Reflections

It all started early this morning at a 24 hour Laundromat in Vegas. A weeks worth of traveling had accumulated quite the collection of dirty laundry and being at the halfway point of our trip, I felt it was time to remedy that. It was 7:00 in the morning and already 90 degrees. I had asked Lloyd if he wanted to come along but his gesture of rolling over in his bed and muttering incoherence spoke for itself. Once downstairs, I pushed my way through an already busy casino area at the Excalibur. It's not often one gets to witness fellas downing Coronas and Bud Lites at such an early hour. Anyway, a few buttons pushed into Alice our GPS and I arrived at my destination. Once the quarters were all deposited and vending machine boxes of Tide were dispensed, I was able to sit down and for the first time reflect on the trip so far. We have covered so much ground in such little time. I'm still amazed at all of the geographical, climate and cultural changes we've crossed in just 2200 miles.

The northwest is one of the most easy going and refreshing parts of the world I've ever been to. Every direction you look is painted in a rolling, lush, evergreen tone. If the Atlantic Ocean is beautiful by its grace, surely the Pacific is by its power. The coastal cliffs provide a barricade for the sea as its rolling white tides daily pummel the shore. The rocks that shoot up out of the surf stand isolated like small mountains, taunting the relentless aggression of the Northern Pacific.

The snow capped mountains in the distance, such as Ranier, Hood, and St. Helens stand like a distant observer, puzzled at the civilizations that have cut roads and highways through the once undisturbed landscape. Waterfalls, canyons, and rives required millions of years to tear their way through to existence while the open road has staked its claim in just a short century. Still, the citizens of the northwest seem quite concerned with preserving as much as possible the beauty that is their home. Furthermore, they have been some of the most friendly folks we've met on this trip.

The redwood trees of Northern California are some of the largest living organisms on the planet. The sheer size is breathtaking and surreal as most trees this large are usually seen in prehistoric films. The redwood trees are soft and often hollowed out at their base. While most remain upright, quite a number have fallen over and lay still like sleeping giants not to be disturbed.

Once we we're out of the forest, we were once again driving along the coast. Only this time the ocean was a much brighter blue than in the north. There was also much more development along these highways with an eternity of signs prophesying an abundance of tourist traps in our future. The cliffs along the coast were even higher than the ones in Oregon. While traveling down historic Highway 1, we were constantly changing direction and elevation as the road is like a 300 mile snake, lying still along the sea.

The city of San Francisco is a sometimes grid, sometimes catacomb of streets, neighborhoods, and districts. The wharf area looking out over the bay is a circus town full of restaurants, boat rides, sea lions and one very bad magician. The whole area smells like fish with everyone from street vendors to five star restaurant offering clam chowder and crab legs. The evenings are actually quite chilly as wind from the bay funnels through the city streets.

The drive from San Francisco to Las Vegas is like the ever changing weather in Illinois. For a while, we were surrounded by thousands of acres of vineyards on either side of the highway. This eventually mutated into golden rolling hills chasing us for miles. To the outskirts stood the questionable mountains. Not always so grand as to be defined as such nor so meager as hills. They were the social outcasts of purple majesty overlooking fruited plains in the north. Like a scavenger, keeping its distance for a time, waiting for any signs of death, these ranges zoomed in and out of our periphery for miles. As we passed though the Mojave desert, we caught scattered glimpses of angry Joshua trees, mocking travelers with their contorted expressions. The closer we came to Nevada, the more traditional the carved out mountains became. Sharp edges, layers of slopes, dazzling peaks of a consistent grayish, reddish, brown leaned in close as we passed through their bellies.

No sooner had we crossed the state line than the highway became a side show of hotels, casinos, gift shops and amusement parks. All standing isolated in the desolate wasteland, false gods of the ensuing Mecca known as the strip. Hotels and casinos featuring tributes to every culture known and not known to man. Demonstrations of man's ability to create and self destruct. Magicians, comedians, and showgirls are promised to all via billions of watts of electric power. Romanesque archways and pillars, Egyptian pyramids and obelisks, Medieval castles and even scale replicas of Paris and New York City; when the aliens invade this planet, they're going to be quite confused at the space-time collision that occurred in southern Nevada.

All of this has brought me to the present, watching partially wet laundry tumble and chase itself in a coin operated dryer. So far, our trip has taken us to more places in just over a week than most people see in a life time. In gaining some perspective on the world and taking something away other than postcards and dirty laundry, I am pondering the immensity of this planet as I've really only seen about 8 percent of it now. I am overwhelmed, not only by the overload of beauty these eyes have beheld but the grace that follows us every step we take. This grace that found me in central Illinois and has chased me all the way to Vegas. The grace that provides paths and strength and points of escape when necessary.

This city is a wonder working marvel with a deep undertone of worlds of sadness without end. Finding the bottom of the bottle and realizing there was nothing there to begin with. While the lights, bells and whistles of the dog and pony show seek to mask the despair, one can breath it in like the fresh mountain air of Portland. That which everyone seeks and finds with all their hearts is given freely, leaving the empty feeling of having passionately focused their affections on mere trinkets. What was supposed to deliver has failed miserably and therefore, we must construct more in order to create for ourselves newer pursuits. Though the lights never shut down, every shift has to go home and face themselves without the adornments. To shower and try to wash away the day though another is only hours away.

This city... Oh, wait, you thought I was talking about Las Vegas.

I think my clothes are dry now.


Permanently Pressed,
H.