The story begins like this: I'm milling around a bar with my friends, somewhere in France, and we strike up a conversation with some Europeans - this was a couple of years ago, so I can't be too much more specific. They figure out (without much difficulty) that we are American, and I debate whether to milk it with a big smile and a loud mouth or to turn my stereotype on its head with a sly smile and a direct, witty response. Both are equally appealing to me, usually. As I play around with my mutable identity, a luxury of travel, my friends pick up the conversation and carry it off.
I tune back in as our new acquaintances mention firsthand knowledge of America, and my friends politely ask where they have visited. What was really memorable about this conversation, despite the fuzzy context, is this: our European counterparts, who can't be too much older than us, have visited several dozen American states between them. When they redirect the question at us, wondering how often and how in depth we explore our own country, I start to feel ashamed. I can count the number of states that I have seen on two hands (I might have only driven through of some of them, making it worse). Nearly all of these states are in the northeast, where I was born and raised. I had never driven further west than Pittsburgh (although I had flown to San Francisco in 2004 and Los Angeles in 2009), and rarely traveled further south than Washington, DC (except for the Outer Banks and Disney World). A cross-country road trip appeared rather suddenly on the top of my bucket list.**
To me, and to a lot of people, really, the great American road trip is an east-west trek from one coast to another. Since Lewis and Clark's expedition to the Pacific aided by Sacagawea, the great journey has been west. Think prospectors, manifest destiny, the Oregon Trail, the Transcontinental Railroad, "California or bust!" The idea of heading west is adventurous but also purposeful; it is how our nation grew and part of our American identity.
The north-south trek is less commonly made, because I mean - who really needs to get from Canada to Mexico? Unless you're running from the law, or something. If you want a meaningful reason to travel north to south, however, maybe you should ask a hiker. The triple crown of American hiking is the Pacific Trail, the Appalachian Trail, and the toughest of all: the Great Divide. The line of the Great, or Continental, Divide runs along the spine of the Rocky Mountains. All water that falls on the east of the Divide flows to the Atlantic Ocean, while water falling on the west flows to the Pacific.
Inspired by my father's desire to road trip to the West on his 50th birthday to see the deserts and mountain ranges of America for the first time, a trip was planned along this imaginary north-south line. In less than a week, I'll be embarking on a 9 day road trip through Big Sky and Cowboy Country with my father, sister, and twin brothers. On our agenda:
Bozeman, Montana
Yellowstone National Park
Thermopolis, Wyoming
Fort Collins, Colorado
Boulder, Colorado
Moab, Utah
Grand Canyon National Park
Flagstaff, Arizona
So stay tuned for updates from the road, or please do comment if you have suggestions or ideas to make this once-in-a-lifetime trip extraordinary.
WESTWARD HO!
**After returning from France in May, I had lined up a road trip to Colorado by August. I drove from Philadelphia to Boulder with a friend of mine. A post for another time.
