In the Wild, Wild West
Last spring, I had the good fortune to retrace the steps of the Donner Party. This post is part of the story of my journey. If you want to begin at the beginning, go here first. Big thanks to the Indiana Arts Council for helping to make this happen.
The Graves family crossed the river at St. Joseph and entered the wild, wild West.
And so did we!
We drove through Iowa! And Nebraska!
Where, almost immediately I saw this on the side of the road and had to swerve over for a photo:
I don’t even…I just…I mean…Wow.
Eastern Nebraska looked a lot like this:
Which is to say, gorgeous skies, beautiful fields, flat, flat, flat. I could look out and imagine this was an easier part of the journey for them. Fast paced. Plenty of food for their livestock.
It was here that we first encountered Wind.
I’m from Appalachia. Not the highest mountains in the world, but enough of them that we don’t ever see this much sky at a time. And enough of them that we never feel this much wind.
It was intense, driving through it at times. What did it feel like walking? What did she think when she first saw a horizon like this? One where you could look out far enough and swear you could see the earth curve?
I don’t know what she felt. I can tell you how I felt. I felt like I was about to fall. Like there was nothing holding me to the earth and that if gravity stopped working, I’d be toast. Everything out west would be.
Anyway.
As we entered western Nebraska, the landscape began to change.
We turned off the interstate and drove down some tiny little highways and I texted my sister the following:
OMG I’m legit in the west now.
Actual cowboys in the field.
Horse poop ON the highway in the center of town.
Sign that says “Bingo & Pickles.”
Needless to say, I was super excited at this point. The husband was about to get out and walk, just to get away from me. I might have insisted on a “Legit West Playlist.”*
Everything was vibrant and gentle and lush. I was driving on roads that intersected with dirt roads. It was even more exciting to crest a hill and see Chimney Rock off in the distance.
Come back to the blog tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it.
*4 songs from the playlist that I made up on the spot and made the husband play while I was driving:
“Go West, Young Man!” was what I yelled every time we got ready to get back onto the interstate.
The kids were annoyed.
For the next post in this series, go here.