road trip photo diary

I flew back into San Diego last Wednesday night. The flight was uneventful. I sat between one guy who slept in a variety of positions for the entire duration and another who played Solitaire, then Temple Run, then Solitaire again. I'm not a good flier, uneventful is a good thing you guys. 

One word I can use to describe this past trip: whirlwind. I know that sounds cliche, and it is, but traveling through 8 states, 3 time zones, and multiple temperate climates is a lot for any person to take, let alone someone from Southern California. It's been a few days since I've been back and I'm finally getting around to editing my pictures from the trip. Here are some snaps from the first (the road trip heavy) leg of the trip and some stories too, there were many. 

dawn in California

"Do you want me to drive first?" I looked at Kelley's face, she had just said goodbye to her Mom. It was hard to see in the dark, but you could see her eyes were welling up. Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when you won't see the person you're saying goodbye to for months, especially when that person is your parent. 

She answered me and smiled."No, if I don't drive now, I'll cry for the next 2 hours. And I already did enough of that last night." I remembered this wasn't just a road trip for Kelley but a real move forward, a new chapter, a next step. And where my goodbyes ended with a see you in a couple weeks, her goodbyes were kind of permanent. Immediately upon jumping into her midnight blue Ford, her giant dog Cooper panting in the backseat already, we turned on Pandora (Ellie Goulding Radio) and I asked an array of distracting questions, and it worked. I actually distracted. The sadness in Kelley lifted as the daylight emerged.  

Driving east you chase the sun until you outrun it, only seeing it when you look back. Kelley wasn't looking back, and that is something I really admire. 

sharp turns in Arizona, I didn't drive this part

The first part of the drive which we started at 5 AM! was California (familiar and dark), Nevada (dry and windy) and a tiny sliver of Arizona (rocky and beige). The miles ticked up on the odometer, and the "Welcome to.." state signs came and went too fast. Vegas appeared amidst the sand but almost as soon it was in sight, it disappeared in the background. The trip didn't really kick into full gear until Utah. Red dirt country. The whole state had an orange red glow.

Utah 

Cooper practically blended right in. 

I could have taken a million more pictures of this state but as it was my turn to drive some of the most picturesque views were out of photographic reach. We did get to pull off the freeway a couple times and admire the landscape. We found a path to hike where the above pictures were taken. The flat top rocky hills popped in every direction. The green shrubbery a brilliant counterpoint to the sometimes overwhelming red orange dust. 

The first day (around 13 hours) ended entering the cold and dry Rocky Mountains of Western Colorado. The sky was bluer, the clouds whiter. Every color had an exclamation point. 

taken from the car, didn't even see the sign coming

tunnel vision

After staying in Glenwood Springs for one vey cold night we headed out early to get a jump on day 2. We weren't expecting quite the drama mother nature had in store. I vaguely remember Kelley mentioning to me sometime in Nevada, "Yeah, April is like crazy storm month, didn't you know that?" I didn't, and if I did I may have had some more thoughts about this little trip we were doing.

Kelley and I 

The day started off with a few snow flakes that soon gave way to a full on blizzard. I may be a little dramatic in my retelling, but I had never driven through anything like it. Once we got to Veil, in the heart of the Rockies, it was hard seeing in front of you. The river was a dark mass floating by continuously, the mountains were close, yet in the snowy fog seemed out of reach. I touched the passenger window, icy. Soon enough we were dead stopped in the middle of I 70, car running, heat blasting, snow falling and falling and never not falling. We didn't move again for almost an hour and a half. There was an accident up about half a mile in front of us. Kelley and I just looked at each other, laughing nervously, we were both thinking, just get us off these mountains. We had a schedule.

stopped in traffic for 90 minutes!

snowflakes on Cooper 

"Ethan, I can't sit here for who knows how long, I have to go." Kelley said to me, panicked. I didn't take her seriously. Her dog Cooper was snoring in the back seat, oblivious to our traffic dilemma. 

"Where are you going?" I asked, confused. There wasn't really anywhere to go, and it was 21 degrees. 

"No, I have to goooo. Like what am I going to do, I can't go pee outside." Oh god. I wasn't even thinking about going to the bathroom, and it hadn't even been 15 minutes of us being stopped until she said something. Of course the moment she said she had to, I had to. Isn't that how it always works?

"It's okay, we're gonna be moving any second, it's just a little traffic." My attempts at reassurance were pathetic. I looked at my empty Starbucks cup,  Kelley's was right in front of it, and glanced back up at Kelley's face. She caught my eye and knew what I was thinking. The thought! We both instantly started laughing hysterically, waking up Cooper. 

"I was totally thinking that but if I do you have to promise me to put in your headphones..." 

I interrupted her and said, "I'll even put my jacket over my head, I won't even know." We both looked around outside, the snow was gentle now, and all you could hear was the common hum of the car engines outside around us. I put on my headphones and threw my jacket over my head. 

A few minutes passed, and Kelley nudged me. "Is it safe?" I yelled out. My podcast was blasting. 

"Yes. I had to go so bad I filled up two grande Starbucks cups!" After laughing again for a solid 10 minutes, Kelley turned to me and said, "You better not put this in your blog." 

* * * 

Snow turned into rain as our descent down the Rocky Mountains continued. Denver was just in front of us, and the wind shield wipers looked tired. Eastern Colorado into Nebraska is a remarkable piece of American landscape, if for nothing else than it may be the most boring stretch of highway I've ever driven (you'll notice the lack of photos, or none). In hindsight the rainy weather was a blessing. It moved us along, compelling us to always look around, notice the clouds, mind the traffic. This part of the trip, according to Kelley, is monotonous, flat, cattle land. 

When you're flying over middle America you hardly ever look out the airplane window. From above it looks like perfectly spaced squares: brown, green, yellow. Driving through it I thought about the immense open spaces, the agriculture and how its sustained. Looking into the distance had new meaning. I watched the cows graze, and tried to imagine how some people embrace and actually live in this environment. It may not be much to look at, but I understand it's doing a whole lot. 

The last three hours of our drive to Lincoln (our second destination), was a blur. I mainly spent the time obsessively following the doppler radar on The Weather Channel app on my phone and asking Kelley every 10 minutes whether we should stop and wait the storm out. Of course our day of torrential rain turned into an evening of torrential thunder, with some really charming lightning thrown in to make it extra special. Can you sense the sarcasm? Suffice it to say, the day ended with two double Jacks on the rocks at the cozy hotel bar of the Comfort Inn & Suites in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

rolling hills of Iowa

me on the Missippi

Kelley and Coop 

The last day of driving presented most of the same things as the previous two: Trader Joe's snacks, gas stations, Pandora, podcasts, inside jokes. Yet on Day 3 there was NO BAD WEATHER!! Hip Hip Hooray! Iowa contained endless rolling hills of green grass and a state line that is world famous. The Mississippi River is 2,320 miles long, begins in the northern part of Minnesota until it ends, the remaining streams flowing into the Gulf of Mexico at the Mississippi Delta. The river is the dividing line between Iowa and Illinois. We made sure to find a great spot for a photo op, on the Illinois side. The sun, which proved so elusive the past few days, was now harsh and bright. The air thick with mug. Our destination was so close, about two hours away. The environment was unfamiliar and anticipation was finally settling in.

Where on Earth were we going? Where was my friend going to live? How? I could only begin to imagine. We would be there soon enough. We got in the car for the final stretch and Kelley was smiling, for her there was only relief and excitement, no questions. The windows were rolled down and the air rushed and swirled through the car, picking up dog hair and obscuring the music from the radio. We had to turn it up. We were gaining momentum. I turned towards Kelley and watched her, her gaze and attention only looking forward, her hair flying in every direction. She was free.

update

It has been almost three years since I graduated from college and looking back I don't think I was ever more satisfied personally. Isn't that the case for most of us? After who knows how many years (it took me 5), the studying, the papers, the nonsense, the price of parking, the stress was going to be over. All of those people who asked those terrifying questions leading up to graduation like: what were you going to do, what was the plan, how are you going to use your degree, do you have a job lined up? They didn't exist. It was all smiles and relief. What mattered was that you were done. And the summer. But remember summers are heart breaking more often than not because they always end. This satisfaction wasn't going to last. 

For those of you who had a plan after graduation I applaud you because I didn't and didn't care that I didn't. And in some ways I think I didn't need one. For so long, there was the itinerary of high school, junior college (for me), college, work throughout, pay your bills, make friends, day dream, things will work out after. No one tells you that school is the easy part. What do you do with a Sociology degree when you're too anxious to be a social worker and too bored of statistics to be a researcher? I guess you don't use it. 

It took me a year after I graduated to quit my job. I worked at a restaurant for seven years. 7! My first job. I was making too much money for such mind numbing, and socially crippling work. I hated the public, in some ways still do. I don't know why I stayed. There wasn't much else? I had a cushy schedule, time off when I wanted, bosses who respected me, friends to talk shit with, weekend plans. Why leave? Because after a while you realize you must do something. The crushes on boys who would never like you back wasn't ending, the schedule was stagnant, the atmosphere too comfortable, too familiar. The experiences that seemed so fresh and exciting when you were 20 don't have the same impact when your 23. After I quit, I didn't have a plan either. I was unemployed, uninspired, asking myself what did I want to do, who did I want to be? 

I'm 26 now and recently I've been asking myself those same questions again and again. 

                                                                             * * * 

The last time I even attempted to write a blog post was at a coffee shop on Franklin Ave in Brooklyn last summer. That was 8 months ago. It's not as if I haven't thought about writing since, I have. All of the time. Life gets in the way. Actually, I got in my own way. A few friends encouraged me to continue. Ideas swirled around in my head about blog topics, and San Diego photo diaries, and stories about my life here, but I didn't write. I couldn't. And in all honesty I don't know why. Maybe laziness is the easiest answer. Being lazy is so easy, all you have to do is sit back and watch, instead of get up and do. And let me tell you, a lot changes when you get up and do. 

When I got the opportunity to go stay in New York city for the summer I jumped on it and looking back I can't believe how fearless I was. It's as if nothing else mattered but me being in New York. I was to experience the city and everything that it had to offer. It was a personal dream come true. I didn't have a plan while I was there, a common theme in my life apparently. I didn't even have this blog. When I began writing my first post I was in the living room of my Brooklyn apartment, jet lagged, and terrified. There was a Great Dane staring at me, and I still remember the sweat dripping from my forehead, wondering when I could take a shower. One roommate was busy working on and remixing a record, the other filming a YouTube video. What was I doing there? What could I do? I've always wanted to write, this was the time. So I did. 

And through this blog I was able to share memories and experiences and photos with those who wanted to follow. But more than that it was a way for me to focus my energy on something creative and fulfilling, something I could be proud of. It was for me. Most of us, I would hope all of us, want to be proud of what we do. But what if what you want to do is out of reach, a challenge, not financially stable, scary? Do you do it anyway? Do you push through what's hard and pray for the best? I guess you can say that for the past 8 months I haven't tried hard enough. I tried so hard in New York for 10 weeks straight with nothing to distract me, it seemed to sap me of all creative energy. I'm still trying to get it back. 

In the past few months, I've watched friends get married, quit jobs, graduate, pursue their goals, demand raises and move away. My friends do everything, they keep me going. There have been fleeting moments of inspiration and many days of distress. Nights of no sleep, and sometimes near constant worry. It hasn't been easy. It almost never is. Watching my friends do the balancing act of life, some with relationships (don't get me started) and jobs, some with creative pursuits and school, I'm amazed at how they can just do it. Life appears so easy. They know what they want to be, they know HOW they want to be. They make decisions. I decided to make some decisions too. I moved out of my parents for the third time. Third times a charm eh? I asked for and got a raise. Not a good one but one nonetheless, one that could actually support me. But something else was missing. If you never write anything down, can you still call yourself a writer? 

It's all too easy to say I WANT to be a writer. It's a whole different story to say you ARE one. I haven't been published (my high school paper and this blog notwithstanding). No byline, no job experiences in any writing field. But I have ideas, and stories to tell, a point of view that is my own. I just have to tell them. Some days it is so clear to me what I want to do, I honestly cannot imagine myself in another profession. But others remain a little more hazy. Recently, it's the hazy days that outweigh the clear ones. Trust me, I'm working on that. As for right now though, as I type this in my childhood bedroom, parents snoozing mere feet away from me, I can say two things for sure: I am 26, and I'm doing my best. That's all there is. 

* * * 

On Wednesday morning I'm leaving on a whirlwind road trip with my oldest friend. Not actually oldest, I've just known her the longest. In middle school we had an inside joke about Strawberry Milk, and those weird ads that had the pink cows. I don't know, we laugh so much together. We've cried so much together. She's moving to Illinois, for the second time. It's what she wants to do, so she's doing it. She's a rockstar. I'm can already picture our sun chapped faces, the windows rolled down, Mid-Western air gushing through the car, Pandora on full blast, her dog Cooper lounging in the back seat. I've never done a road trip before, and it's kind of exciting when you think about the romantic idea of road trips and coming of age, and being in your mid twenties and going somewhere you've never been. You might even say it's something to write about. Stay tuned...