The Last Day...

Written the day after I arrived, June 6, 2008.

The final day of travel we reached the final destination—we started in Missoula. The previous days had taken longer to drive than expected. Yankton to Sheridan took more than an hour longer than expected. We stopped for lunch on Rapid City, but we took a different route to the interstate from Yankton, and I think that added an hour or so to our traveling time. Sheridan to Missoula took about an hour to an hour and a half longer than expected. This time it was due to mountains and weather. But the last day? That was about right.

Missoula. View outside the hotel.

I-90 in Montana. I don't know if this was day four or day five.

We were on the road for about eight and a half hours, but it felt like half that. I’m not sure why. Someone had told me the drop from the Rockies into Idaho was extreme. It was quite the drive. Kind of curvy and kind of freaky—especially for someone not too crazy about heights. Idaho was pretty. We stopped at a rest stop and two little old ladies were giving away coffee and cookies. Yes, please.

I-90 in Idaho, on the way down

Idaho. I think

We passed through Spokane and stopped for gas before we got any further into Washington. I didn’t know what we would and wouldn’t find past that point. What did we find? A whole lot of nothing until we reached the Gorge.

Eastern Washington

All the way through the eastern Washington I kept telling mom to take a picture of a bridge. I didn’t know where it was or what it crossed. And for some reason I thought it was outside of Spokane. All I know is that I had seen a picture of it so I wanted a picture of it. And there it was—the bridge across the Columbia River.

Columbia River and The Bridge

After passing through Ellensburg we went into the Cascades and up and over Snoqualmie Pass. I had heard a lot about Snoqualmie. Avalanches, rock slides… it seemed like all kinds of things would cause the pass to close. It didn’t seem so bad going up, but down? Holy crap. I swear it was straight down. No curves to make it easier or less steep. Just straight down. Straight down with people in SUVs whizzing by me at a speed I was too chicken to drive.

The Cascades in the rain

Mom thought it was prettier than the Rockies. I wouldn’t say prettier, just different. The Rockies were, well, rockier. And the trees and whatnot were farther away. In the Cascades it was all right outside the car window.

After the Cascades I got us through Seattle without getting us killed and shortly after that we arrived at the final destination.

I was exhausted. But more than that, I was disoriented. This whole trip, from planning the move to purging my crap to making the actual move, was all-consuming. Everything in my life revolved around it. Then actually making the move, driving 2600 miles to a new life, a new job, a new location, was invigorating.

It’s not the first time I had ever felt like I had accomplished something, but this was different. Driving that far, going over mountains, moving my life? Major accomplishment. So much so that when I was driving down into Idaho and into Washington I got a little misty-eyed. I had just driven across the damn Rocky Mountains. Something that, prior to this move, scared the crap out of me. But I had done it. When the new school made me the offer, even before that, when I was fairly sure they would make me an offer, the length of the move was almost enough to make me turn it down. It was intimidating. But, I knew this was something I had to do.

And after it was all done, I sat with my mom in a restaurant downtown with was a “duh” look on my face. All I could think and say was, “I can’t believe it’s all over. I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I drove that far.” Mom kept thanking me for bringing her along. I thanked her for coming with me. For five days we were in our own little world—my car and the various hotel rooms we stayed. It was kind of strange to come out of that. It feels almost like it didn’t happen. But it did.