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Posted by tee in photos, wandering
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“Tinted windows, 360 degree views.
State of the art heating
and cooling.
Bold color, divine design.
Beautifully textured ceilings,
and earthy, natural floors.
Fire places, and ambient light.
I hang my gloves and boots
on the piñon and juniper.
My own bay, desert waterfront,
on the upside down orange ocean.”

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Posted by tee in verse
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I never did do the recap I wanted to when we got back from the trip; I think we just fell too quickly back into our lives again and it got buried underneath everything else. It took so long to get used to standing still again. But now while I have a minute:

14,000 miles : A collection of memorable moments:

Our first dinner at the roadside table in remote eastern Texas at sunset, and the awareness that it was the first of more than 40 sunsets waiting for us up ahead.

Standing at the reflecting pool at the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial, walking through the haunting sculpture field of empty chairs - each representing a life lost.

The oppressive humidity of Arkansas, and the relief at finding a cheap hotel that night with wireless access.

Getting caught in a violent thunderstorm outside of Knoxville, Tennessee.

Winding through the thick trees in the Great Smoky Mountains.

Stopping for Christey’s native drum chain (and Stefan and Ken’s gifts too, which I can’t disclose until they get them) at a little Cherokee shop on the rural Tennessee/North Carolina border.

The quiet moment I shared with a crane at dawn in foggy Falls Lake, outside of Durham.

The instantly familiar smell of the Atlantic Ocean, before we could see it, after 10 years of being away. And the memories it brought rushing back.

Crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. And crossing. And crossing.

The lights of Manhattan in the distance, on the night of the Republican Convention. And the ensuing 3-hour traffic delays on the Washington Bridge.

One by one, recognizing my old neighborhoods in Connecticut, finally making it to my Uncle’s just after midnight.

Seeing my friend Joanna after so many years - and noticing how we’ve both changed.

Feeding the ducks at Saranac Lake in upstate New York.

The quiet ferry ride across Lake Champlain to Burlington, Vermont.

Ice cream cones at Ben and Jerrry’s.

Pushing hard to make it through New Hampshire and Maine in one night after a series of delays.

Walking with my grandmother through the cemetary where my grandfather is buried.

Being detained/interrogated at the Canadian border.

The dramatic tidal plains of Nova Scotia. And the drenching rainstorm we were stuck packing up camp in the next morning.

Changing my clothes in the bathroom at Patty’s Place Cafe.

The mud sucking at my feet at the Flower Pot rocks at Hopewell Cape.

Fumbling through ordering four sandwiches with my very limited French at a sub shop in Montreal.

Passing the dogs through the window at our hotel room in Ottawa.

Doing laundry by the lake in upper Michigan.

The boat ride in the cool dusk out to the cabin when we arrived in the boundary waters of Minnesota.

Canoeing out through the islands. Bathing in a remote, sheltered cove.

Sitting by the fire with Shane’s grandfather at dinner. The quiet and warm.

Ryan’s first catch ever - a small mouthed bass.

The rough, wild boat ride back to the van in high winds.

The battering winds assaulting the tents all night in southern South Dakota.

Climbing and scrambling on/around/in between the caverns and formations at Badlands.

Coming into Yellowstone, the incredible peaks and valleys laid out in front of us.

Free roaming bison, elk and other wildlife on the roadside.

A steam bath facial at one of the remote hot springs.

Watching Old Faithful erupt into the air.

The unbelievably beautiful, comfortable room we scored south of Jackson Hole.

The majesty of standing in front of the Grand Tetons.

The serene, winding roads all to ourselves through the Logan River Valley on the Idaho/Utah border.

The dust and salt storms at the Bonneville Salt Flats.

Returning to Nevada after almost 2 years away. The emotion that swelled as the sun went down that night on the road.

The much-needed relaxation at my mom’s in Reno.

Spending the night curled up in the van on the Nevada/Oregon border.

Sailing through breathtaking Hell’s Canyon while Shane slept.

Stopping at a Kinkos in Moscow, Idaho for an emergency fax.

A walk around Lake Coeur d’Alene.

Falling in love with Flathead Lake, Montana… at first sight.

The moment we first caught a glimpse of the unbelievable scale, height and drama of Glacier National Park.

Negotiating the unusually high, narrow and unprotected cliff roads with the van (with a bad case of vertigo), and eventually having to turn around and go back.

Being detained and interrogated at the Canadian border. Again.

The leaves crunching under my feet in the lantern-light at camp by the river in rural Alberta.. a reminder of how long we’d been away.

Every moment in the Canadian Rockies.

Running my fingers through the soft, silty turquoise glacial waters of Lake Louise.

The strands of sunrise streaming over the peaks of British Columbia in the early morning.

The disappointment of not having the cash or the time to make Vancouver Island - one of our most anticipated stops on the trip.

Being detained/interrogated a last time at the U.S. border. This being the longest and most complicated border crossing of all… back into my own country. Figures.

Watching the news of Mount Saint Helen’s activity from our hotel room in Bellingham, Washington.

Wandering Seattle’s Queen Anne and Magnolia districts.

The bright golden valleys of eastern Oregon.

1,700 hilly acres for sale near Lakeview.

The molten sunset as we crossed into California.

The city lights of Reno again as we wound down from the north hills and into the valley.

Bringing Shane’s mom and step-dad (Karen and Gene) to Virginia Lake to see Smokey the Duck.

Driving out to the wild horse ranch.

Battling a massive, debilitating toothache in Page, Arizona. (Later I had to have the wisdom tooth pulled)

The stark, lonely drama along the edge of Monument Valley.

Stopping at a remote tribal casino in the middle of the night so Sarah could go to the bathroom.

Coming to a stop at the end of our driveway, and the end of our journey, and turning the van off for the last time.

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Posted by tee in favorites, wandering
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