CALIFORNIA DRIVING

MONDAY

On Sunday morning, I went to church with Joe and Nancy, Mother’s long-time friends.  I’ve been there before but this morning I was surprised to hear “It Is Well With My Soul” as the prelude.  For me, this particular piece has a history of showing up at interesting times, times of personal transition, during the last twenty-four years.  The initial time was the first Sunday my children and I attended church in Waynesville, NC –  when I was newly divorced and we were creating a new life in NC.  There have been other times in between, but it was especially appropriate today – two days after Mother and I concluded our travels together and I have set out on my own.  I know I am fine; the hymn was a nice reminder. 

I left Grants Pass, Oregon this morning heading for Penn Valley, California where my brother lives.  I am surrounded by mountains on all sides, but the terrain looks more like central Oregon; there are lots of trees, but there are bare spaces here and there.  The day is clear and sunny, though a little hazy.

I stop in Medford to get a Dutch Bros. mocha frappuccino.  Dutch Bros. is a company that started in Grants Pass and has drive-up units in many locations in Oregon and Northern California.  I don’t usually have mocha frappuccino at this hour of the morning, it’s usually my afternoon or evening treat, but I am afraid I am running out of opportunities to have one of theirs.  It’s not as coffee-flavored as Starbucks and is a little sweeter.  But why not have a mocha at 10:30 in the morning?  You have to do these things when you can.

Mother’s not traveling with me now.  I left her in Salem so she’s not been with me since Thursday. It’s not that I really had her presence with me before, although I knew her ashes were in my car.  But the purpose of the trip is complete – I did it, I didn’t forget her in Kingsport and then realize when I got to Minnesota that “oops, I forgot Mother.”  I did everything I was supposed to do.  Now it’s seems very odd to be heading towards home.  I still have three or four thousand miles to go but I am on the home stretch.  I’m not headed east yet, because I’m heading south to California first.  Once I leave Yosemite on Thursday, I will be eastbound.  By the time I get to Arizona I will definitely be heading in the home direction and I’m not sure I want to go there yet.  The trip is going way too quickly and it’s going to be over too soon for me. I’m not liking that too much.

I’ve found that two days with people is about right, particularly when I am visiting with Mother’s friends.  It gives us time to share the stories and get caught up on the last times of her life and other times folks want to share, but then I’m ready to move on, ready for a little space.  The interesting thing is that it’s Mother who is the reason for these relationships.  It’s not me. These were always her relationships.  But I am the one, in recent years, who made sure Mother got to see her friends.  But it was always clear when I had talked too much and taken up too much time with her friends.  I learned to be present, but not intrusive in her space. So, I’m tying up some loose ends and perhaps doing some closure with them.  I don’t know how it feels for them, but I know how it is for me and I think Mother would have wanted me to do this.  I didn’t exactly set out to do the trip this way but it's how it’s worked out. However, I have felt a sense of responsibility to Mother to take care of these details.

The trip is actually happening on several levels.  On the one hand I am following my itinerary, going exactly where I said I was going to go and doing what I said I was going to do.  The conversations with people sometimes take a turn that none of us anticipated but it’s always good.  We’ve laughed and carried on and shared table with each other. So there’s the level of taking Mother home and then visiting her friends and her relatives.  Because her destination was Oregon I could easily arrange to see anyone and everyone on the way.  I’ve left her now. Our paths have separated in a new way and my voice catches in my throat as I record my thoughts.

As I cross into California the mountains are getting better.  I just saw a sign that says all vehicles must stop for inspection.  This has to do with agricultural products that are not permitted to be brought into the State of California.  It feels like crossing the border into another country. When I get to the inspection station the agent asks, “Do you have any fresh fruit?”  When I say no she waves me on.

My first view of Mount Shasta is fabulous.  The sign says the elevation is 14,162 feet.  The roadway is at 2,660 feet.   The snow is mostly on the top.  The last time I was here in June 2010, the entire mountain was covered with snow. There’s a lot of haze along the base of the mountain, but the sky is clear so the entire mountain is visible.

Mt. Shasta

Mt. Shasta

A little ways down the road I am heading straight towards the foot of Mount Shasta. The mountain fills the horizon and my windshield.  The snow is on the top third of the mountain on the east slopes.  It’s just beautiful.

When I cross Shasta Lake, the water is bright blue, but the water level is obviously low.  Along the shore, a lot of dirt banks are visible below the grass and tree line. Besides the lake and Mount Shasta there are lots of other peaks in the area and evergreens are the dominant trees here.

After Mount Shasta, the rest of northern California is rolling hills and mostly deciduous trees.  The grasslands are totally dry due to drought.  I’m on a two-lane road and passing lots of orchards along the way. After miles of orchards I am driving across a plateau of harvested fields.  Rolling hills are off to the east, and I keep thinking there ought to be a river, like the Columbia, at the base of the hills, just like there is in Washington. I know there’s no river over there, but I keep looking.

On the way to Grass Valley I pass rows of elevators.  In one location there were 28 elevators:  four rows with seven elevators each.  It is pretty cool. The surrounding fields are yellow green, but not dry.  They’ve been harvested and are obviously beginning their next growth.

The drive was good today – especially because my destination is Bill’s house and visiting with him and Carolyn for tonight and tomorrow.

Lake Wildwood from Bill & Carolyn's home