The blog has returned!

This, of course, because I am back on the road after five exhausting days in Seattle that went by way too fast. I didn't get to explore that city a fraction of what I would've liked, but I had an amazing time at TI3. Long story short, the team I work for did very well, and the finals ended on one of the best games ever played. Tons of fun.

After packing up and saying goodbye to everyone, (perhaps I won't see some of the same folks again for another year, even though we talk all the time online) I bundled into the car and headed East on I90. It's almost a straight shot across the country, passing through the rest of Washington, the Idaho panhandle, and the full lengths of Montana and North Dakota before returning to sweet, sweet Minnesota. With the anticipation and excitement of visiting neat cities and going to a one in a year event having worn off, these three days on the road might be a bit of a drag.

Today was similar to my Calgary-Vancouver drive, but in reverse. First, the Cascades, wonderful steep forested hills, although higher here than in Canada. The spectre of Mount Ranier was visible in the morning, but quickly the behemoth was hidden behind the ranks of smaller mountains in its thrall. The contrast between the mountain ranges is interesting. The Cascades are an active volcanic range, with massive, iconic (Ranier is on the Washington license plates) volcanoes surrounded by smaller, weathered peaks. The Rockies were caused by plate tectonics; there are many more high peaks here, but the majesty of each individual peak is challenged by the majesty of the one next to it.

Between the ranges lies a stretch of total desert. The temperature climbed over 90 degrees and I appreciated my air conditioning, as I sped by miles of yellow-orange scrubland, punctuated by small improbable farms kept green only by extensive irrigation. I stopped on a lookout to gaze over a stunning scar carved into the baking earth by the Columbia river. While crossing the continental divide in Canada, I had crossed the Bow River (St. Lawrence Watershed), hopped over a pass and then crossed the Columbia (then a shallow, rushing mountain river, it eventually empties into the Pacific at Portland, OR). Now, I was a bit downstream and the river was wide and taking its time.

The approach of Spokane, WA, is heralded by the gentle fading of the scrubland into a pine forest. It starts miles outside of the city, and the trees gradually build in density until they become a full blown forest at the Idaho border, where the mountains of the Rockies start. Spokane is in this in-between area. I hardly explored, stopping just to grab gas and note that the city is home to Gonzaga University, a school I never knew the origins of.

Idaho, (The Gem State), is beautiful. I'll put that up front. I was totally entranced during my hour plus crossing of the state's panhandle. While the Rockies here are not of the skyscraper variety that exists in Canada and Colorado, they are stunningly beautiful. The grades are steep and the valleys are so narrow, the charming brick towns along the highway don't even have space for a strip. Twice in Idaho, I was compelled to stop by the beauty of the landscape. Once, stopping was actually illegal, so I merely slowed down for a moment. That was as the highway took a precarious path above the sublime Lake Coeur d'Alene. I had flashbacks to my encounter with Lake Tinn in Norway. Edvard Greig started playing in my head. Picture sheer, evergreen forested cliffs plunging into waters reflecting the blue of the sky and the shine of the sun. Picture this lake running like a serrated knife through the mountains, darting in and out of the mountainsides. I forgive Coeur d'Alene for the Aryan Nation, their lake is spectacular.

The second time I stopped in Idaho is the subject of today's photo. The Cataldo Mission has none of the jaw-dropping splendor of Lake Coeur d'Alene, yet as I took a split second look out of the passenger side window at the Mission speeding past, it drew me to take a second look and then take the next exit, head back on the highway, and spend a minute at the Mission. Built in 1842 at the request of the Coeur d'Alene tribe, the mission sits on a simple hill in the midst of a shallow, deeply forested valley. It commands a simple clearing, some paths and a picnic table. The humble structure matched the quiet contemplation that such a location provided. It affected me in a way that is hard to describe without you sitting next to me on a picnic table in the shade of a trees that flank the mission. What a lonely outpost this must have been, even surrounded by such simple natural beauty.

Montana did not differ dramatically from Idaho, although over time the valleys widened and the mountains lowered. I enjoyed myself listening to Christian radio and a variety of Biblical teachings and messages. Religious study and theology are fascinating fields, and it was really interesting to me to deconstruct the arguments and ideas being presented by various pastors. This radio station was also relentlessly positive and all the teachings pushed home a Christian message of hope and forgiveness, not homophbia and intolerance, which made it quite worth listening to.

After about 7 hours of driving, I rolled into Missoula at about 8pm MDT. The small city isn't Madison, but it's a college town and even on a Monday night in August there were some hopping restaurants and bars. Most storefronts are occupied and the town gives a good vibe. Go Grizzlies!

Tomorrow, my goal is just to go. I'd like to reach Bismarck, the capital of North Dakota, which is about 11 hours away. That'd shave some time off my day three drive. We'll see what I can do. That's it for now.