I’m getting ready to enter California on my run south, the usual mission as fall works its way down the Northern Hemisphere. As I was looking at routes it reminded me of how varied the landscape is in America’s most populous state. From the Great Redwoods to the Mojave desert, from the snowy Donner Pass to the arid central valley, from foggy San Francisco to the sandy coastlines of San Diego, California has a seriously diverse landscape.
Even the deserts go from sand dunes to chaparral to the otherworldly climate of Death Valley. However, the shape of the state means you have to do a lot of zig-zagging, as the climate has as much to do with mountain ranges blocking the coastal weather as it does with latitude lines.
The idea of finding a new and novel way to get through my home state had me realizing how much of it I’ve seen, which then got me thinking to the US in general. I have a lot of different countries I want to ride but the terrain in North America is so varied I still keep finding places I want to go, and I’ve barely even scratched the borderlands of Mexico and Canada.
But just in 2024, as I look through my photos, I’m surprised at how much I’ve seen. While there are specific places like museums or national parks that come to mind, what I really noticed was the varied terrains I traveled. I was supposed to go to Newfoundland originally, but plans changed and changed again.
I worked through Arizona, seeing the low mountains and sagebrush of Tombstone give way to the evergreen mountains of the Apache National Forest before things browned out again in the Navajo Nation. The varied red rocks and mountains of Utah shared space with me as I met up with the Veterans Charity Ride and their 10-year celebration in Park City, Utah.
From there I was working my way east, which put me through the high ranges of Colorado, trading 100°F for sleeting rain. Down out of the mountains came the plains of Kansas and the fields of Missouri before meeting up with the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. I never did make it into the Blue Ridge Mountains but I was able to explore the foothills around Lexington, Kentucky.
Being redirected to the west coast I decided I’d head to Michigan and work my way across to Vancouver Island. I was able to see a lot of Dayton, Ohio, which is full of aviation history. Continuing north I did make it through the southern half of Michigan, but an abscessed tooth turned me south for a torturous freeway trip straight to Mexico. Yes, it is cheaper to drive from Michigan to Mexico and get dental treatment than to have it done in the US. You can fly round trip and it’s still cheaper.
But now back in Southern Arizona I had another slog on the interstate, 1,800-mi north to Vancouver Island. I made it by knocking out 500-600mi days back-to-back. That meant plenty of desert through Nevada and the lower parts of Idaho. The parts of Oregon and Washington would have been great if I wasn’t in a hurry — the interstate follows the Oregon Trail after all. But no, I had places to be.
Vancouver Island was not amazingly varied, but it featured plenty of low mountains and lakes and — of course — a huge amount of forest. Canadian people were interesting and easy to talk to, so I enjoyed the small towns as much as any of the natural wonder, but still made sure to see plenty of coastline and forested campgrounds.
Back on the mainland I worked my way north to Prince George and was happy that things varied enough to not get too boring. Coastline gave way to mountains, then desert, then into thick forest which got a bit marshy at times. The run back south though was all rain and thick forest: beautiful for an hour, but an 8-hr ride with cold and wet is too much.
After Kamloops the road followed rivers and cut between large mountains and then offered the chaos of that wind storm and all the fallen trees. Nearing the border things did change a lot since I was moving south and then west. That meant mountains gave way to river valleys and then rolling hills and the beginnings of dry grasslands.
More rivers led to more cultivated fields but plenty of endless brown prairie. Once I met up with the Columbia River it was endless views, with mountains on both banks and plenty of towns that grew up because of the Oregon Trail and the river’s influence on commerce. Old towns, old roads, but then the march into Portland.
All major cities have their own special qualities, but I am the wrong person to comment on them You need to spend time learning their nuances, their history, their buildings and bridges, districts and parks. That requires a lot of time, money, and tolerance for crowds. While I have one of the three, I don’t want to use my time in that way.
But I wanted to at least share these different landscapes, as it has surprised me to look back and realize how much I’ve seen. This year has felt like an endless commute more than a trip, due to the need to get back to Mexico and then up to Vancouver Island in such a hurry; about half the miles I rode were just getting somewhere and not enjoying the ride.
California will allow me some zig-zagging, so I know I’ll have more to share in the last thrust as I head south to hole up for the winter somewhere. I look forward to it, though I’m still in a vague place mentally, where I don’t seem to derive much pleasure from anything: not the road, not hiking, not seeing and learning from historical places, so why would I find pleasure in sitting still all winter, staring at the same ceiling?
We’ll see though. I have learned from each season, and I continue to improve the little things that can grind away on a person in such a wide-open world. The search for meaning and purpose is still a burden, but we need a burden to push against in order to grow.
Johnny Killmore 