Driving The Rockies

I am headed to Vancouver today. Once again I will get into my big steel chariot, heading down the ribbon of pavement which worms its way through the valleys and passes of the majestic Rocky Mountains, through lesser ranges and interior plateaus, until we meet that final valley and follow the raging river to the sea. Of course, I can no longer do this alone. Once again David is giving up part of his life to make a part of mine possible.

There is no way to properly express the gratitude I feel for what David is doing, and for what others are doing. It is they, and they alone, who make my life worth living. I am no longer an independent man, no longer free to do as I wish on a simple whim. I need others, I depend on others, I live through the gifts of time they give to me.

This journey, from the still of the prairie to the icy peaks, through steep-sided canyons, across sharp cut rivers carrying away the silt of winter; this journey reminds me so much of life, and has so long been a part of my life. My first ride through the Rockies took place when I was just 4 years old, and then again 2 years later. My second, my first where I truly could appreciate it, was when I was only 17, hitchhiking my way across the country, then again when I was 18. It seems like every year or two since then I have made my way across these ranges.

Lately it's been more often than that. Living in Calgary while my Mom, Ray, and three of my children live in coastal BC means I make my way out there at least a few times a year. I don't often fly; I prefer the road trip. It's just what I like. So today I will do it once again, headed to Vancouver for my Mom's 85th birthday luncheon on Saturday. Then, on Sunday, David and I will charge out again, headed east, for home. That's twice on this drive in only a few days. It will be beautiful.