Playing Fair and Being Kind

HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN,

JIGGITY JIG

Part I

 

How wide is this country? This episode of “Playing Fair and Being Kind” begins with a look at the distance from Spokane, Washington to Boothbay, Maine. Google makes it a little over 3,000 miles by car and about 45 hours of driving time. It is a haul. Standing on the outskirts of Spokane and peering at the mountains to the east one imagines a journey of epic proportions. Considering it is nearly 3 months of driving and living on the go since I left Boothbay the miles I peer through are as good as a million.

 

I recall a period of lazy days while stationed on Guam. I loved walking alone on the reef looking for sea shells. I was looking for live shells because the dead ones found on the beach were usually sun-baked and faded and sand pitted. The surface of the shells found in the sandy, dry spots were not worth much. The live shells in the water were gorgeously preserved and hard and shiny; beautiful specimens. One needed to walk the reef to find them. Sometimes one needed to don a snorkel and mask and skin along the reef to do this. Regardless, reef walking in any form was risky. There were poisonous creatures lying about ready to defend their turf with whatever specialized, adapted weapons they had. Cone shell snails had spears that could inject a substance that would stop your lungs from working, the rock fish used spikes along its spine to penetrate and inject something into the soles of your feet, sea snakes could bite and spew venom into your blood stream, and the coral was able to cut or scrape your skin, shedding living organisms to leave a weeping wound that would remain that way for months.

 

Another danger of the reef for some was the invitation and challenge to take further risks; risks brought about by daring and the search for adventure. Along the reefs that surround Guam are areas that are worn through and formed into pockets and tunnels by the action of the sea. The coral is worn and broken in ways that form caves and various sized passages. It was in an area like this that I stood knee deep in ocean water and gazed at an opening in the reef at my feet. The opening was irregularly shaped but was fully encircling an area large enough for me to fit through, I think. That was the reason I was gazing at it. I was trying to determine if I could fit through it. Since it was totally under the surface of the water I would have to hold my breath for a long time to approach it and thread my body into the opening and come out the other side and then come back to the surface for air. Another consideration nagging in the back of my mind was the issue of being totally alone on a deserted section of the beach. I had no one to call to in the event that I got in a jam. Gazing for a time at the orientation of the hole and the distance from one side to the other occupied my attention entirely. I was gauging the distance and the imagined time it would take me to skin to the hole, orient my body to squeeze through, and then push off and come back to the surface for air. That’s what I was remembering while I stood alone in Spokane and peered east toward the Rockies and beyond. Would I make it?

 

The few days in Spokane were terrific. I stayed with an old pal from my days in Coronado and Imperial Beach in California. Nancy and I had been close for a while and our affection never faded. I contacted Nancy while I was having lunch with a mutual friend in PalmDesert. Nancy’s mother had lived in Palm Springs, the next town over, back in the 70s and this prompted me to look her up on-line. The search engine was on “images” and lo and behold there was a photo of Nancy looking the same as before. It took very little work to find she was in Spokane and I was able to contact her in just a few hours. We excitedly talked and yelled and laughed and made a promise to meet when I got north after my visits in Southern California.

 

In time, about a month after our initial contact, I arrived in Spokane and met Nancy at her apartment building near the center of the city. Nancy lives on the top floor facing the SpokaneRiver and the falls leading down into the town past the electric plant that has been providing power to the residents for many, many years. She has a great view of the waterfront and some of the major landmarks; buildings and other structures are visible with very little neck craning. Looking to the right from her vantage point one sees the tall stacks of the Spokane Steam Plant built around 1916. The plant provided steam heat to over 300 Spokane businesses in that era. From my reading and descriptions from Nancy I gather that Spokane has been a welcome place to live and do business for a long time. The Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes is directly in front of the apartment one block north. The bells from the cathedral announce masses and bong away the time of day throughout the day until 9 P.M. when quiet reigns.

 

Spokane is a wonderful and organized community. There is so much to enjoy and the Chamber of Commerce works hard at making the place livable as well as profitable. Nancy loves this place and it shows in her voice and expression as she tells of all the unique and inventive efforts the city has taken to accomplish what it has. We spent some time wandering the waterfront by the river park and also a lot more time enjoying the fine eateries of the city. Our last meal together was at a steakhouse on the eastern edge of the city. Wolf Creek Steak House was a luxurious and pleasant finale to my visit with Nancy. Good bye, dear friend. I will stay in touch and we shall visit again I hope.

 

I left Spokane at 3 A.M. as per my typical “once I’m ready, I go” routine. I woke Nancy and placed a kiss on her sweet face and tip toed out of the building onto the cool, dry street to the SAAB. I drove out to I 90, topped off at a gas station on the way, and headed east. With visions of the expanse of miles ahead and hours to drive the SAAB I sped across the state line into Idaho. The interstate follows the SpokaneRiver upstream to LakeCoeur D’Alene. As the river dumps out of the lake and flows down toward the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean I am crawling up the hills in the opposite direction into the Rockies, east toward a part of the country where I’ve never been. In a few hours I pass by Coeur D’Alene and Idaho and with the day beginning to lighten to gray I am in the mountains of Montana. This is where the excitement is waiting for me.

 

The sky was overcast starting in Spokane and never cleared up during the day as I drove through Idaho and then into Montana. I was not thinking of stopping because there was a nagging loneliness inside that kept me moving. The vistas along I 90 were spectacular and I stopped a few times to take photographs for my son Sam. (During a quick conversation we’d had a few days previous I’d told him I was going to be running over the Rockies. Sam said, “Take a few pictures”.) I pulled the car over to the edge of the highway as far off the pavement as I dared and look 360 degrees and see photo op’s in every direction. I must say, Montana is a beautiful part of the country.

 

As I climbed the hills into the mountains (it appeared the hills were just the tops of the mountains and I only was skipping across the peaks) I noticed the cool air and the rain being more apparent. Past Missoula the road became more winding and there was a sudden area where a road sign announced that I was at or very near the highest point of the Continental Divide; 6,300 feet elevation. The rain had now turned to wet snow and the road quickly was coated with about 4 inches of slush. The trucks and cars were bunched and slowing rapidly to adjust to road conditions. I was nearly panicked by the presence of so much snow on the surface of the road. Luckily every vehicle had slowed to less than 20 miles per hour. I was very aware that I had highway tires on the SAAB; that the studded snow tires were sitting comfortably in The Castle in Boothbay. I was never so freaked in a long time. The bubble of vehicles soon reached the highest point of the mountain and soon we were going down hill. After a few minutes the snow turned to rain and the surface of the highway was wet only and we all increased speed. I was quite relieved. I began looking for suitable place to stop for something to eat and a chance to get out of the car. I found Bozeman on the map and made the decision to travel that far before stopping.

 

After lunching in downtown Bozeman, Montana I got back on the interstate and continued the drive. At this point in the journey I became a bit bored and in between reflections on the experiences from the beginning of the trip to the present I was basically driving on auto pilot. I can’t remember the trip from Bozeman across Montana into North Dakota. I only recall a brief moment of pushing the SAAB up past 100 miles per hour for about a mile and then letting it coast back to 75, my cruising speed. I know I was looking at beef cattle and I think I spied a few small herds of buffalo along the way. Other than that I was mostly lost in thought and reflection as I said.

 

Sometime toward dinner time I accidentally stayed on I 90 instead of switching to I 94 in Billings, Montana. This minor detour took me toward Little Big Horn, Custer’s Last Stand. There is a National Park there and it is on Native American territory. I saw signs for the park and slowly it dawned on me that I was heading toward Wyoming and South Dakota. I’m not a stickler for details but I certainly didn’t feel like taking such a big detour. My mind was craving Maine and this was going to stress me too much if I continued along this road. I decided to continue to the site of the battle of Little Big Horn though. I had written a poem about the event that had met with some criticism regarding the accuracy of the event so I wanted to at least see the place. Well, the park was closed. My clock runs all the time and I was confused that it was 6 o’clock and the park closed at 5 P.M. Time means little to me when I’m driving and this trait has caused me a few minor inconveniences along the way. It still does. I was hungry and there was a ‘trading post’ near the entrance to the park. I pulled into the parking lot of a place that advertised hamburgers and wondered if I was hungry enough to go in. Something made me hesitate. The place looked more and more like a joint. There were a couple of old pick ups outside and then I noticed the sign advertised the establishment as a café. It looked more like some of the places I would suck down a few whiskeys and beer chasers back in the day. I could picture a few coyotes hanging on the bar trying to finish their drinks having been there all afternoon. I opted for the gas station quick stop next door and grabbed a soft drink and a bag of Doritos.

 

I headed back up I 90 back toward Billings and then jumped onto state highway 47 north. It would take me for a straight ride for a little over 20 miles to the connector on I 94. Rt 47 let me see a lot of farms and ranches on some gently rolling territory. This was part of the reservation and most of the structures were in good shape and the crops were planted. Along the way I saw what I thought were deer crossing ahead of me in small groups. They were quite athletic and bounded almost fully across the pavement as I approached. Later I was told they were antelope. The creatures had black tails and were small and graceful. By the time I got to I 94 the day was disappearing and the driving was getting wearisome. Custer must have seen some antelope.

 

Driving on into the night; the dark and the straight road are a bit tiring. I cross into North Dakota late, nearly midnight. I finally reach a rest stop on the interstate. I have learned that the rest stops are really a welcome sight to many travelers. I get to this one and as usual I pack my wallet and smart phone into my pockets before I go to use the rest rooms and peruse the map that is usually posted on the wall of the common space. The map usually has a point on it that declares, “You are Here!” In this rest stop are benches along the wall of the vestibule that have 115 volt outlets and I find that there is WiFi as well! Holy luxury, Batman! I spend some time sitting in the vestibule and logging into social media and reading emails, etc. I will find other rest stops in North Dakota have the same service as this. Nice touch for travelers.

 

I climb into the back of the SAAB for this stop and get a few hours sleep. I am totally impressed with the size of the states here in the northern mid-west. This is my first real stop since I left Spokane almost 24 hours ago. I am running on adrenaline it seems. I want to get to Maine quickly but the distances are greater than I imagined way back on the outskirts of Spokane. I’m going to make it though. I know I am. The car is running like a top and I’m pacing myself for the long haul. I ought to be in Minnesota tomorrow. I’m just not sure when I will be past Chicago. I know that once I get past Chicago it is only less than a day of driving from Boston. All this stuff is rolling through my brain as the same time I am making plans with friends along the route for visits; sleep over, dinner, lunch, coffee are all options and I am still wishing I could just make on great leap toward the east and to Maine. Damn! I’m so homesick!

 

I get moving again in a few hours. I 94 is a long road because it is in the longest stretch of plains country. I travel in the dark; stop for gas, get a cup of coffee, eat the candy from the bag I bought two and a half months ago. What a huge bag of candy. The flavors are watermelon, apple, black raspberry, cherry, grape. I hate the grape and I love the watermelon. While driving I reach into the bag behind the passenger seat and grab about 5 pieces of the candy. I open the wrappers in the dark and surprise myself with what I got. When I taste the grape I go for another selection right away to counter the grape. By the end of the trip I like the grape. I also keep two bottles of water on the floor of the car in front of the passenger seat. The bottles are designed for hiking and have a nipple and straw arrangement that closes to prevent spills. I got them in Palm Desert at a sporting goods store. They have been quite handy. I fill them from a gallon jug I keep in the same location.

 

The front passenger seat has been used as an office for the entire trip. I keep my laptop in a briefcase and a tote bag with receipts and other handy items; pens, pads of paper, directions, addresses, head phones, smart phone, charging cords, check book, pass port, more pens. Each time I travel I locate items for efficiency and economy of motion. The back of the car contains a tent, ground cloth, air mattress that can be inflated with a cord from the cigarette lighter, cook stove, camp table, folding canvass chairs, tool box, cooking gear and utensils, two bags with clothing, two sets of nice clothes hanging over the right rear window, plastic tubs with dry foods and food preparation gear. I have the back seat bottom removed and left at The Castle. The seat back is folded down and there is a level space from behind the driver’s seat all the way back to the trunk lid. That is where I lie out straight and sleep at rest areas. By the time I reached Trinidad, California I have mastered the skill of stowing the gear to maximize my sleeping area. I can sleep on my side with my legs curled a bit or lie out straight. It is most comfortable with padding from multiple blankets under and my sleeping bag on top.

 

Through the eastern portion of North Dakota I have had to negotiate a series of highway construction sites. Along the way I notice two highway patrol people standing just off the shoulder of the highway electronically measuring something with great interest. They seem to be involved with the highway construction details. I notice one of them is a tall blonde woman and I am reminded of my Gwen. Gwen has been a California Highway Patrol for 24 years and is a pleasure for me to speak about when the moment arises. I want to tell the tall blonde woman about Gwen.

 

As I approach Fargo, North Dakota the traffic has opened a bit, no more constructions sites and it is mid morning. The traffic is light but still I am running in the left lane a lot in order to pass other vehicles. The speed limit is 70 but I am running between 75 and 80. The road is straight as an arrow and the weather is clear as a bell. I stay in the left lane for about an hour and after a few miles of 80 miles per hour I look in the rear view mirror and see a state police car speed up to me and flash the blue lights indicating I am going to have a chance to pass the time of day with a new acquaintance. As I pull ahead and over to the side of the highway I notice the cop is a tall blonde woman, the same person I saw earlier. I don’t think I want to mention Gwen after all. The cop takes my paperwork back to her car and returns soon to inform me she is not going to write me up and for me to take it easy. I thank her and we part company. I wonder if she was affected by my screamingly good looks and curly hair, or the veteran’s license plate, or that I reminded her of her drooling grandfather. Whatever the reason I am grateful for the reprieve.

 

Fargo, North Dakota comes and goes quickly. The town is not large and I can’t remember if I stopped there or not. I think I may have to fuel up but I’m not sure. I am now focused on getting to St. Paul, Minnesota. Lynne Lefler lives near St. Paul and that is where I am going to spend the night. Lynne and I have never met. She is one of the Facebook gang who I have intended to meet on the road on this trip. Lynne is the 2^nd last Facebook friend on the list and I look forward to completing this leg of the journey and having a long chat with her. She is also friends with Kath Angier of Vermont which makes it all the more fun. The three of us have been Facebook friends for about 5 years. I have met Kath and now Lynne. As I drive the SAAB into Minnesota and steer toward St. Paul I finally realize just how huge and grand the great plains are. This has been one heck of a drive.

 

Next: Meet up with Lynne, meet up with Annie, basketball jones, Paul Wilcox and my dinner with Sam.