Beginning any journey is a mixture of emotions: excitement mixed with anxiety, freedom tempered by the rules of the road, and adventure interspersed with periods of repetition and boredom. Despite the images of John Wayne and Ward Bond waving their arms and yelling “Ho”, resulting in large groups of people happily trudging off West behind them, setting out on a trip is a complicated and tedious endeavor. Supplies need laid in, menus created (to facilitate grocery shopping), clothing selected and packed after assessing weather forecasts (leaving room for extras of both the warm weather and cold weather anomalies as we’ve been snowed on in June and seen 100 degree weather in March), lists created to be checked off as items are loaded on board, equipment checked to the best of my limited ability (this trip we have a failed microwave, backup camera, and radio), and reservations/tickets verified and packed. I’m convinced the pioneers had it easier.
We’ve traveled up and down the Columbia River Gorge together for 50 years, whether to visit Lydia’s relatives in Goldendale/Klickitat, the 20 acres we owned outside Goldendale for a few years, our son when he attended Boise State, or our daughter after she moved to Spokane. It is easy enough to become bored with the familiar scenery, but we try to focus on the changes we see, the variations in the river colors, and the ongoing search to see mountain sheep (we’ve spotted them twice) or the occasional coyote. We’ve watched nature’s progress as a house, half buried in a mudslide years ago, has been slowly surrounded by new growth and is no longer visible from the road. (Sort of a Schroedinger’s cabin…it is both there and not there at the same time.) Our boredom has been further alleviated by the sporadic out-of-state drivers, who seem to regard RVs as an aberration of the highway, and so speed past us, then cut closely in front, unaware of how slowly our rig comes to a stop and how near they have come to activating their life insurance policies. Occasionally, we stop for gas, a grocery bag of junk food (justified as “road trip” supplies), or the call of nature. We don’t linger long. We both agree that the journey is as important as the goal and that we should be in the “now” in all things. But, alas, we are both goal-driven people.
So, here we are in Boardman. From here we will “commute” to the Round Up, as any camp closer has been booked for a year. Also, this far away, we avoid the late-night celebrations of rodeo attendees toasting the day with copious amounts of fermented grain residue. Like any good pioneer, we will take today to reassess our situation, make revised plans, and sit in the sun. We will make do without the microwave, though I find it hard to go to sleep without a bowl of popcorn, listen to the radio rather than our CDs, and avoid backing up.
We’ve both brought books and the sun is coming out. It’s going to be a nice day.

Blessings.

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