Variegated green, tree-stuffed hillsides fringe the curvy road as we enter Oregon from the south on I-5. It’s our annual trek to the northwest with me on Big Red and Judy driving the car behind, covering my backside.
This year the only snow we saw covered Mt. Shasta’s summit instead of the roadway in front of me. There was also a light dusting on nearby mountain tops. Good to look at from afar. Snow not on the road is good snow. (Some of you long-time followers may recall the harrowing encounter with a snowstorm around Weed in June 2011.)
Seems as though my senses were heightened this trip. The greens shone greener; horses were more playful, glistening and posing in the sunshine. The cerulean blue of Shasta Lake threaded through my view, left and right. Clouds like white caps dotted Carolina blue skies as I rode through the Coquille River valley in Oregon.
The air smelled different over the state line, and it changed again within a few miles from Highway 101 as I neared Coos Bay.
|Coos Bay Marina|
Riding my motorcycle a long distance with only my thoughts and sounds of the road or those of my own making provides a length of time for quiet reflection. Hours in the saddle tipped my thoughts toward friends and family (past and present), the work and play that I love, and to the beauty of this life I lead. Seat-time Zen -- priceless.
~ xoA ~