She emerged in the fall of 2004. Autumn colors blanketed the landscape, and winter was pressing in. Threats of snow graced everyone’s mind, and nighttime temperatures slipped in and out of freezing.
Steeling herself to the winters of the Upper Peninsula, along the shores of Lake Superior, she told herself over and over, “If I don’t drive on snow and ice, I will never be able to do anything this season.”
Winter blasted in early in that part of Michigan, and, often, remnants lasted until early summer. There was a reason why 3 percent of the entire state’s population lived in an area that comprised almost 30 percent of the state. Scraggly, scrappy, independent people loved the U.P. and carried the cold of Lake Superior like a badge of honor.
Staggering rock formations along the cliffs of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore folded the shores of Gitche Gumee into their embrace, and the icy liquid of the shining Big-Sea-Water whispered stories of the Ojibwe and many a shipwrecked sailor. She trekked along the shoreline between Munising and Marquette, venturing east to Sault Ste. Marie and west to Ironwood, amazed at the raw wildness.
After three years, though, it was time to leave, and her journey continued in South Florida. Cruising along the Tamiami Trail between Naples and Ochopee, she drove daily to Big Cypress National Preserve. Immediately adjacent to the west side of Everglades National Park, Big Cypress protected habitat of the freshwater swamp ecosystem that, in turn, provided 40 percent of fresh water to the Everglades. The swamp welcomed meandering water that recharged critical limestone aquifers and supported a diverse group of animals and plants ranging from the Florida Panther to the Ghost Orchid. Roseate Spoonbills waded through the water, and the vast sea of grass competed with the aching hugeness of the sky. The swamp was the wet wilderness of the South.
Soon it was time to move on, and she traveled as far away from south Florida as she could while remaining in the continental United States. The distant Northwest called, and she settled in Port Angeles on the Olympic Peninsula, home to Olympic National Park. Olympic, one of the top 10 most visited national parks, was known for its distinct rain forests, the alpine regions of the Olympic mountains, and the longest stretch of designated wilderness coastline.
Why did she travel so much? Every three-four years, the pull to move struck. She felt lucky to be in places that people yearned for and vacationed in, and places full of astonishing beauty.
The Olympic Peninsula ended too, and this time, Kentucky beckoned. For anyone in the horse world, Kentucky was definitely “The Capital,” contrary to what Florida, New York and California thought. Pulling a horse trailer full of mattresses, chairs, and pots and pans, she made the trek across the country in fine shape and got settled.
Oddly, of all places, the cycle stopped in Kentucky: land of the Cherokee, bluegrass that grows overnight, and bourbon to die for. Good times and good memories.
Kentucky grew on her and lulled her into its Southern comfort. Days and weeks turned into months, and before she knew it, 10 years had passed. Then it ended abruptly. She died in November of 2023, and her family said goodbye. Goodbye to the 2005 Honda Pilot. Mileage 246,000.
2024 Finalist Submission for Penned: Non-Fiction