Recently, I wrote about returning home to Michigan, to Bay City, where our historic home awaited us, strong and majestic. I had a similar experience the week before last, after returning from the Southwest where friends were married in a small town on the western slope of the Rockies that gave us a breathtaking view of the San Juan Mountains.
I drove out there with my husband, taking three days to traverse the full 1575 miles, stopping at various antique malls along the way.
Just past Chicago, we decided to be done with I-80 and the high traffic and perpetual construction. We headed south and took up I-70, avoiding Iowa altogether, though I would have liked to have seen Des Moines. Although the trip took no longer, I-70 is a much more meandering highway. And picturesque at times.
Traveling across Missouri, we passed cornfields along Highway 36, imagining farmers, highway workers, and homemakers quietly crafting poetry, stories, and memoirs.
Kansas was not as flat as I remembered, clouded and slightly chilly, with sunflowers still to come. We bypassed Kansas City to reach the Lawrence Antique Mall, grateful for coffee, a scone, and a chance to stretch our legs. Hours later, the landscape in western Kansas turned quiet, with few cars and hardly a billboard in sight, a welcome reprieve from Michigan’s cluttered expressways – the main arteries I-75, I-96 and I-94 – always over peppered with advertisements for lawyers, banks and credit unions, restaurants and, ironically, PSA warnings about distracted driving.
Traveling through the plains into Colorado via secondary highways, the land grew even more quiet, desolate even. Hours passed without seeing a single house or even a gas station, only vacant buildings, and endless stretches of road. A yard sale outside La Junta offered a brief glimpse of life amid the flat, rainy, cold expanse, dotted with spiky cactus, scattered bushes, and grazing cows. The first town we reached had three antique shops and a dollar store—a humble marker of life in the middle of vast openness. Past the flatlands, we ascended into pine-forested mountains, and the dramatic shift in the landscape was astonishing and suddenly alive with traffic and energy. Pecos sunflowers dotted the roadside, vibrant yellow against the blue skies.
We reached our destination with a mixture of gratitude and disappointment – grateful that the long drive was over, and disappointed that the vistas were behind us. The trip home was less dramatic, eager as we were to get back. So much of our perception is affected by our mood: the excitement of Colorado piqued our attention, while the ride home was a long slog.
It took us a couple of days to return to our Midwestern ways. The Southwest still lingered on our minds until we drove out to the Manistee National Forest in the northwest quadrant of the lower peninsula where you could see the leaves start to change colors as you curve around a bend, or watch the “ribbon of highway” rise in waves before you, three, four, five miles ahead, hemmed in by hardwoods and pines.
In the next few weeks, Autumn will be in full swing. If you are a Midwesterner, you’ll be heading out to view the leaves at their peak. Here in Michigan, we will head “up north” or over to the west side of the state where the trees are still thick along Lake Michigan.
We’d love to hear about your favorite fall drives, parks, or scenic outlooks. Drop us a line or catch up with us on Facebook. If you have an Autumn story to tell, our submission window is open until October 31. We hope you will share with us.
~ Maryann
