Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Dear Stony Run
The day dawned, gray and unremarkable. As I had a pair of seats to myself, I had slept off and on through much of the night, including Salt Lake City, and light began to filter through the windows and into my brain at Green River. I sat up and took notice of my surroundings, as I'd often gone east or west from Green River, but this was southeast, into Colorado.
The desert gave way to agriculture, the agriculture gave way to canyons, and we were traveling along the Colorado River, with many red cliffs that remimded me of the Grand Canyon, which I'd seen some thirty-five years before. At the foot of one of the mighty buttes, a bright red rib cage -- deer? -- it had been picked pretty clean -- flashed by, brilliant against the snow.
The Rockies are what they are, but on the whole I'm confirmed in my preference for the Cascades. Despite the distractions of huge mountains in all directions I managed to finished the chapter I began yesterday -- maybe will proof it tomorrow.
At Glenwood Springs there were many new passengers to accomodate, so I made the acquaintance of a lady on her way to Chicago, and we talked -- she's lost her dad, still has her mom -- and slept sitting up -- all the way through Denver. In the night, at Lincoln, Nebraska, the train thinned out a little and she was able to get a two-seat bedroom for herself and I lay down with my pillow and slept into Omaha.
It's not yet dawn. Just now I felt the train slow down and the air around my window grow clammy, and on a hunch I sat up and peered into the darkness -- yes, the mighty Missouri. So I suppose I have truly Gone East.
Love to all,