The final total on the motorcycle’s odometer — 2,313 miles.
Most of those miles were ticked off covering the great expanses of Nevada and Utah. I just returned to Redding after spending two weeks on the road.
My destination was Western Colorado, where I visited my Aunt Margaret, who succumbed to cancer yesterday (the day I arrived back here). The legacy of this warm, beautiful, intelligent woman lives on in her three children, three grandchildren and one great grandchild.
The words I would use to describe Uncle Phil, and my cousins Ruth, Carolyn and Phillip are: artistically gifted, deep thinking, grounded, wickedly funny, genuine and kind. They are all a refection of her. They were all with her as she passed.
I was able to spend time with most of them, as well as my sister and father at a time that echoed the experience of my own mother’s passing about a year and a half ago.
There was an irony to this trip. I’d long wanted to cover these states by motorcycle and to camp in national parks and other beautiful places. I envisioned this “total freedom” kind of experience. The trip turned out to be a more reflective time. The canyons and desert weren’t so much in the forefront, as they were a backdrop for something happening internally. Such is life — often it’s not what you expect it to be.
There’s a place called Castle Valley (near Moab, Utah), which was spectacular to ride through on Sunday. Huge red rock walls surround massive towers and spires. On this morning, storm systems hung over various portions of the valley, including the 13,000-foot La Sal Mountains off to the south. The light was refracted in many ways, and the valley just looked mythical — almost like a sci-fi vision of a planet too fantastical to be earth.
Photographers take a lot of pictures to get that one shot. Castle Valley at that moment was perhaps the snapshot I had in my head for such an adventure.
However, the real purpose of my trip was about reconnecting with family.
There have been a lot of words about death and our connections to loved ones on this site as of late. Though we may often try to suppress thoughts of it, death is a natural part of life.
Amid news about recessions and bank collapses and plummeting retirement funds, a trip like this reminded me that the most important commodities in our lives are our connections with others.
After more than 2,000 miles of asphalt and wind, that lesson began to sink in. Maybe the trip was even more than I ever expected it to be.
