Mission Accomplished

One week shy of three months, my 10,292-mile journey to Florida and back ended at 3:40 p.m. yesterday (June 26, 2013), a couple of days later than anticipated when leaving Butte, Montana last Sunday. Eighty miles short of my intended destination of Spokane, I was blindsided by a final touristic urge at historic Wallace, Idaho where I stopped to take a look and was trapped for two days by non-stop thunderstorms.

 

The TV weather people called the continuous rainy ride in those last days a "rare atmospheric river" of moisture coming from across the Pacific. My friend Mike would call it, "Bernie must be on vacation again." Either way, it was doing its best to add a shot of misery to my otherwise enjoyable odyssey across America. But that mild misery was offset by the excitement I felt in those final miles to be reunited with Sherry and, yes, even the critters .... Maggie, Nigel and Hope ... who recognized me after all this time and in spite of my accumulation of white whiskers, evidence that a rolling stone does in fact gather moss.

 

Reflecting on these past three months, I consider it rewarding, having met and overcome the challenges of the road. Though not fun at the time, looking back, as Cousin Jim says, I will call environmental confrontations such as the nostril-shutting winds of New Mexico and Texas, the sweltering, bug-splattered humidity of Florida and the rain-hammered plains of North Dakota, "adventures". Having weathered those stormy encounters gives me a sense of accomplishment and I can endorse it as a remedy for the eroding effects of boredom in anyone's life. 

 

In addition to the enjoyment of meeting cousins, new and old, and reuniting with friends from my past, I have a new perspective of our vast country, having reduced stereotypical views once held. Not until you explore it for yourself do you realize all is not what we are led to believe by the media-perpetuated views of others.

 

For example, having imagined it a heavily populated hotbed of industry, I was surprised by the crowd-free farmlands of Michigan and the isolation of its Northern Peninsula, nearly a wilderness. The same is true of northern Wisconsin and Minnesota. I still wonder why these areas were passed by in the populated push to the west over the last two centuries? Perhaps the harsh weather said to occur in those regions? 

 

Some fail to understand when I say "the ride itself" when answering the question what I enjoyed most about the trip. Ironically, it can also be the worst part of the trip, a fine line that can be crossed in the same day. Nothing's better than riding a country road lit with morning color, nostrils filled with dew-fresh scents wafting across desert sage, fresh-plowed fields or evergreen forests, and the invigorated sense one feels leaning into the curves astraddle a thunderous power under your wrist-twisting control.  It's a world unknown to cage-restrained motorists.

Conversely, when those calm breezes become body-slamming gusts, the colorful morning light morphs into storm-threatening concern .... then unleashes a tortuous, water-boarding deluge, or, at the very least, nature's pleasing fragrances turn to manure-coated pastures or putrid roadkill ........ well, it's then we make pleading eye-contact with passing motorists who look at us with curious sympathy from the comfortable confines of their sterilized world. 

The details of this epic ride are yet to be written, which I hope to do from the reclined comfort of the easy chair in the coming weeks.

Speaking of "missions accomplished", Sherry and I are at odds about what that means as she reminds me the only throttle-twisting sound she's concerned about right now is that of the hedge trimmer or weed eater. My new mission starts tomorrow.

235 Miles

325 Miles

233 Miles

 

10, 292 Miles