Formula Jr
10-10-2002, 12:43 AM
For those of you who have never done this, I just wanted to pound down some words on why I live for Cross Country drives: This weekend I'll be starting on my 21st.
The United States of America is a vast country, and aside from some people asking you if you are carrying apples or some type of citris fruit, you can travel damn well anywhere you want with no hassles what-so-ever; except Michigan or Montaina or certain places in Arkansas where the cops are petty, but I digress. All in a land with one currency and language; the western pan handle of Florida also being a small exception, they talk funny there. The land and people are diverse, though really a large part of it is prarie/tundra/desert. And those places have a beauty that is an acquired taste; with a people that are alittle eccentric, but in a good, kind, natured way.
As I cross the wet, Doug Fir and fern filled hills of the Cascades, I will reach the volcanic zone with it's ashen red and grey soils that crumble under foot, and it's dust. The Doug Firs, Cedars and Hemlocks will blend into Spruce, Ponderosa Pine, Yellow Pines as I reach the rain shadow areas and finally enter twisted and ancient Juniper and then sage brush in the high desert. I then drop down to the basins of pre-historic inland lakes of catus, alkali and salt, where scarely nothing at all lives, its just dirt - pure minerals, wind swept and carved deep from rivers or creeks over millions of years. And oh, its hot. Its so hot, you can feel the asphalt taking an impression of your shoe with every step.
But, you are free here. There is nothing around and no valid reason why you can't......... do what you wish. Cause you are, and will be for a long while, the only human or humans in a ten mile radius or more. Its like entering international waters.
Between the Casades and Rockies, the valleys and hills are defined by the holdovers of immence lava flow caps who's layers were washed away; towards the west and south, till there were nothing but stacks and volcanic plugs left. These cliffs are interesting. They have caves. Caves that someone lived in 10,000 years ago over looking a sea.
Slowly the land builds upward again, upward to the Rockies, covered with quaking Aspen and Long Needle Pine; shale hill sides and outcrops of granite. And there are roads that wind about.... take them, take them especialy.
Dropping off the shear eastern side of the Rockies, I enter the unbroken prarie of mid-america. A flatness and sameness that will not end for some 1000 miles with side winds that will reface the profile of your tires and make you wonder what supermen must live here thru 30 below winters and survive.
First there it is wheat, and then slowly, blending to corn. Now and then an Oak Tree Grove. You cross one of the great mid-america rivers then and probably hit a city. The fun has just begun but your freedom is over..
Yes its 4:30 am and god damn there's alot of traffic, and they are all running 25 miles an hour over the speed limit. The pace speeds up when you round or punch through one of these cities. They know where they a going. The forest then quickly builds up of broad leaf trees, birch, maple, oak, black walnut. The forests are vine covered and the canopy deep and lush. The hills begin to roll alittle as you enter the Smokies, Blue Ridge, Applalacians and depending on season, you must deal with the fog. Then they become rolly-polly in the sense of old roads that followed the terrain as best they can due to the close crumpled hills being at odds with the new destinations. Each dip a mine field of zero visibility till you reach higher ground. And Thunderstorms that will stop you in your tracks. Then I drop down to the Cheasapeake and the sandy ground. An enter a suburb of a larger suburd, which in its' self is a suburd of a suburd that runs from Newport News to Portland.
All the old definitions of place here have been built over by something that resembles something else and therefore became all the same and for some insane reason that was New England Colonial Style.. And in the middle of it are oasis of ancient planters such as Straddford Hall or Popes' Creek or sections of the C & O. Old tabacco barns in the distance, surrounded by sub-divisions till I hit Naptown. From there, Naptown is the entrance to The Bay and I deal with the landlubbers as little as possible.... Well, till I get a steak sandwich on the eastern shore ... And they make a mighty fine, onion and Steak Sandwitch and you never had a crab cake till you ate one in Rumbley.
There is a theme to this...aside from the obvious Ken Burns literary rip-off; no really.. there is a something, I wish to convey: A closeing if you will.
See, like the open water of The Bay or setting off for the Azorres, you are on your own and in many ways just as free as traveling thru the open regions of this Great Country. Its very much a nautical experience in both worlds. I guess I always look forward to "Sailing" across the country. Cause that's what it is for the most part.
So if you've never done a two week sailing trip, this really is the next best thing. In two weeks you can cross anywhere in the Country from Coast to Coast and the experience will last a life time. Even if you just take the main roads. Its your Country, and its just waiting for you to see it. Enjoy it. Dance across it.
Owen. :D
The United States of America is a vast country, and aside from some people asking you if you are carrying apples or some type of citris fruit, you can travel damn well anywhere you want with no hassles what-so-ever; except Michigan or Montaina or certain places in Arkansas where the cops are petty, but I digress. All in a land with one currency and language; the western pan handle of Florida also being a small exception, they talk funny there. The land and people are diverse, though really a large part of it is prarie/tundra/desert. And those places have a beauty that is an acquired taste; with a people that are alittle eccentric, but in a good, kind, natured way.
As I cross the wet, Doug Fir and fern filled hills of the Cascades, I will reach the volcanic zone with it's ashen red and grey soils that crumble under foot, and it's dust. The Doug Firs, Cedars and Hemlocks will blend into Spruce, Ponderosa Pine, Yellow Pines as I reach the rain shadow areas and finally enter twisted and ancient Juniper and then sage brush in the high desert. I then drop down to the basins of pre-historic inland lakes of catus, alkali and salt, where scarely nothing at all lives, its just dirt - pure minerals, wind swept and carved deep from rivers or creeks over millions of years. And oh, its hot. Its so hot, you can feel the asphalt taking an impression of your shoe with every step.
But, you are free here. There is nothing around and no valid reason why you can't......... do what you wish. Cause you are, and will be for a long while, the only human or humans in a ten mile radius or more. Its like entering international waters.
Between the Casades and Rockies, the valleys and hills are defined by the holdovers of immence lava flow caps who's layers were washed away; towards the west and south, till there were nothing but stacks and volcanic plugs left. These cliffs are interesting. They have caves. Caves that someone lived in 10,000 years ago over looking a sea.
Slowly the land builds upward again, upward to the Rockies, covered with quaking Aspen and Long Needle Pine; shale hill sides and outcrops of granite. And there are roads that wind about.... take them, take them especialy.
Dropping off the shear eastern side of the Rockies, I enter the unbroken prarie of mid-america. A flatness and sameness that will not end for some 1000 miles with side winds that will reface the profile of your tires and make you wonder what supermen must live here thru 30 below winters and survive.
First there it is wheat, and then slowly, blending to corn. Now and then an Oak Tree Grove. You cross one of the great mid-america rivers then and probably hit a city. The fun has just begun but your freedom is over..
Yes its 4:30 am and god damn there's alot of traffic, and they are all running 25 miles an hour over the speed limit. The pace speeds up when you round or punch through one of these cities. They know where they a going. The forest then quickly builds up of broad leaf trees, birch, maple, oak, black walnut. The forests are vine covered and the canopy deep and lush. The hills begin to roll alittle as you enter the Smokies, Blue Ridge, Applalacians and depending on season, you must deal with the fog. Then they become rolly-polly in the sense of old roads that followed the terrain as best they can due to the close crumpled hills being at odds with the new destinations. Each dip a mine field of zero visibility till you reach higher ground. And Thunderstorms that will stop you in your tracks. Then I drop down to the Cheasapeake and the sandy ground. An enter a suburb of a larger suburd, which in its' self is a suburd of a suburd that runs from Newport News to Portland.
All the old definitions of place here have been built over by something that resembles something else and therefore became all the same and for some insane reason that was New England Colonial Style.. And in the middle of it are oasis of ancient planters such as Straddford Hall or Popes' Creek or sections of the C & O. Old tabacco barns in the distance, surrounded by sub-divisions till I hit Naptown. From there, Naptown is the entrance to The Bay and I deal with the landlubbers as little as possible.... Well, till I get a steak sandwich on the eastern shore ... And they make a mighty fine, onion and Steak Sandwitch and you never had a crab cake till you ate one in Rumbley.
There is a theme to this...aside from the obvious Ken Burns literary rip-off; no really.. there is a something, I wish to convey: A closeing if you will.
See, like the open water of The Bay or setting off for the Azorres, you are on your own and in many ways just as free as traveling thru the open regions of this Great Country. Its very much a nautical experience in both worlds. I guess I always look forward to "Sailing" across the country. Cause that's what it is for the most part.
So if you've never done a two week sailing trip, this really is the next best thing. In two weeks you can cross anywhere in the Country from Coast to Coast and the experience will last a life time. Even if you just take the main roads. Its your Country, and its just waiting for you to see it. Enjoy it. Dance across it.
Owen. :D