Grayteful

The rain dots the morning sky, trickling down seemingly without end. When it does let up, the sky remains a shroud of gray hanging above the city. The streets and sidewalks, cement, are slicked with water. They too are gray. I drive into town and steely concrete buildings tower ahead, filled with untold offices, business, apartments.

I navigate the downtown streets, trying to remember which avenue runs one-way and in which direction, peering at signs - green street signs, flashing neon business signs, parking signs filled with what may as well be hieroglyphs. I've almost driven past when I see it: a parking spot! It's a Sunday morning, yet the three lanes around me are flush with vehicles. I scrutinize all of my mirrors before rapidly shifting into reverse and backing and filling into a spot at the curb. I find the curbside sign with the appropriate information for the spot I have chosen to see if I need to pay a meter.

I don't (they're free before 1pm on Sundays - how generous), so I scurry about my business. The raindrops have increased slightly in tempo, so I grab my umbrella. Most Oregonians stubbornly refuse to use umbrellas, preferring instead to blend into the drab scenery with sweatshirt hoods up, squinting into the rain, their canvas shoes and bookbags drenched. I never understood this phenomenon before, and I understand it even less now. Instinctively, I pull my hood over my hair; then, I proudly hoist my aquamarine umbrella into the sky and scurry about my errands.

Later, the sprinkle has momentarily subsided, so I fold my umbrella. The city is as gray as ever. The streets are busier than they were an hour ago. I wait patiently before merging into traffic. On this drive home, I don't miss a single turn. I even remember what lane I need to be in, and successfully change lanes amid busy, flowing traffic. As I drive to southwest Portland, I look over and see the Willamette River. Barely discernible blue mountains are shrouded in clouds and fog. I can almost feel the mist spraying up from the river.

Grumbling to myself as cars speed around me, I reflect on a piece I read the other day. The authors talked of how driving in traffic overstimulates the brain because we take in every last thing we see, even if we don't immediately process it. I can vouch for that; my levels of stress and confusion have risen enormously in the two and a half weeks I've resided here. The constant rain doesn't help, nor do slippery roadways, curving avenues, one-ways, streets that suddenly stop and start.

Evergreens line the boulevard on my drive. As I round a broad curve, a curve which my car effortlessly navigates and accelerates out of, I look around for a moment and take it all in. I nudge myself, remembering that I still gasp at the sight of Oregon license plates surrounding me on the streets. My little car and I, who not long ago idled lazily every day through a small town in Ohio, we have made it here. Here, to the monochrome west, the west of my childhood. This was what I wanted - a month ago, this was all I wanted.

So here I am, in the biggest city in Oregon, overwhelming in its hipness and wetness and greenness and differentness, but I am here because I made a choice. I don't know what the future holds - I hardly even know what tomorrow holds - and so much has changed so quickly. But for now, I am here, and I remind myself to be grateful. Why not?

from zero to grad school in sixty seconds

Hello, my dearest nonexistent blogworthy readers!

Since I have not updated this adventure blog in quite some time, you may be tempted to think that I have not had any adventures of late.

Wrong! I have had countless, untold adventures. More than I have room to write down (today, at least)! In fact, I have been so busy adventuring that I keep forgetting to blog!

I'll give you a moment to collectively shun me from the blogosphere.
















Okay, so now that that's taken care of. I actually do have quite a bit that I have been fully intending to blog about, and in great detail (at this, you should not be surprised at all).

After my last post on November 14, a lot of things changed. Even reviewing that particular post, the writing was on the wall: I was dreaming of the west coast, and I couldn't stop it, no matter how hard I tried and how much I consoled myself with the wonders Athens had wrought upon me.

So, I did what any logical person would do: I went home for Thanksgiving. And do you know how that went? I spent three days glued to either my mother's, father's, or sister's side, save for the moments where I flung myself on the dewy grass or gawked at the omnipresent mountains towering beneath the Northwest sky. As my flight took off, all too soon, from the Portland airport, I looked down at the swirling, rushing Columbia River and wept.

Then when I got back to Athens I applied to grad school, and approximately twenty-eight jobs in the state of Oregon. I made Christmas cookies and thought of my family. Then, on December 14, I got into grad school, a special education Master's program at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon (even the name of it sounds so - rugged!). The first day of school? Oh, January 4. No big deal.

So then I took a deep breath and kicked into high gear. In the next eight days, I planned a road trip (apparently, one of my favorite activities), quit my three jobs with apologies (here's to you, Sara C's dogs!), ran like mad around Athens saying goodbyes, packing up my apartment, shoving things off on friends (you know who you are - you're the best!), saying more goodbyes, working every last minute I possibly could, misplacing my driver's license (Yup. On the last day I ever lived in the state of Ohio I had to get a new Ohio license), figuring out housing situations here and there, and just for fun I decided to get almost-influenza.

So it was that before I knew what was happening I was on the road out of Athens for the last time, my still-cute and still-almost-as-shiny-new Suzuki loaded to the brims (with what, I'm not even entirely sure - the almost-influenza sure does a number on ya!) and really that before I even blinked twice I was Christmas shopping in Eugene with my dad and sisters. Whew! I still haven't been gone a month.

I promise you a blog post full of tales of my adventures westward. Driving across the country gets easier every time you do it (it's a little strange to have Interstate 80 as a road that I am familiar with), but it never falters in its beauty and wonder. I am still in such awe of our vast nation.

However, I know that that post will be very long and full of words and pictures, much as this one is, so I will pause for today. Also, I happen to be a graduate student and so I have real homework to do. I think that I will blog more, though, because I have to do a lot of journaling for one of my classes and it just gets me in the mood. Hoorah!

A year of adventuring

Autumn is, for some reason, always a time of deep reflection for me. I don't know if it's due to summer's slow decline into cooler days, the return to the school year, or something else that evokes this extreme nostalgia in me. This year is no different, and I have been thinking especially of my adventures of last fall.

I left Athens on November 6, 2010, and over the last week-plus I have amused myself by remembering where I was on this day a year ago, and reflecting upon all that happened and the change and growth that have been bestowed upon me since.

One year ago today, I awoke to heady gray skies in Boise, Idaho, and pulled myself onto the road for the last long leg of my journey westward. By day's end I would be in Eugene! That nine-hour jaunt was the conclusion of ten days of driving, weeks of planning, months of dreaming, a lifetime of exploring, and the affirmation of generations of pioneers.

I remember that feeling; after grinding gears and curving my way up the mountainsides in western Idaho, sweeping down through the Blue Mountains and seeing the valley before me, mountains azure enough, sun shining down as I broke through the clouds, every conceivable shade of green, and knowing, just knowing that I was home. Waves of elation and peace enveloped me. I drove on and on that day, and eventually before I knew it I was pulling up in front of my parents' house. In my car. Which I had driven away from there two-plus years earlier. To Ohio.

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of home lately. I have many homes; for this I am lucky. There is Athens-home and Eugene-home, and within and around these cities are countless places that represent home to me. I recently passed my third anniversary of living in Athens, and throughout that time my greatest struggle has been to somehow reconcile these homes, at least internally, and to comprehend the great geographical divide that exists between Oregon and Ohio. After three years, I don't know that I'm any closer to figuring it out, but like I said, at this time of year I find myself growing homesick.

I'm feeling many of the same thoughts I felt a year ago, the last time autumn began its inevitable slide into winter. It really was summer once in between, but now that even Indian summer has ended and the days are determined to be gray and cloudy, it seems like last fall was just a flash of time ago.

I didn't realize until I had been back in Athens for about a month (this would be this past February or so) how much I had in fact changed and grown during my three months away. Some days I am shocked and impressed that I did in fact succeed in spending three months not in Athens; some days I am still quite bemused that I am in Ohio at all. I returned from those months with family feeling grounded and revived - and I was, and continue to be, so, so thankful for that time period in Eugene last winter and all that it meant to me, my family, and my Oregon friends.

Since my return, life in Athens took a little bit of time accelerating to levels of never-before-seen busyness, though I did learn how to quite effectively incorporate Sarah-Nelson-rest-time, something I credit to my winter months spent in the warm embrace of family and home.

My adventuring, at least such as it was a year ago, has slowed down some. I have entrusted myself to this city and to the adventures that I may find within Athens and the surrounding county on a daily basis. I realized that my standard for an adventure relied so much on whether or not I left Athens to complete it - what, then, is the point of my being here? In the past year, I have done countless interesting things here and elsewhere.

I know that I will always retain an adventurous spirit, and that perhaps the part of me that dashes off on cross-country adventures is currently just hibernating, but I have also realized that I can't just be an adventurer forever. I can't have my cake and eat it, too; if I want and need to have roots down somewhere, I need to dedicate myself to doing actual real things in that place. The clock of time is ticking just a tiny bit louder these days.

I'm also looking very much forward to the winter adventures that I do have planned - a barely-four-day jaunt to the Northwest for Thanksgiving, and another trip for the week surrounding Christmas. Today in Athens the weather is classic Pacific Northwest - gray and rainy, highs (and lows) in the mid-50s. There's a strange comfort in weather like this; it unsettles me at the same time as it calms me.

Here are some interesting places I have had adventures in the past year: Eugene for two months; Seattle; Portland; the Oregon Coast; Auburn/Bay Area/Southern California; Phoenix, Sedona, Flagstaff, AZ; Albuquerque; I-40 between Albuquerque & Oklahoma City; Fayetteville/Little Rock, AR; the Mississippi delta; New Orleans; the Gulf Coast; Alabama & Georgia; the Carolinas: Charleston, SC and Asheville, NC; the Atlantic Ocean; a few trips to Athens, WV and other locales in WV; Louisville; a half-marathon in Roanoke, Virginia, and another in Eugene this April; Athens, Athens County and Meigs County; Champaign/Urbana, Illinois; Indianapolis; Boise, Idaho, and I'm sure I am forgetting a few.

I have done many new things. One of the most important is what I was preparing, this day a year ago, to spend the next few months doing, and that was living, being around, and caring for (and being cared for by) my family and my mother in ways that were healing to us all. I connected with people & places in Eugene in a way I hadn't before.

(Interjection: One year ago yesterday my strong, brave, talented, wonderful mother had surgery for breast cancer. I'm sure that she is doing reflecting of an entirely different sort today, but above all I am so thankful that she is now on the path to recovery, and that an entire year has already passed since that particular adventure.)

I drove 5,000 miles by myself across the country. I got in a car accident. I bought a new car. I substitute taught; I was Ms. Nelson in front of classes of kindergarteners, 11th graders, and everything in between. I went to every school in Athens & Meigs counties. I subbed in special ed, and started to love it. I took classes at Ohio University. I worked for Americorps and got involved with the local food security movement. I ran four half-marathons. I went to a wedding and was in another one. I turned 26. I dated some. I read a lot of books - some classic and some not-so-classic. I painted my apartment. I spent a lot of time alone, and a lot of time forging friendships stronger than any I've ever had. I started graduate school, and I started thinking that I really really might want to not live in Athens anymore, so I have been spending a lot of time dreaming of further grand adventures!

Anyway, thanks for reading my blog and for sticking through this extremely long post while I wax nostalgic about my adventures and the ways I've grown and changed in the past year, as self-centered as it sounds. I just hope that I will continue to have fun and have adventures. Today, as I look back over the last year, I am filled with a wave of happiness. I'm looking forward to creating a new year/life of adventures, to seeing my family over Thanksgiving - oh yeah, and to seeing Oregon football continue its season of glory. Go Ducks! (yes, I will wear that T-shirt approximately three times per week for the rest of the season.)

The Indy 528!

I know it doesn't have quite the same ring to it as the iconic car race, but that is how many miles I drove to Indianapolis and back this weekend, and I couldn't resist the connection! I guess if I had taken one or two fewer detours I could have made it in a flat 500. Goal for next time . . .

So, why the reason for this spontaneous trip to the Hoosier State, you may ask? Two reasons:

1. To celebrate the end of my eight-week summer job, in which I took zero weekend adventures!

2. Once upon a time, I participated in an activity called drum & bugle corps. I mean, if you're reading this blog you probably know this. In a nutshell: Drum & bugle corps is like marching band, except with only drums and brass, and it operates at a much higher level than marching band. For three years, I spent at least one weekend a month in Seattle, practicing marching and music with the Seattle Cascades, the nearest corps to me. As soon as school let out in June, we would hit the road, and spend each day rehearsing for several hours, competing in the evening, then driving overnight to our next destination, usually a high school whose gym we would sleep in before spending another day practicing on the football field. The performance, precision, challenges, and victories all made it one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I can't even begin to list the ways in which I changed and grew through those three summers - and its long-lasting effects have been too many to count. In terms of the marching music world, I've found many ways to stay involved, but I'm certain that the discipline and courage I learned have stuck with me in many facets of my life.

Anyway. I'll save the rest for the next inspirational essay I need to write. Every summer now, the finals competition is in Indianapolis, just four(ish) short hours away from my home in Athens! I've always intended to go, and it never quite happened, but this year it fit in my schedule, and at the quiet but firm urging of my youngest sister, I decided to go.

Athens' normally perfect summer weather has gone on its own momentary August vacation, so it was about 55 degrees out when I arose early Friday morning. The sky hung with gray as I made my way north on US-33. I briefly worried about encountering morning rush-hour traffic (the ways of big cities are a mystery to me), but I easily navigated I-70 through town, and before I knew it I was heading west.

There's a point in the drive from Athens to Columbus where suddenly the hills flatten out, replaced by rolling farmland. Green becomes brown; forests give way to sheaths of corn and oats. It's easy to not notice this transition as it occurs, but it's always instantly obvious once free of the city. Heading west, I was surrounded by fields and flat farmland, stretching along the interstate in every direction.

There's something about heading west that always evokes a bit of the pioneer in me. There's just some tiny thrill about heading into the sunset, knowing that ahead of me is the vast prairie and, a thousand miles past that, the Continental Divide. Somewhere beyond lies the Pacific Ocean and, of course, my home state. That little inkling of a thrill grew the further west I went, and the higher the sun climbed in the sky, imbuing my whole journey with a sunny blessing, urging me to just keep on heading west, destination unknown.

By the time I reached Indianapolis, the sun was shining brightly and there was barely a cloud in the sky. I arrived at Lucas Oil Stadium not long before the Cascades rolled up in their charter buses to begin warming up for their last show.

The Cascades weren't the only group I was there to watch. Before I left Eugene, I was a visual instructor for a handful of different groups in Oregon. The last year before I left, three years ago, I had the opportunity to put in a lot of hard work with my high school's marching band program. I had to leave a few weeks before the season ended to move to Ohio, but I've remained very proud of what we accomplished that fall, and I've stayed in touch with a few students with whom I felt a great connection and inspiration. One of those students just completed her first summer touring with the Oregon Crusaders, a slightly smaller corps based out of Portland. Words don't express the joy and pride this fills me with, knowing that I helped inspire her and maybe teach her some of the skills that led her down this path. Another friend of our family, who I briefly taught, also spent the summer with Crusaders, so it was a sort of homecoming for me. The full weight of this dawned on me as I neared the capital city, and I was overcome by a wave of emotion, weeping as I drove. Needless to say, I was just - just happy to see these people, to see them in uniform, to see them march.

I also got to spend a great amount of quality time with friends who I had marched with who had spent the summer teaching with Cascades, many of whom are educators in their own right. I aged out five summers ago, and yet this world still exists for me. That was another amazing revelation. So, we'll see where that leads.

I spent the next two days doing a good bit of socializing (see above), exploring Indy, and watching countless awe-inducing musical productions. There was a parade in downtown Indy on Saturday which all the corps participated in, and afterward I was lucky enough to stumble upon the Cascades playing the corps song, an arrangement of "Imagine" that resonates deeply in my soul.

After weathering an enormous thunderstorm Saturday night (thankfully we were inside the stadium and not at the Indiana State Fair across town- my heart goes out to those who were!), I was up early Sunday morning for the drive back to Athens!

Since this was an adventure, I decided to take a different route across the Buckeye State that would direct me through more of the alternately flat and hilly farmland. I left Indianapolis on I-70 going east (never quite as exciting as heading west, for some reason, despite the fact that going east actually leads me home). Just before the border with Ohio, I left the interstate. Mostly, I left the interstate because I saw an enormous fireworks superstore and I wanted to go there and stock up on real fireworks, but for some reason the only exit off the interstate to this palace of pyrotechnics is westbound. This makes no sense at all, because it is in Ohio that we are limited to buying only things that release colored smoke - not very exciting. Anyway, as I started to get all twisted about in a maze of endless county roads and cornfields, I realized that I was almost to US-35, which I knew would take me across Ohio.

I've taken parts of US-35 before; the second time I moved to Ohio, Google Maps (before I broke up with them) recommended that as the quickest, easiest route to traverse Ohio. I will say this right now: It is not. It is still faster to take the interstate to Columbus, then take US-33 southeast to Athens. However, US-35 doesn't take that much longer, and although there is a stretch composed mainly of 35-mph curves where you are always stuck behind a tractor, it still fits within my adventure philosophy.

And what a beautiful drive it was! Especially after spending a few days in the Indy metropolis, my whole body relaxed in relief as I became surrounded by green fields everywhere, and upon stopping to get a drink of water at a little gas station outside Chillicothe (claim to fame: the first and third capital of Ohio), realized that I didn't have to lock my car up tight for the two minutes I'd be inside. I like country living for reasons like that.

I tried to check out a museum outside Chillicothe, but since it was a Sunday morning, it was closed. (Why more people don't go on adventure road trips at 7am on Sundays is beyond me.) I did get to check out a beautiful graveyard, though, one of countless which dot rural southern Ohio.

Just past Chillicothe, I met up with my old friend US-50 (seriously, I'm still totally planning to do an adventure where I take US-50 from coast to coast!), which led me back into Athens as the sun shone brightly on yet another perfect Appalachian summer day.

Mileage for the weekend: 528.6

Flashback: August 13, 2008

The day I first saw Athens:

day 5: 8/13/08 athens, oh
athens is beautiful. driving here was a thing of beauty, a long stretch through the woods that was exactly the sigh of relief i needed. driving from columbus to athens is like driving from vancouver to corvallis would be if there was no I-5 or portland or salem in the way. that makes it seem like it would be a long drive, but it's amazing. coasting through little valleys and hills covered in lush green trees. i think it's more green and beautiful than oregon. that could be three days of plains states speaking, but i was blown away nonetheless. the hills looked like they were covered in fresh broccoli, billowing dark green foliage as far as the eye could see. i passed more signs for state parks, national parks, and national forests than i did for towns. as i drove, it grew dark and the moon rose and sharpened in white contrast. almost a full moon, shining down on the forests and the smooth, winding road. it was the best end possible to the past few days.

i decided that, regardless of the additional fee for being under 25, it would be worth it to rent a car in columbus. there were a series of minor disasters and misunderstandings. for instance, when you type "columbus airport" into google maps, it gives you rickenbacker international airport, which if you had never ever been to columbus would sound like the right airport. it's not. it's a tiny shipping airport way south of town. port columbus international airport is the main one, which is on the northeast outskirt of town, and it does not even come up on google maps. luckily we made it there, but after too much arguing and melting down and driving way the wrong way just for no good reason. also it was right about dinner time and suddenly my blood sugar went all over so i was freaking out as well as being tired and extremely hungry all of a sudden and... anyway. no fun. then there was another series of obstacles once we got to the real columbus airport, the kind you would probably see in the series-of-misadventures buddy flick that you painfully laugh at. yeah. backing a penske truck out of a parking garage in one of the midwest's larger airports. freaking sweet. but then, finally, success! it took about five minutes total to do all the stuff to get the car, a 2008 corolla. ohhh, just so relaxing. so wonderful and refreshing. an hour and a half to myself for the first time in five days or longer, a new car with a smooth, compact ride, low to the ground and with easy acceleration, and finally, finally on the road to athens.

and we're here! finally! after all my months of planning and looking up athens online and learning ohio facts on wikipedia, and after days of driving and $200 gas fill-ups and wrangling with a 16-foot moving truck, we are here. no more long days of driving. tomorrow we only have to drive about five minutes to our new apartment.

we finally are in a cheap motel, which explains why the internet isn't working and my computer only plugs into the one grounded outlet. and we had to drive around athens searching for it, because it recently changed its name and had no appropriate signs, and we were greeted by a balding indian man and smells of microwaved curry wafting in from the back. but it only cost $43, so i'm satisfied. and we did get to drive through most of the main road of athens while semi-lost, stopping at the kroger to look in a phone book (not helpful, due to recent name change) and buy ohio-produced cheap wine and various snacks. i do wish the day had gone so we'd gotten here earlier, because now all i want to do is explore. but that's what the next three days are for!

i still need to write about day 4: marengo, il, but that's several more paragraphs in itself. featuring: our first directional mix-up (you are not our friend, quad-city, iowa/illinois), crossing the mississippi, meeting all of chris' grandmas and many haaks, experiencing a bit of chicago neighborhoods/driving, drinking cheap wine and watching the olympics, and farm-fresh corn. the end!

Nelsonville: Yes, it is a real place!

After my grand mini-adventure last weekend to West Virginia I have had a peaceful week full of even tinier mini-adventures. More than anything, I've been trying to work on the idea that Ohio is an adventure, to truly savor the things in my daily life that are wonderful and unique and exciting.

For example, this Monday I wanted to check a particular book out from the library (I told you, always adventure armed with plenty of literature!). The Athens branch library is closed on Mondays, but the library in Nelsonville is open on Mondays. Now, for those of you following along from afar, Nelsonville is the name of the closest city to Athens. (In Ohio, everything 5,000+ is classified as a city; otherwise, it is a village. It's really quite darling to hear reports of "The Village of Chauncey" - except for, in that example, the village leadership of Chauncey is always in some sort of less-than-darling squabble.)

Anyway, I get a little bit of a kick out of the fact that there is a town called Nelsonville. When I was younger, we would pretend that our house was called Nelsonville, and write letters to each other at "1 Bedroom St, Nelsonville," and so on. But, then again, we had a very unique household.

Nelsonville, Ohio, isn't a large town, and apparently it's a Preserve America City. It's certainly gorgeous, however. It's about a thirteen-minute drive from Athens through some slight hills, a bit of countryside, a dash of road construction, and national forest. The Wayne National Forest has a park ranger's office there, and although typically I zoom past it en route to Nelsonville or Columbus, this time I stopped and pretended to be a tourist, gathering maps and looking intently at all of the historical displays set up. Then I continued up the road, under the clear blue sky filled with puffy clouds, as has so often been the case this summer. The road, in this case, is US-33, which is pretty much the only conduit between Athens and Columbus - and beyond, in most cases. Returning home from a trip, the moment I get on 33 just south of Columbus a great sense of relief always washes over me. It's kind of neat to live in a town isn't accessible by interstate. Maybe that's just me . . .

I spent the morning leisurely strolling around the central square of town. Nelsonville has a higher-than-average assortment of antique shops and art galleries. I found a newspaper and read it in the grassy central square while waiting for the library to open. After checking out my book (and plenty of browsing!) I nestled myself in another park and read for the rest of the morning as the sun warmed my back and small groups of people filtered nearby. It was pretty idyllic.


The sky has been almost unreal this summer. I feel like in that picture the sky is almost too blue to be true!

After I grew tired of reading, I went for a Nelsonville run. This is pretty much the same as an Athens run; the bike path which I so frequently tread runs all the way to Nelsonville - if I ever, in some fit of madness, talk myself into doing the full Athens marathon, I would run to Nelsonville and back on the bike path. Since I am not quite that insane (yet), I had never run on the part of the path that traces along the Hocking River on Nelsonville's outskirts. And it was beautiful. I found myself wishing I had my camera. Cliff outcroppings jutted through hillsides densely packed with trees. Every now and again, I'd come across a sturdy bridge spanning some tiny offshoot which ultimately led back to the Hocking. I passed many bicycle commuters, a family out for a bike ride, and a caregiver on a walk with two developmentally disabled adults. Otherwise, in the course of my 4.5-mile run, I saw no buildings, vehicles, or other signs of civilized life. It was almost like hiking! I also somehow neglected to see the first mile marker, so while I thought I was running about 3 miles and change, I actually wound up running 4 and a lot of change! Who knew!

Anyway, this morning I went on a jog with a friend and I did remember to bring my camera. We ran on winding County Road 20, which takes the daily adventurer out to Strouds Run State Park for some swimming and hiking. We didn't quite make it that far today, and my camera
obediently died after I snapped only a few photos of our trek, but the woods were alive today. A small stream trickled through the woods, heading who knows where - into a fantasy story, perhaps.


That's all for today!

Flashback: August 10, 2008

I am going to keep re-posting my adventure notes from my first cross-country roadtrip adventure, at least for now. It's been interesting reading them, three years later, and musing upon the ways I've grown and changed, but also exulting in the journeys I've taken and the things I discovered and noticed even then. Driving across the country in a moving truck is a decidedly different adventure than driving around the country in my car just because I feel like it, and I can definitely sense that stressful energy while reading these older posts. However, in the name of posterity, and because of how significant this maiden voyage was in my life, I will continue the trip down memory lane (how many metaphors about travel can I squeeze into one sentence? Just try me!). I am so happy that this adventure brought me here so that I can continue to have more and more adventures!

Oh, yes. And I am planning a few adventures for the coming weeks, so you will soon get more current updates from your adventuress!

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day 2: cheyenne, wy

[10 Aug 2008|07:22pm]

i try not to judge, but cheyenne is not the most beautiful of towns. of course, this is after a full day of driving through the mostly-barren south-mid-west? i don't know the name of the region we're in, technically. but it's all mostly the same looking. the occasional truck stop or gas station or, rarer, rest area or small town, speckled throughout dry, rocky terrain, some tumbleweeds, etc. not much else. we had lunch at the first rest stop on I-80, just before we hit wyoming, and that was somewhat pretty. large reddish rock formations and clear blue skies. the part of the rockies i remember from montana. speaking of which, crossing the rockies was rather underwhelming. i guess we crossed at a less, well, rocky spot, but it was mostly an hour of slight but constant uphill and then suddenly, a sign saying "summit of the continental divide"! like they say in dumb and dumber, these mountains aren't very rocky! also, i decided that whoever named the "rocky mountains" could have come up with a more descriptive term. i mean, um, yes, mountains are rocky. that's nice. i slept soundly last night, so that was extremely lovely. we got up early and had continental breakfast. it's silly how staying at a motel that charges $20 more than listed is all worth it because they offer about three bucks' worth of breakfast. but it was still nice, though i wished i had soymilk for coffee and cereal. then i drove the whole way. we crossed into utah, where they felt like having eight miles of road construction where there was only one lane at a time, over and over again. stopped to go to the bathroom at a gas station, because both utah and wyoming are pretty short on rest areas, like i remembered from drum corps. filled up gas in ogden because we weren't sure when we could next. after ogden we switched onto I-80 and this is a highlight BECAUSE.... I-84 dead-ends into I-80, which means that we traveled the entire length of I-84 on this trip! we had a high-five in the cab about that. the other highlight of the day is that we are STILL following the oregon trail exactly. in reverse. we keep crossing rivers that i remember from the game. that's pretty sweet. we also found several rock stations in wyoming, all of which have the same call numbers as eugene radio stations. and we discovered the university of wyoming. it's in laramie! who knew! we asked the front desk lady if there was a store nearby and she pretty much looked at me like i was crazy. too bad for her, it's 2008 and i can search on google maps, and i found several grocery stores that only took a little bit of driving through town and had ample parking. take that, front desk lady! we went to safeway and i bought a little thing of soy milk, and more capri sun to drink with lunch, and razors since i left mine in oregon because i want to be able to get on the plane. but my legs are extremely hairy. we walked from safeway to find food, and it was thoroughly depressing. walked past a lot of scary looking bars and men in trucks drinking crown royal and honking at pedestrians. i had another gift-card subway sandwich and subway is doing a peel-off game similar to the old mcdonald's monopoly games, and i won another subway sandwich! so hurrah! double free! then we were going to go to sonic but decided that sonic is pretty sketch if you're not in your car. the inside reminded me of a bus station bathroom. so we went to a place called taco john's/good times which was kind of like carl's jr/the green burrito. and walked back.

we are resting now. we stopped driving a little early today because the next real place we could stay was three hours farther, including a time change, so that would make at least four hours later we'd be getting in, and that would have made it hard to get up and have a productive day in the morning. tomorrow is cheyenne to des moines! des moines is about five hours from chicago so the next day we can get up in the morning and drive to chicago. woot!