I skipped over Nevada on this trip, staying south of it until I reached California and then heading north, and only north, for months. Two of the books I’ve read that tell tales of journeys spent time in Nevada, though, so I’ve gotten to know it, to some degree, from a third-hand perspective.
I’m nearing the end of my journey. I’ve decided not to try and make it out of the Pacific Northwest for the next month, instead spending that time bouncing around between Seattle and Portland and Eugene. I can think of worse ways to spend my time. Then, just over a month from now, I’ll pile into a car with four other women and I’ll complete the circle of North America that I started last August, before I knew that my route would resemble a circle. (It seems appropriate that it did, especially as I started reading Blue Highways—the book after which this blog was named in part—again the other day. William Least Heat Moon traveled in a circle, and he writes this of his route: “Following a circle would give a purpose—to come round again—where taking a straight line would not.”)
It’s hard to believe I’ve been at this so long. But at the same time, I feel like I’ve been drifting forever. I’ve had a great time, and will continue to do so for the next month–with a number of posts still to write, I’m not closing down the blog just yet–but despite the fact that I specifically set out without any goals so that I couldn’t fail, I feel like some hopes that I wasn’t admitting I had haven’t come to pass.
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