Snowvember
Look out – an actual tumbleweed!
We gave ourselves 5 days to get to Mexico. There was no reason to linger in the USA: it’s expensive and cold; two things we were looking to avoid. As a kid, our family would race down to to LA in three days via the I-5 – the quicker we could get to Disneyland the better – but I was tired of that route. I had done it. My plan was to go further east and then go south. This would take me down roads I’d never travelled (and maybe never would travel) and wasn’t that the point? In short, it was over the Cascades for a first night in Yakima. From there, southeast over the Columbia and cutting the far eastern corner of Oregon to Boise. After Idaho it was a straight shot south through empty northern Nevada with Las Vegas in our eyesights. That would be fun! Not that either one of us are “Vegas” people, but it would be an interesting treat, a ‘well, I was in the neighbourhood’ kinda add on. First we had to get there.
The border stunk. I should have been more savvy and guessed that it might have been, on a Saturday. But there was no reason for it to be as long as it was and who’s idea was it to take away the washrooms? An hour and a half or more in massive discomfort? Maybe we didn’t want to go to Mexico.
Then we were away at last and flying down the I-5. The way is familiar, as is the quality of American highways. Yes, they are fast. They are also bloody noisy and prone to spontaneous slowdowns, accidents, and weird vibrations. A touch of anxiety set in: such a long way to go, was I up for the demands of the drive? Was our car?
Soon both were put to the test. We had to go up and over the Coast Mountains through Snoqualmie Pass. It seemed, in my mind, as good a route as any. Still early in the season, the way dry, no threat of snow troubles until all of a sudden there was. It happened very quickly. The snow began to fall and then collect, when suddenly we rounded a bend and found traffic coming to a halt where the white stuff was beginning to accumulate. Here followed plenty of stress as we inched along, not sure if we’d be turned around, stranded overnight or pulling over to the side as our fuel ran out. Gradually, lanes merged into one, the spin-out stragglers left to the sides as we moved as a unit, slaloming through the semi-trucks blocking the way. A few hours later we dropped into Yakima, a beautiful setting sun lighting the way and it was almost possible to wonder what all the fuss had been about.
I’ll save my thoughts on the Super 8 we stayed in. They had a waffle maker for free breakfast, so that’s something. But no time to see the sights (sights?) on this trip. It was bagged salad for supper and back on the road the next day.
I liked this side of eastern Washington and Oregon. Gone were the green mountains and douglas fir. Here was dry rolling high plains, quiet farming communities, and wind. Yes, the wind became our constant friend: head on, sideways lifting the car, and maybe the occasional gentle assist. Later, we crisscrossed the Snake River and I made a note to read up on its history, youthful memories of the Oregon Trail feeling refreshed. There was more snow, but of the dry, dusty kind. Each time we met another small set of hills to cross, the snow would return, yet never threatened.
Night number two was in Boise, which was much like Yakima. Ramada by the highway and dinner in the room. Here the hotel seemed like it was in the midst of being decommissioned. There was a pool and hot tub, neither heated. The halls were quiet, extra spaces for lounging and conference rooms, turned into storage spaces.
At last we turned south at last, we entered Nevada which I will cover in Part II…
