Through The Plains

Charleston, South Carolina to Colorado

My rendezvous with solitude has begun.

At least once a year, oftentimes more, I venture far from home — Charleston, South Carolina — and head west. I suppose in every young man east of the Mississippi there is a similar desire, or subconscious thought, even if supressed. The way west was paved by those far hardier than you or I, and perhaps by following the sun as it sets I can capture a bit of that sense for myself.

With “Leaving Hell” by Treaty Oak Revival blasting, I venture down a familiar path. Interstate 26, Westbound. Interstate 40, Westbound.

I find myself at a Tennessee rest stop, starving, cold, and far from home.

The original plan called for Kentucky to be the first stop, a drive which I have previously made quite a few times. Life on the road hardly goes to plan, though I have been beaten and battered into submission over years prior, so it is time for dinner. Tennessee rest stops have a 2-hour time limit, though this is rarely enforced. I have often times spent a night (or, rather, as many hours as one can muster) on their grounds. For dinner, cinnamon raisin bagels & homemade grape jelly.

As early morning arrives, I am already long gone. Having woke at four, never truly falling asleep, I continue my drive. The goal for today is Missouri, or as far as I can go. My time on the interstates of this country has proven a few things; one, this country infrastructure is absolutely incredible. Two, no one respects the drivers who have 70,000lbs at their fingertips. Three, there is an odd comfort in driving an interstate, alone, through the dark.

Tonight, I did successfully stick to the plan. I have never camped in Missouri before, though I have camped just south in Arkansas. I spent the afternoon and evening in the Mark Twain National Forest, where I was reminded of similar scenes back home. It’s strange how much of this country is pine forest, even if different varieties. It makes for a remarkably consistent theme across most of the nation, from central Florida to the Pacific North West.

As I rise, I set my destination for the day: Kansas. A land often ignored, but with some inside tips I know of just the place to wander. Most often it is the land that is overlooked, ignored, that maintains the most beauty. In my case, I search for landscapes and places that make me feel small — insignificant. Whether that be the ocean back home, or the Alaskan range of Denali. If you desire the same, Kansas is well worth your time.

The land I sat on was beautiful. Now, one thing to note is that in Kansas, nearly all of the land is privately owned. I knew that as well, my workaround was to camp on county roads far from anyone, so as to minimize my disturbance

Unfortunately that didn’t go as planned. The land seen above is private; I found out from a real estate broker who rolled up to me in her ATV. She was kind and curious. She informed me that the land was private and the county road ended a few hundred feet prior. As I was halfway through insisting I leave, she continually reinforced that all was okay — she simply wanted to see who I was. With that in mind, I left the following morning.

My intention with this journey was to slow. Slow myself, slow my pace, slow the world around me. In any previous time, a younger Bryce would very well have driven from Charleston to Salt Lake City (my end destination) in 3 hard days. It has taken all the willpower I can muster to slow.

The next day, I continued west. This time, my destination was northeastern Colorado, where I had heard there was some fantastic public land. Being that I was to be on the road for over 9 hours, I made a quick pit stop to Made From Scratch.

Apple pie, made from scratch

This is perhaps my favorite part of any interstate drive — the restaurants. Made From Scratch, located 10 minutes south of I70 in Wilson, Kansas, is by far the best example. Everything — and I mean everything — is made from scratch On the reuben I got, my waitress told me that the bread was scratch, as was the sauerkraut, the beef, and the dressing. The only part purchased was the cheese. I was extremely satisfied.

Following this short detour, I continued though eastern Colorado. With only two hours to go, I called it quits. I pulled behind a row of trees, at the intersection of a two lane highway and a gravel county road. I spent the night, and rose with the sun. With my destination in sight, I pushed on.

Said destination would be a federal grassland east of Fort Collins. Continuing through the plains, the process of self minimization continued. It is impossible to not be humbled by the Lord when your eyes see a sight similar to these.

I would spend three nights amongst these endless rolling hills. Upon final observation, with the quickly rising above, and with coyotes howling to both my right and my left, perhaps no more than three or four, I must get going. My time in these plains is drawing to a close, and when my fourth morning comes I will find myself heading westward. So, as it stands today, Bryce has now ventured,

Through The Plains