ROAD TRIP (part three)

by Steven Steinbock

It’s been almost three weeks since Nate and I completed our cross-country drive from Portland, Maine to Seattle, Washington. It already feels like a lifetime. After we arrived in Seattle, we were joined by my younger son, Sam, and his buddy who flew out from Maine. Sam’s friend had never been to Seattle before, so it was a treat taking him to Pike Place Market where they play catch with thirty-pound Salmon, to Paul Allen’s Experience Music Project with its vast collection of rock-and-roll and science fiction memorabilia, and up the Space Needle. Sam’s friend had his first taste of Bubble Tea, conveyer-belt Sushi, and during a day trip over Steven’s Pass, multiple samples of Turkish Delight at the Aplets and Cotlets factory.

All three boys flew back to Maine earlier this week. I admit I was glad to see them go. Three weeks in the constant company of teenage boys was trying. But now I’m sitting alone in my private writer’s retreat and I’m unable to write. It’s almost too quiet, now.

But write I must. It is, after all, what writers do.

So, in rapid succession, on to the final few legs of the cross-country trip.

Thursday, June 23

After crossing the state border from South Dakota to Wyoming, we took a detour to Devil’s Tower National Monument. I was impressed, but I think Nate just wanted to be on the road. As we were driving away from Devil’s Tower, however, Nate stopped to look at a field where hundreds of prairie dogs were frolicking.

Two hours later we broke away from I-90 and took Highway 14 which cut through the Bighorn mountain range. I don’t know how high we climbed, but it was well over 9,000 feet. Our ears popped and the Subaru’s engine choked for oxygen. But it was beautiful. The vistas were spectacular. At one point there were walls of snow on either side of us.

We dropped down to about 5,000 feet and continued west through Cody, Wyoming. And then we climbed the Rockies and were in Yellowstone National Park in time for sunset.

Friday, June 24

After sleeping in a lodge in Grant’s Village, on the western thumb of Yellowstone Lake, we chose a path out of the park that would take us by Old Faithful and various other geothermal curiousities. My favorites were the Grand Prismatic Spring with its vast, unearthly colors, and the Fountain Paint Pots with its pits of boiling mud.

We crossed into Montana and spent the night in Missoula at an Econo-lodge where the electric outlets too loose to hold a plug (I resist the temptation to make crude analogies because this is a family friendly blog) and ancient truckers were muttering in hallways and lobby.

Saturday, June 25

For our final day of travel, we were in Washington State by late morning, and met an old high school friend of mine for lunch in Spokane.

It’s ironic, since so much of our trip followed Interstate 90, and since I so strongly associate that freeway with Washington State, that we parted from I-90 again after leaving Spokane and traversed the rest of the state along State Route 2. We arrived in Lake Chelan in time for dinner with my sister, who was vacationing there with her family and a number of friends.

Around seven pm we headed west again, crossing the Cascade Mountains at Stevens Pass, and arriving at our place in Seattle in time for bed.

There it is. I feel a little like John Steinbeck rushing through the final chapters of Travels with Charley. I apologize if I let my column deteriorate into a travelog. I’ll be back next week with something new.