Joining the Corps of Discovery

Last week Dave and I travelled to Pullman, Washington to visit our son, Andy, who is a visiting professor in the political science department at Washington State University.  In my mind’s eye, I have always envisioned Washington as a lush place with thick forests of green surrounded by green fields so you can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself in a land of rolling fields as far as the eye could see; almost like land locked dunes, with sparse groups of evergreens, few and far between.  In fact, the only place I’ve been where I’ve experienced this vastness of nothingness was when we drove through the southernmost lava fields on the Big Island in Hawaii.  The major difference between the two places was that while the lava field were barren, the fields in Washington were merely sleeping.  As we drove south from Spokane to Pullman on US 195, the first fields we saw were freshly turned, dark and damp but as we continued, where the fields had been tilled earlier, a faint tinge of green covered the land.  And yet further south, the green became more vibrant.  There were very few signs of human life along the eighty some miles to Pullman.  Occasionally we would see a farm tucked in the hollow where the hills met but mostly there was only the evidence that men had been there, not that they’d stayed.  I almost expected to see herds of buffalo along the way.

And it was windy!  The little Nissan Versa we’d leased was put to the test as Dave drove through the cross wind.  With nothing to slow its progress, the gusts shook and rocked us; not the best of conditions to be driving in a strange place at the end of a long day of air travel.

We only drove through one real town between Spokane and Pullman; a good-sized place called Colfax.  As we passed down the main street, I noticed the Washington State road signs with the route numbers displayed within silhouettes of George Washington.  My jet lagged brain wondered how this place came to be named after the father of our country.  We were a long way from Virginia and this place seemed so much younger than the Old Dominion.  Almost immediately I answered my own question – of course, this was the land first explored by Lewis and Clark with their Corps of Discovery!  I’d even seen some of the treasures sent back from the expedition on display at Monticello.

I felt an instant kinship with Meriwether Lewis and William Clark.  After all, I live just miles from where Lewis was born and Thomas Jefferson, who was President at the time they set out to explore the new land and like them, I’d begun my journey in Virginia.  The major difference between our trips was that it only took me about twelve hours to reach my destination while it took Lewis and Clark more than a year.

Sure, compared to the Corps of Discovery, my journey was easy but the breath-taking panoramas were certainly something we shared.  While we were on the “Palouse”, the name given to this fertile region that stretches from WallaWalla into Idaho, we had a warm sunny morning to take a hike up to the top of the Kamiak Butte, a rise of almost a thousand feet above the fields.  The views from up there were outstanding.  I’m not sure how far we could see, but it was far.  Not long after reaching the top, the clouds began to roll in across the plains and soon it was snowing.  (Again with the snow. Really?)

As we headed down the path I spotted a tiny sign of spring; a tiny buttercup peaking from the leaves and pine needles.

My trip to southeastern Washington was an experience that I will remember and revisit for a long time.  When we moved to Ruckersville almost three years ago, it seemed like we were moving to a place that was vast and uninhabited; the population seemed so sparse compared to Virginia Beach.  All three places do have one thing in common that I find necessary for survival; a glimpse of the eternal.  The Virginia shoreline which leads your eye from the beach over the ocean to the horizon, the Blue Ridge Mountains that lead you to the sky, and the Palouse leading across the plains; all remind me of my place in this world.  I am just a small part of something so much greater than myself.  My hope and challenge is to be that little buttercup along the path, a bright spot providing hope and a smile to those who come across me on their path.