Feeling of Place

It's wierd, the feeling of place here.

What brings this up is that I was watching some of Macklemore's videos on youtube. I noticed how much of affinity he has for the northwest, and specifically Seattle.

As I explore this area, I am really quite confused. The lifestyles (or what I have seen so far) do not come from the dichotomy I have seen up to this point in my life, and the dichotomy I studied in college.

When I was at Wilson I studied manufactured identity versus placelesness. It was either: people manufactured their place and their identity with that place (or a few of places), or they saw themselves as being with no place, therefore having no affinity with one (or a couple of) particular place(s).

Yet here, it seems like Vancouver does not inherit either of those sides. Don't get me wrong. I am not talking about Portland here. Too many people seem to lump that in with Vancouver. What I am saying is that what I have seen from Vancouver is a strange third way of creating an identity.

I have always been a fan of the multiple dynamic idea of things. My very thesis was rooted in proving through historical evidence that culture is ever changing, and is never standing still. So there is always another way to think about these things.

I went to a free (yet sadly short)  concert yesterday in the city center portion of Vancouver. As I sat there listening, I observed the people around me. There was about equal parts young, middle aged, and old, a dynamic that I had never really been in. Their clothes and conversation seemed to be revolving around their lives and the band. There were no essentric outfits, rarely any plaid (contrary to stereotypes) and the conversations seemed to revolve around the labor day weekend, their upcoming school projects, and the many different outings coming up for fun before autumn and winter settle in. The people did not seem like they were hiding in the shadows lightly mingling with others, placeless in a space full of well identified people. Nor were they pushing thier identities on each others trying to win a "my identity is better than yours" contest. They just seemed to be relaxing vancouverites, enjoying their city.

This is in comparison to the well manufactured and defendent southern identity I have lived with in the North Carolina mountains, nor was it the free roaming spirits I have seen from the heartland identity, who just want to get the hell out of dodge and pick up what ever identity they can along the way. This was a different type of identity, one well rooted in city and neighborhood, not regionalism or nationalism.

Maybe it is because of their young history and their hodgepodge of migrants. One thing we in the east tend to forget is that a lot of towns out west were established after the Civil War, and many not even incorporated until the early 20th century! This collection of differences has maybe not given the region time to settle and establish an idenity, and the cities and towns were not laid out in such a fashion to create drifters and brain drain.

Or maybe it is just people being themselves and being, dare I say it, authentic? (If that can even hold ground because of its subjectivity.)

The River Road of the Gods

The rolling massive hills make way to a huge valley, flat as the eye can see. The flat dusty desert boils in the car, and the windshield dusts up unknowingly. I wonder when this heat will end, and much to my disappointment it will not for a long while.

The road after leaving from Logan, Utah.

I have never been in a desert before. I would consider this a desert?

The plain seemed to extend forever, through wetlands, over shrub laden slopes. All of a sudden, I am in Idaho, the air hazy from the smoke from the Beaver Creek fire, and then I drive beside a huge canyon/gorge. I have read about it in books before, but it simply blows me a way. It is the Snake River, and it cuts a sheer wall from the plain above:

The Snake River gorge. I tried to take more pictures, but I couldn't get my phone to work very well.

The most impressive point of the Snake River is the fact the river has cut such a deep gorge across such a flat landscape. It is so stunning when it is flat across the horizon with this huge gash in the earth.






After visiting the Snake River and Shoshone Falls, I continued across the landscape, determined to reach Western Washington by the end of the day. The Western Idaho and Eastern Oregon desert were relentless, and so... empty. Except for the occasional irrigation of the land and small town, the landscape seemed so lifeless:

Lots of shots of the desert.

One of the more awe inspiring mountains was a relatively low range that I wound through, and climbed up. After stopping at the top for a rest area, I began to descend, and had a huge panorama of the valley below.

It just seemed that it went on forever and a half.

I really liked this shot of the clouds.







And then the Columbia River finally made its appearance. At first I thought it was a lake, another cool work of hydroelectricity from the 1940s. Was I ever wrong.

Now keep in mind, the Columbia River makes up most of the border between Washington and Oregon, so once I was on the river, I stayed on the river.

And then the sides began to become narrower, and steeper. One of the best sights I saw was windmills that lined the gorge.






Then I saw Mt. Hood. It was a massive peak, poking its head above the clouds... Until I saw those were not clouds, but were actually a wildfire burning on the bottom section of the mountain. I have never seen a wildfire this large before.

The smoke was streaming to the south, and it drifted into the distance. It seemed not too far away, but for the scale of these things, the mountain was a good 30 miles away.

Now I am in Vancouver, after running around and finding my apartment, I have finally unpacked, and working on getting ready for my first day of work tomorrow. I need to do more errands today and run around, but hopefully I can see some of the community today. More later, once my assignment starts.

We're Half Way To Being Giants

Imagine twisting and turning on a road, much like a dragons tail. It curves and winds so much at the beginning, but soon it leads to the body, a clearing, surrounded by the sky above it, and the ground below it.

Estes Park is a touristy town, where I stayed the night with a good friend of mine. The entrance was a tight compact river canyon, with sheer walls on either side. It slowly lead into more and more space, and then the town.

               

The climb up the mountains stressed on my engine. I noticed my thermostat went from 1/4 to 1/2. I parked, and let it cool, and I went to enjoy a pizza and a beer. I woke up the next morning:

I made my way to breakfast, said goodbye, than embarked on an adventure into the Rocky Mountains National Park:

The visitor center was nice and welcoming, but it is what happened after the gates that left me breathless, and not just because of the altitude.

The car cranked up the mountain, and I simply had to stop because I had never seen anything like this in my life.

I stopped to take some more vista shots. This curve is called Rainbow Curve.

I stopped to take a picture of my car also. I think I should make a blog for it. Also, this looks like a picture for an advertisement or something.

I finally made it above the treeline. The point at which it is too cold and rocky for trees to survive. I couldn't stop thinking about the alpine ecosystem and the landscape in general.

I have tried to include smaller shots so it doesn't clog all of your bandwidth when you try to load this article.

Fun Fact of the Blog Post: Did you know that this road is the highest continuous paved road in the United States? I couldn't remember if she said North America or not, but I wouldn't doubt it.

Towards the top it kind of reminded me of Northeastern Colorado, except for the fact I was 11,000 feet above sea level. That amounts to about two miles folks.

This picture is of the road leading up to the Alpine Visitor Center, which is probably the highest Visitor Center elevation in the United States.

Finally it was time to leave and travel back into the valley. The drive down was magnificant, and provided this view of the Never Summer Mountains. Yup. They don't really experience summer.

After leaving the park, I made my way onto the dusty West Colorado plain, and into Wyoming. This I would consider to be a desert.

It literally went on forever.

And ever.

And ever.

I finally made it into Wyoming by now, and it was a lot of the same.

But then I got into the Western parts of Wyoming, and found some really cool buttes.

And cliffs.

Among pulling into Utah, I began hauling up more mountains. This time they had huge valleys in between them. I even found a lake, which was left over from when there was an inland sea here.

The lake (Bear Lake) has been isolated so long from any other water sources that four unique fish have developed that are found no where else in the nation, or world.

Now I am here in Logan, Utah, preparing for my final trek to Washington tomorrow. It is going to be a long haul, 10 hours in total, but I am sure I can do it. I'm going to leave nice and early so that I can have enough time to stop if I want to. I cross more desert tomorrow, and finally into the Cascades.

Looking back on today, I can see why people call this place "God's Country". It really gives the feeling of inspiration and awe. A feeling that only a higher power could have created these land masses and that it seems like tectonic plates don't cut it. The colors, the ecosystems, the vast space of it all. It really gives perspective on how large this country actually is. And how much of it I have yet to explore. I am really sad that I only get to see the Rockies for one day on this trip, but I so hope to come back someday. The grand scale of it all is just too hard to put into pictures.