The first stop on the agenda is (was) my hometown: Vancouver. I've driven this stretch of I-5 more times than I can count and it is abysmal driving. No matter what kind of weather or day or time... it's traffic-ridden and gross.
This road trip is not supposed to be about traffic-ridden-gross-ness. This road trip is supposed to be about discovery and whimsy and beauty and air. Therefore, I determined I would forsake I-5 in all its trafficky squalor and take the 101-- the scenic route. The long way.
It turned out to be the right choice. 101 was lined with wildflowers, and coastal views, and rustic buildings, and gorgeous sights.
I kept pulling off the main highway so that I could follow skinny little roads until they ended, which was delicious.
And there were wildflowers EVERYWHERE-- they were so beautiful! In fact today I went to Home Depot to buy wildflower seed packets, so that I can scatter them from my window as I drive.
This all prompted a thought. I am about to be honest now-- prepare thyself.
When I tell people I am going on a road trip by myself, they typically exhibit one of two facial expressions-- or both, if they're especially talented and adequately free of botox. The first implies: "Oh wow-- that's so sad." The second: "Oh wow-- that's bad a**."
It's a little of both, I suppose. One of the reasons I'm going on a big solo road trip is to process through a recent break-up-- a hard break-up. The fact that I'm alone on a road trip-- so often a duo-endeavor-- reinforces the fact, I suppose, that I am not with this person. It further reinforces the fact, in a season of countless weddings, engagement parties, and bridal showers, that I don't have a person I could have invited to come along with me. At least, not one that I'd be ready to share this type of trip with, in all its intimate soul searching. This is the "that's so sad" part.
However, the second part is also true. I think a solo road trip is pretty bad-a**. I like adventures. Furthermore, I will pat myself on the back in this moment and say: I'm good at adventuring. I have played my guitar in London markets. I have danced on Irish moors, and found the literal end of the rainbow. I have climbed to the tops of Mayan ruins in a Belizean jungle, and snorkeled with schools of manta rays. I think I got to a point right around 21 where I concluded, "Well-- so long as I'm still single, I better make the most of my independence." That has resulted in countless, FANTASTIC adventures.
The pictures above are evidence of me seeing the world through my own eyes-- they're evidence of a self that is free to pull over exactly when she wants to, and take pictures of exactly what she finds remarkable. I'm adventuring by myself, and bottling up my own ideas of beauty-- and I think that's both brave (bad-a**, if you will)-- and exhilarating.
Some people don't take the long way. My older brother and younger sister both found their life-loves at a young age; Shane is only a year and a half older than me, but already has a 4-year-old and an almost-2-year-old. He took a "quicker" way than I did--- and I can't begin to describe how beautiful my niece and nephew are. The manifestations of Shane's "way" are breath-taking. Likewise, to see my sister Heidi and her husband make their way together-- it is an incredible, inspiring way to watch.
But that's not the way I'm taking.
I'm taking the long way.
And after passing wildflowers, ocean, and glorious views... I'm beginning to realize that that's the only way someone like me should take.
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