwich, anyone? The room was lined with tall bookcases filled with old books and bright yellow National Geographics, which was a nice touch.

That evening, we had a chance to meet up with a group of friends and some fellow travelers for Thai food. Let me rephrase that. We had a chance to GO OUT TO THAI FOOD and the rest is just details. The company, to be fair, was delightful and I met some wonderful residents of Louisville, but Heather and I are both extreme fans of Thai food wasting away in a small town which has pretty much everything a person would ever need to be happy except for a Thai restaurant, so we squealed with joy at the prospect of getting Thai food.

We slept in a little this morning before catching a jog along the majestic Ohio River. Louisville has a beautiful, expansive waterfront park with endless networks of sidewalks and paths, lined with benches, swings, and play structures. The effects of recent weeks' flooding were evident everywhere. Debris littered the shore, and some paths were still submerged. Others remained caked with mud. Here and there, volunteers worked to clean it up as we jogged past.

In the afternoon, Heather went to meet with a long-lost theater friend and see what sort of theater-related adventures she could get into. I split off and reconvened with some of our friends from last night, convinced at the last minute to participate in the Bourbon Trail, a lightly sketched route of several bourbon distilleries in the general Louisville area.

Now, whiskey is not anywhere near the top of my list of favorite things, but I have just recently begun to acquire an appreciation for it (probably have killed off enough taste buds by now), and again, I'm in Louisville and it's something they're famous for so hey, why not?

The distilleries are all set up for vast amounts of tourist groups, and we were led on tours of the distilling facilities by perky blond tour guides. We learned mostly about the history of each distillery and how deep in Kentucky's past their roots lie entwined. We got to see warehouses stacked eight stories high with white oak barrels filled with bourbon in various states of aging. (Freshly charred white oak barrels is one of the requirements of authentic bourbon) At the end of the tour, everyone shares a little sip, wincing (well, some of us), and we go along our merry way.

We stopped on our way back to Louisville at a restaurant and inn in Bardstown, Kentucky. Talbot's has, they tell us, been continually operating since 1779. The menu boasts a list of famous people who have stayed there over the years. We drive back into town through gently rolling hills, green farmland, rugged woods. Tomorrow we will drive back through those same hills to get back to our hills in Athens!

Louisville!

Hello again! I am on an adventure, and I apologize upfront; it has been some time since I had the opportunity to write a blog entry, and I have read a LOT of literature since then. This extremely long entry which you see before you barely scratches the surface of your author's visit to Louisville. Think of it as a serial. What will come next? I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat.

Hello, long-lost adventure blog!

Well, I don't know that a blog as such can be long-lost, and my last post was only about six weeks ago. But I've been back in Athens for nearly two months now, and I've hardly stayed in one place that long since October. Musings to that effect I'll save for another day, for today I do happen to be on an adventure....

...in Louisville, Kentucky! There are many things about this adventure that is different from my typical Sarah-style adventure, all of which I welcome openly! The biggest difference is that this is (gasp) not a solo adventure! It's a nice change to have a co-conspirator; for one, I tend to be rather indecisive while adventuring, and having someone along forces bold decision-making!

The Humana Festival of New American Plays happens every spring in Louisville. Heather, a dear friend of mine, is a grad student in theater at Ohio University back in Athens, and likewise had a great interest in exploring a bit of this festival.

So what do we have now? An adventure - with a travel buddy - with an actual purpose? I couldn't say no! We'll be here for three days, even, which is ample opportunity to explore Louisville to our utmost satisfaction; this cohesion, I often lamented, was sadly lacking in my pell-mell adventures across the country this winter.

Winter? Speaking of, the season of which we are technically past made a threatening comeback to Athens this week. Wednesday, all was well. The sun shone merrily, the air was balmy and warm, birds chirped and everyone began to emerge from their months-long winter shells. That evening, though, we were beset with a tempest in all its Midwestern fury - hail, gale-force winds, rain, lightning, thunder that seemed to last for hours. By Thursday morning, the temperature had dropped markedly, and the mercury had barely risen above freezing by the time Heather and I hit the road a little after noon.

The car was filled with our excitement as we accelerated onto the highway, heading south out of Athens. Another nice thing about travel partners is they keep you motivated! Heather had brought along a variety of mix CD's, crafted especially for this occasion.

It is not at all difficult to pay a visit to our neighbor to the southwest, a fact which never ceases to delight those of us who have emigrated to Ohio from the opposite side of the country. I doubt most Oregonians even remember that Kentucky exists on any given day, and its easy proximity to Athens tickles me pink whenever I think about it. Heather, though we met in Athens, also hails from the Beaver State, so we cut quite a figure when we go anywhere together: two blond women, both of Scandinavian descent, imbued with that sort of independence that comes from growing up out West and subsequently driving 2,500 miles across the country to move to rural Ohio.

The first 150 miles or so of the drive to Louisville is one of my favorite on a long stretch of highway in Ohio. Once you extricate yourself from the jumble of highways that all run together around Athens (US-33 East and US-50 West somehow are the same road for several miles), you'll find yourself motoring west on Ohio Rte. 32. The James A. Rhodes Appalachian Highway rises up and down through the gently rolling hills of southern Ohio. If you consult Google Maps for directions to Cincinnati, that favored website will probably suggest you take a different route entirely, but I assure you that this is the best drive, and takes no longer than any detours you might take so that you can drive on the interstate a while. (Imagine! going out of your way TO take the interstate!)

This was a long winter, and indeed the terrain agrees. The trees are yet bare, and the hills around are still covered in late winter's browns and yellows. But still, as we drive toward Cincinnati, the Ohio River, and ultimately Kentucky, the hills beckon, and my heart fills with joy as I see them rolling toward the horizon, guiding us along on our journey. Traffic is thankfully sparse, and though the highway passes through no towns of major size or consequence, the journey passes quickly. OH-32 passes by a famed serpent mound, which I am constantly reminding myself to visit one of these days.

As we near the outskirts of Cincinnati, traffic picks up a little, and warehouses and businesses begin to fill in the landscape, previously occupied by farms and hills. Avoiding the deeper urban area, I deftly maneuver onto I-275, which leads us south toward the river.

The Ohio River is swollen today, yet another reminder of the interminable winter's heavy rains and snows. Nonetheless, it is beautiful; I can't get enough of this river. The rushing gray waters reflect the day's low cloud cover. We speed across the bridge, darting under a bright blue sign welcoming us to Kentucky. I race my engine as the first sign appears indicating Kentucky's higher speed limit of 70mph, and somehow navigate the six lanes of traffic until our exit appears and we mercifully begin our descent southward and away from the millions of residents which make up this metropolis.

Interstate 71, technically a north-south highway, proceeds northeast-southwest for almost its entire duration. We rise and fall, loop around this way and that, as we make our way ever closer to Louisville. I-71 and I-75 run together for a stretch just outside of Cincinnati; where I-75 splits off, several lanes of travelers rush toward Lexington, and I pause for a moment to fondly remember the first day of my November adventure (although I-75 was not the route I chose in the slightest!).

Within twenty miles or so of entering Kentucky, the scenery begins to change noticeably. Although Louisville is only 1 degree of latitude south of Athens, spring has already begun to grace the region. Heather and I gasp at the greenery we see; trees, grass, bushes, all bear that mark of spring. The hills, while still framing the road in every direction, have begun to change as well. We see sandstone cliffs cut into the side of the road, over which hang fronds of greenery. Traffic speeds along, cars and trucks edging one another out as they race from Cincinnati toward Louisville. The road curves comfortably through the hills, but I am aware that we are never far from the Ohio River, and Indiana lies just beyond this rise or that.

===


To be continued.... (Will we actually ever make it to Louisville, or will my car be weighed down by my excessive verbosity before we can even get there?)

adios, adventure-mobile

Yes, it is sad but true. The days of exclaiming, "Vamos allí! Vamos acquí!" while adventuring in my trusty Subaru are all but done.

This is the epilogue to my adventure story, an epilogue which I have been avoiding writing.

Two Fridays ago, January 28, I was in Asheville, North Carolina. The sun was shining brightly, the crisp mountain air invigorating as it enveloped me in a familiar breeze. Bluegrass played on the public radio station as I cruised into town, and my eyes filled with tears at the sound which reminded me of home.

Before leaving Kim's, I had looked up directions to a particular coffee shop. I wrote before about how the highways surrounding Asheville form an especially confusing cloverleaf; here lies the source of my confusion. I got off at the wrong exit and found myself in an entirely unfamiliar part of Asheville. I craned my neck to read street signs as I hastily tried to reconstruct a mental map of the downtown. Anyway, long story short, amidst this confusion I turned and got myself and the adventure-mobile into a traffic collision.

I was heartbroken. Here I was, less than 400 miles from home, closer than I had been in nearly three months. I had driven across the country and back - in winter! I had wound up and down mountain passes, taken back roads where few others would, squinted through fog. In the previous fifteen days alone, I had driven 5,000 miles, and without incident at all! I drove the speed limit all the way across the country and back! I am not kidding. I was so safe. And here, so close to home, so close to my triumphant return, an auto incident (the drivers' manual taught me there are no traffic "accidents").

Luckily, the adventure-mobile was driveable, which is why most of you have heard nothing of it until now. I still made it to my next adventure-stop in West Virginia, and did indeed have the triumphant return to Athens I'd envisioned. The front passenger door is pretty smashed in, though. Oh, I'd even say it's altogether destroyed. Toss in a shattered window, a little bit of damage to the front fender and a tad of injury to the rear door, mix in a 15-year-old car who somebody just racked up thousands of miles on, and the insurance company took one look at it and said "We ain't fixin' this jalopy."

Well, effectively, that's what they said. I pleaded and begged, I got an independent assessment of the damages, I thought about salvaging the vehicle (a rather complicated process in Ohio), I cried and ignored it for a few days, but then I started browsing used-vehicle listings. The insurance company is actually offering me a decent price for it - more than I could potentially sell it for. I personally believe in the adventure-mobile's strength, and have no doubt as to the engine's longevity. Not to mention, we've been through so much together! I've had the car for just over six years, and we've especially bonded over the past year.

But, like all relationships, it's okay if it runs its course. I decided that, should the adventure-mobile give out on me even in the near future, it's unlikely I'd be getting quite the offer from the insurance I'm looking at now. I have a bit of dough, so I'm able to dream about getting a slightly newer version of the intrepid 'mobile, for I still have the utmost faith in used Subarus. And it is a little bit exciting, just in the way new friends, new partners, new cities are exciting, to enter anew into an automotive relationship.

So, thank you, adventure-mobile. Over the past six years, we have canvassed much of the country. You accompanied me on countless trips to Seattle and countless more to Portland for marching band. We trekked all over Oregon, to the coast, camping, to casinos. You got me to Ohio, not once, but twice! You patiently let me drive you on extensive detours from coast to coast. You've ferried all of my belongings between several apartments, sometimes housing them for months when at times I moved at a more languid pace. You've also been my companion dashing around town, to the grocery store, to bars and parties, graduations and job interviews. You've carted around friends, family, boyfriends and dates gone bad.

I have sobbed in your domelike embrace, and laughed with utter glee. I have filled you with music, both from the radio and out of my own mouth; humid summer air and crisp mountain breezes have filled in from your open windows. You have tolerated my pasting colorful stickers on your rear, and you even survived when an untoward citizen smashed a window. You calmly have allowed me to grind gears, pop the clutch a few times (years ago! I swear!), and other tiny mistakes as I got used to your odds and ends. We've gone up mountains, down dirt roads, along the shore, parked on muddy fields, and everything in between. You've kept on trucking as I posted some 74,000 miles on you. You were my first car, adventure-mobile, and you done good.

tour de sarah recap

Here are some interesting facts about my adventure!

Miles traveled Ohio-Oregon: 3,036.
Miles traveled Oregon-Ohio: 5,435.
Total miles elapsed (including adventures within Oregon): 11,306.

Days elapsed Ohio-Oregon: 9.
Days elapsed Oregon-Ohio: 17.
Total days gone from Ohio: 83.

Here are some places I visited:

Overnight
Athens, OH
Lexington, KY
Rolla, MO
Salina, KS
Englewood, CO
Boise, ID
Eugene, OR
Portland, OR
Newberg, OR
Seattle, WA
Auburn, CA
Oakland, CA
Valencia, CA
Chandler, AZ
Flagstaff, AZ
Albuquerque, NM
Oklahoma City, OK
Fayetteville, AR
outside Clarksdale, MS
New Orleans, LA
Birmingham, AL
Charleston, SC
Asheville, NC
Athens, WV

Day trips
(or places I stopped for a bit of time while traveling)
Frankfort, KY
Jefferson City, MO
Denver, CO
Lafayette, CO
Salem, OR
Florence, OR
Olympia, WA
Ashland, OR
Berkeley, CA
San Francisco, CA
San Jose, CA
Santa Monica, CA
Phoenix/Tempe, AZ
Sedona, AZ
Amarillo, TX (drove through)
Clarksdale, MS
Gulfport/Biloxi, MS
Athens, GA
Columbia, SC

State Capitals visited:
Frankfort, KY*
Jefferson City, MO*
Denver, CO*
Boise, ID
Salem, OR*
Olympia, WA*
Phoenix, AZ
Oklahoma City, OK
Little Rock, AR
Columbia, SC*
* are where I actually either went inside the capitol building, or wandered/drove around near it. I stayed the night in Boise and Oklahoma City, and drove on surface streets through Little Rock. I also drove through, strictly on the interstate, Montgomery, AL and Charleston, WV

Other major points of interest (National/state parks, etc)
Walnut Canyon, AZ
Painted Desert/Petrified Forest, AZ
Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial, OK
French Quarter, New Orleans, LA

Pacific Ocean - Florence, OR
Pacific Ocean - Pismo Beach, CA
Pacific Ocean - Santa Monica, CA
Gulf of Mexico - Biloxi, MS
Atlantic Ocean - Folly Beach, SC

I visited 25 states: Ohio, Kentucky, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia.
That's half!

I drove on these major interstates:
North-south: I-5, I-17, I-25, I-55, I-65, I-77
East-west: I-10, I-20, I-26, I-40, I-44, I-64, I-70, I-80, I-84

several major US highways: US-24, US-33, US-49, US-50, US-56, US-60, US-61, US-64, US-71, US-78, US-90, US-101

numerous spurs of those interstates and highways, and countless state routes

Here is a map I made of my adventures. The black indicates the route I took in November; the purple is trips I took around the Northwest while there; the red is the route I took back in January. Enjoy!

country roads, take me home

I passed a delightful evening and morning with Sara and her boyfriend in Athens, WV. Nonetheless, after enjoying Pancake Saturday with them, my proximity to Athens, Ohio, sprang to the forefront of my mind. Itching to get on the road, and to find home, I bid a fond farewell to Sara and returned to the interstate.

I-77 becomes the West Virginia Turnpike, and it is a challenging if beautiful drive. If a driver is clever, you can avoid two of the three toll plazas by following specific state routes through rural West Virginia. On my last visit, Sara and Arden patiently delineated for me which routes I ought to take, a detour which doesn't add too much time and is generally worth the four bucks saved. Nevertheless, today I was impatient to get home, so I followed the interstate the entire way.

Saturday afternoon in January is a peaceful time to drive long distances, as I was nearly alone on the road. This left me able to enjoy the sun beaming down on the road before me. The mountains beckoned, seeming to say "Come home! Come home!" I heard bluegrass on the radio, and tears filled my eyes. I crossed through Charleston, one of my favorite state capitals, hidden up in the hills and framed by the rushing Kanawha River. I left exploration of that capitol museum for another adventure - I was too close to home to stop!

The Ohio River runs through Ravenswood, West Virginia, at the Ohio state line. I am in love with this river. Its majesty tells of its history: Significant in trade, westward expansion, and forming borders, I could just stare and stare. It's fitting, too, that on my first adventure of last summer, I played along its shores before exploring West Virginia for the first time.

I steered onto US Highway 33. Highway 33! This highway runs through Athens! Oh, I was getting so close. The day was mostly cloudy, but I still marveled at the rural beauty of the hills along the 37-mile drive. As I neared Athens, I crossed roads that I had driven on before, mentally retracing routes to friends' houses, rejoicing in familiarity. I took the southernmost exit for Athens, purposely driving through town the slow way. In awe, I took it all in.

Athens is still here! Athens exists! It was real!

Three months is both a long and short time to be gone from home. Matters are made all the more complicated when two of those months are spent somewhere once known as home. Although I knew this to not be true, often while in Eugene I found myself wondering if Athens was nothing but a dream. The natural features of the town, the people, the things I have done here, are such an encapsulated experience and so removed from Eugene that it was difficult at times to remember their existence, etched upon my mind as they were. I would hear myself speaking of Athens, enthusiastically extolling its merits, relaying anecdotes, and would almost stop to wonder at where in my memory they came from.

I steered through town, turning onto my street and into my awaiting parking spot. I could barely contain myself. I leaped out of my car and half-ran through the yard, patchy and soft under melting snow. I paused to gaze in wonder at the backyard before scampering up the stairs. I couldn't believe it: there it was! my apartment! looking just like I remembered it! I danced around the apartment, touching everything, turning on each light and opening every last cupboard. Emotion overcame me. Flinging myself onto the floor, I stretched out along the smooth hardwood, breathing in the sense of home. I wept, wracked with sobs indicating joy, relief, and other emotions I cannot even begin to express. It feels so right to be here, but altogether alien. I was gone for three months....but now I am back.

Daily mileage: 185. Total mileage: 5,435.
(more stats to come)

Four states in one day!

The sun shone down in Asheville, even as the forecast told of snow. I sped northward, constantly anticipating that around the next curve i would find piles of snow and ice, determined to make this good weather luck last as long as possible.

In all my days of driving on this adventure, I have faced precipitation very few times. (This is not counting the two months i spent in Oregon, where driving in rain is a given.) I faced an onslaught of snow as i approached Denver back in November, which eased within an hour. I fought rain (and low-hanging fog) as i crested the Siskiyou summit on my drive from Eugene to Auburn. and the majority of my drive in the western part of Alabama, from Mobile pretty much all the way in to Birmingham, was marked with rain. Every other day, though? Sunny skies, sparse clouds. I know that much of the rest of this winter has been brutally cold, and many of the locales I visited experienced unseasonable snow at other points.

I experienced some driving confusion trying to find the proper interstate in Asheville. This primarily has to do with the extremely silly nomenclature of I-26. Interstate 26, following the typical pattern of such things, ought to be an east-west interstate, but proceeds in a decidedly northwesterly fashion. Through Asheville, it runs nearly due north, and even has an interchange with my old friend I-40, which I just feel like should never happen. Somehow, as I left downtown Asheville, I found myself on I-40 heading west, a route that would take me to Knoxville, Tennessee. I stopped to ask for directions to I-26 West and was greeted with incredulous looks. "Well," I clarified, "it runs north, but it is called 26 West."

I have since learned that for a stretch in Asheville, I-26 West actually runs east. Now, what is the point of having a well-established system for naming interstates if you do not follow it?

Asheville is only about fifteen miles from the North Carolina-Tennessee border, which was a pleasant surprise. At about three other points on this adventure, I'd considered altering my route just to drive through Tennesse. These plans had never quite come to fruition. I had only decided to go to Asheville about a week ago while already on the road, so I hadn't had time to pore over potential routes. It certainly came as a surprise that morning when I looked on my map and realized I'd be traversing eastern Tennessee en route to West Virginia!

The sun shone brightly, illuminating mountains I was unaware existed in tennessee. Prior to this day, my only venture into Tennessee was at a rest stop in the middle of the night one summer on tour, so it hardly counts. I had envisioned Tennessee more like Kentucky - gently rolling hills, scattered horse farms, but an pervading sense of flatness. Instead, here were my Applachians, glistening in the crisp January sun. Perfect clouds rolled through the blue sky above, and I gaped at how idyllic the sight was.

I-26 terminates just past Kingsport, TN, and from there I picked up Interstate 81 North. This is another interstate that doesn't exactly follow the designation assigned it. I suspect that in this part of the country, the blame for these inconsistencies is twofold: hills and history. It is much easier to carve a straight path through the desert or a valley than the seductively winding Appalachians. Also, by the time the interstate system was created in the '50s, the eastern half of the country was criscrossed by state-to-state routes that had been well-traveled for centuries, compared with the relatively recent expansion of their western counterparts. (Did you know that Arizona became a state in 1902? 1902! That's the most recent of the 48 contiguous states!)

In eastern Tennessee, the interstate in question traverses a distinctly east-west route, but no matter. I knew it would take me into Virginia's softly rolling western hills and farmland that evokes memories of colonial days. I had previously driven on a stretch of I-81 on my Memorial Day adventure that brought me to drop in on my cousin who lives in Roanoke. In short time, I crossed from Tennessee into Virginia. I stopped at the Welcome Center to acquire another of those coveted road maps put out by the state Department of Transportation that put AAA's to shame.

I saw thick clouds in the distance, and envisioned that they held snowstorms and torrential rain, but my luck held. A sprinkling of snow graced the bucolic hills, and piles along the side of the roadway reminded me of winter's presence. The hills, both green and brown in late January, were lined perfectly with a white dusting. I couldn't have painted a better picture.

After a while, I-81 met I-77, an interstate that actually follows the rules by heading north into West Virginia. I-77 goes through the biggest tunnel in Virginia, the Big Walker Mountain tunnel. This is what it looks like in summer, but today it was covered in frosty drifts of snow.

To my left, the sun threatened to set, shooting beams of light through the bare trees to the west. The clouds thickened, a little more gray than before, setting the stage for a peaceful winter's day. I drove through another majestic tunnel, the the East River Mountain tunnel, and entered West Virginia. Four states in one day! My anticipation quickened as I neared the exit that would take me to Athens, West Virginia, where one of my dearest friends lives.

Cautiously, I slowed to the off-ramp. The roadside snow, sparse in Virginia, here consisted of freshly piled drifts of snow, and the road was thick with salt and sand. I followed WV-20 as snow sparkled on tree branches around me and the sun, thankfully, shone on. I got my first feeling of homecoming as I pulled into Sara's drive and scampered up to her front porch, flinging her to me in a heartfelt embrace.

Daily mileage: 254. Total mileage: 5,250.