Almost Forgotten Tale

I enjoyed the LED campfire social circle in Nakusp, telling old tales and getting to know new and old friends better, but this is about travel.  I departed Sunday morning, twisting through light traffic on the east bank of the Slocan Lake.  I crossed into the United States without fanfare, and proceeded on the reciprocal course of my northbound journey.  Turning off 395 just before Kettle Falls, on to Rt 25 that follows the contours of Lake Roosevelt, I saw a 4 point buck sitting up in the roadway.  The wounded animal was very alert and watched me as I slowly putted by.  I could see his leg was broken.  I was crestfallen with sympathy for the guy, but what could I do?  There was enough traffic that he would be struck again or put out of his misery by some gun-yielding local.  I had the image of that deer in my mind as I continued my journey.  I was bound and determined to make it home for the eclipse.  I figured I could make it to Pasco, so I opened Hotel.com on the iPhone and booked a room at a Knight’s Inn.  When I finally arrived in Pasco, I passed the place and had to backtrack 3 miles.  I saw it was a truck stop with attached, run-down motel that invited the more colorful characters of society to spend the night.  I scanned my phone for an alternative, but with the pending eclipse the prices had soared.  I resigned myself to the fact I was stuck here.  I was pleasantly surprised by the spacious 1970’s decorated lodging.  The shower pumped out water like a riot cops firehose, and the king sized bed was actually more comfortable than I would have guessed looking at this flop house.

I woke up early so I could have a chance at making Bend in time.  It was dark so I dropped Trafalgar into the river of commuters.  I survived the bumper-to-bumper traffic, seeing two rear-end fender benders and enough smoking and squealing brake noise to solidify my decision to stay away from interstate travel, especially rush hour.  I cleared the reaches of the urban areas and put the cruise control on 75.  I exited off I-84 at Arlington, heading south on route 19, normally a highway to enjoy solitude, but today was eclipse day.  I struggled to maintain the speed limit in a line of out-of-state vehicles jockeying for prime viewing.  I passing thousands of celestial tourists on the roadside until I made it to Mitchell, OR.  I was past the equator of the passing sun and the traffic West bound disappeared.  Through Prineville and Bend the holocaust must have happened because there was an eerie vacancy.  No traffic, no people, no noise.  As I got closer to Bend where there was a strange grayness to everything, the light was dimming.

I wound through the side streets, void of the usual activity, like a zephyr in a dream, rolling into my driveway to see three zombies staring up at the sun with odd cardboard space alien googles on.  I was 15 minutes from total eclipse.  I hurried to find my mylar glasses, grabbed a scotch, a cigar, and joined the other zombies.  The most significant experience was the 35 degree temperature change at total coverage.