living on the road my friend

 farmland out west of Driggs, Idaho headed toward Ashton, Idaho.

As the late, great Townes Van Zandt said

"Living on the road my friend
was gonna keep you free and clean."

 Ashton, Idaho

The key word in that lyric: "was" lends itself to a realization I had while leaving Pinedale, Wyoming, no matter how far you look ahead, no matter how fast you pack, how many goodbyes you attempt, or how fast you travel the highway, you can't outrun the way really things are.

I was so worked up from the fast goodbyes, the breakup, and undeniable urge that I needed to leave Pinedale a week earlier than I had planned, that I didn't stop to set up a place to stay with friends.  I had made plans to spend a day or two in Salmon the following week with a friend, Cody, who is on the Salmon, Idaho, Hot Shot crew.  I called and couldn't reach him, as he was on a fire out near Stanley, Idaho, so I chose to head north--Bozeman, Montana.  I called up Eliza and hit the road toward my night's destination.

 Ennis, Montana afternoon storm

I had a lot of time to think on the trip to Bozeman, a lot of time in my head.  The windows rolled down, wind whipping my hair, and an afternoon storm hammering Island Park, Idaho, all the way up to Montana's Madison Valley.  The storm felt appropriate for those particular thoughts in my head and the act of leaving a special place, the ending of three months of experiences and relationships, and many more things that seemed all to reside back there.

 Ennis, Montana afternoon storm

I dropped into the lower Madison Valley outside of Ennis, exiting through the north end of the storm, not having outrun anything, but rather able to see things more clearly.  I was far enough ahead to see the landscape unfolding, vast rangelands and the sun lighting the clouds into a deep amber hue. 


I saw that the highway cannot isolate me from the way things are, it's not my home, as much as it may feel that way sometimes, it's just the place I wind up; it's a place of limbo in this instance, on either end of the linear journey lie those things past and future: waiting for you. 

geese on the wing, Ennis, Montana

Placing abstract expectations upon the road, hoping it would put more than just physical distance between me and the past was a wrong assumption...I need to face those things head on, not try and leave them in the dust--once this is done I know I will come out on the other side a stronger and better person for it.