Well, it’s finally hitting me. We’re well and truly on our way home. We just turned left and the snow-capped mountains of Colorado are in the rearview mirror, quickly obscured by trees. Kansas is a ways ahead of us, but very quickly the landscape LOOKS like Kansas, not the stereotype that Colorado promotes at all. Industry takes over around the highway, rolling out to stunted trees and brown fields to the horizon. And all the while I’m wondering when we’ll have that moment of wonder again, seeing the mountains looming in the windshield ahead of us. Will it have to wait till next year?
Both Heather and I agree\ it won’t be another 7 years before we do this again. My soul really chafed as so many people remarked “wow, that’s a big trip” or “well, I guess we can let you leave the store for a while every decade or so” or whatever else – it meant that my self-definition of being a touring artist was no longer how people saw me – and this trip and the optimism that it has engendered gives me a little confidence that I can take that definition back. I have no real interest in returning to our previous status quo, and both Heather and I are chatting about a return to our more road-oriented Lifestyle, but with the intelligence that over ten years of touring has given us. A renaissance of sorts. There’s no iteration of that that sounds good ilyAIMYtized. An ilyNASISSANCE seems terrible. As does a renAIMY. I dunno.
Piles of hay and piles of wood and piles of bone are being passed swiftly here in Eastern Colorado as we parallel railroad tracks and race the sun to teach a course in exactly what I’m talking about. Liberal, KS and Seward County Community College has asked us to speak to their students about being a touring artist, and then to perform. I sort of wish we could do it the other way around – sort of show our credentials first, but I have confidence that we’ll talk a good game even if we don’t get to SHOW our game till after we talk it.
It’s sunshiney and the road is straight and not even the knowledge that we lose an hour to time zones can dampen our spirits. But there’s still that gnawing feeling of going home – and the unsure question of “why?” answered dissatisfactorily – the only reason “why” is that that’s where it says we’re supposed to be on the calendar.
Some wildflowers at Wildflower Village, Reno, NV. Wildflower Village is many things, but subtle isn’t necessarily one of them. Still, part motel, part music venue, part coffeehouse, part art gallery, part art studio and part roadside attraction, it really SHOULDN’T be too subtle, should it? I LOVE this place – and it is single-handedly making me look at coming back to Reno, NV as soon as ilyAIMYily possible. The idyllic beauty just outside our door at Wildflower Village. One last piece of awesome from Wildflower Village. This is the bell from their drive in coffeeshop. Ring for service! Pat’s bells are the best! Two beautifully powerful locomotives housed outside the Union Grill. Kristen found this Lovely restaurant on the outskirts of Salt Lake City after we found that the open mic we’d planned to attend wasn’t really an open mic. The food was great, and they have a bunch of some of the more powerful old locomotives used in the local mountains as part of a pretty wonderful collection. As usual, Kristen wins and finding random dining spots, even on short notice.
October 15th driving through Utah, Wyoming and Colorado. Cause Heather’s a BEAST!!!
Stopping at a random gas station in Morgan, UT we not only encounter a giant, award-winning nearly one-tonne pumpkin but this awesome sign with distances to…. everywhere in the U.S.! Said giant pumpkin. Utah Giant Pumpkin Growers won best-in-state, but failed to bring home a prize from California where this 1800lbs monster lost to something nearly 300lbs bigger. Coming back across the country and stopping at the Wyoming Welcome Center – well, a farewell centre for us, we run across this very cool sculpture… …and proceed to climb all over it. An amazing sunset over southern Wyoming, just as we’re about to cross the Colorado line. It hadn’t occured to me that Colorado wouldn’t feel like “the West” anymore, but as we watch the sun set in Wyoming over our noble steed, we realize just how far we’ve come… A new warning sign for us! Crossing the Salt Flats was beautiful and strange. I wanted to turn out across the flats and just DRIVE. An Echo for my nephew, Max.
