Writing About Travel

I wonder sometimes why there are so many good books on travel out there--and then I travel, and I know.  When we travel alone especially, we are still communing with other humans in our orbits, showing them (in words or thoughts that never get transmitted) where we are, where we've been, and where we're going.

And because for word people like us, we're trying to hold on to the memories in words on a page, capturing them fresh, as we see them.  Blogging is not the same as a book, but in some ways it's better. Every day I get emails from some of you who are reading my blog--like Linda Kot and Gerlinde Pyron this morning, for example, adding depth to the experience I'm having with your insights.  Writing becomes  true dialogue when that happens.

I was reading my companion book for this trip--THE TAO OF TRAVEL by Paul Theroux--and the one thing I've disagreed with him about is "Turn off your phone and your computer."  That might be true for some travel destinations, but for me, it's a big part of any journey that I can stay connected to home (i.e. friends and family, wherever you are)  while going into new places.

Sorry, Paul, I'm going to keep writing home.

This book, however, is a wonderful book to read on the road--as he gives snippets of writing from such a diverse group of writers.  Everyone travels for different reasons, and sometimes it seems that we should end up with a book, a product, or something to validate our setting forth into a part of the world that doesn't belong to us.

I want to call this as pilgrimage--as a time of passing through this birth month in such a way as to keep me remembering the essential qualities I'd hope to embody for the rest of the journey.  At the same time, I don't want to label it entirely as anything but what it is: a road trip.

I'm with Freya Stark on this subject:

"I came to the conclusion that some more ascetic reason than mere enjoyment should be found if one wishes to travel in peace: to do things for fun smacks of levity, immorality almost, in our utiliitarian world. And though personally I think the world is wrong, and I know that in my heart of hearts that it is a most excellent reason to do things merely because one likes the doing of them, I would advise all those who wish to see unwrinkled brows in passport offices to start out ready labeled as entomologists, anthropologists, or whatever other -ology they think suitable and propitious.

But as this book is intended for the Public, and is therefore necessarily truthful, I must admit that for my own part, I traveled single-mindedly for fun."

The Valleys of the Assassins, 1934

With that in mind, I shall continue my journey this morning--for the pure fun of it.
I'm so close to the Oregon border that I'm heading that way, deciding later in the day how far to proceed.  I'm hoping to see the aspens in full color and will be disappointed if I turn around and miss that.

Yesterday, my mood shifted in Mendocino, and I regret to report that I passed up a Bison, Beer, and Bluegrass Festival there.  That would have been fun--at least the bluegrass part of it, my not being either a bison eater or a beer drinker.

I had been dreading driving home because I had thought that I needed to go home an entirely different route than the one that brought me here.  I had imagined driving long flat hours in Nevada and Utah.
When I consulted my map last night and realized that the best route back is the one that brought me, my spirits began to lift.

There's nothing distasteful about Utah and Nevada--in fact, one day I hope to re-visit those states as well. But this trip has a different tone, and I now know this route well enough to vary it in places and see what it looks like driving south.

But wait, there's more!
I can't get this close to Oregon without stepping foot in it--so here goes, just for fun!