It’s fall, y’all. It’s not in my usual lexicon to use the previous contraction, but sometimes the shoe fits. Well, the shoe seldom fits me. I mean that in the literal sense.
Almost two years ago at the end of September, I boarded Amtrak for a trip of a lifetime. I faced my anxiety and traveled solo to Spokane, WA from New York’s Capital District. Having watched North by Northwest a few too many times, I’d always wanted to do a train journey in my own private compartment. So, a few months shy of my 65th birthday, I set off for Spokane. I’ve talked about this journey ad nauseam so I won’t rehash any of that.
Since that trip I’ve thought long and hard about what I saw, through the train window and in person. I experienced the prairie habitat, something I hadn’t really seen too much. It’s vast. I experienced the sight of snow-capped mountains. It’s imposing. I experienced the numerous bodies of water along the way (Whitefish Lake, Lake Coeur d’Alene, Lake Pend Oreille, to name a few) along with countless rivers and creeks (Mississippi, Flathead, Spokane, to name a few). It’s intoxicating.
I soaked in all that I was able to see. What I saw was remarkable. To be honest, it also cemented my preference for the Northeast. Why? I was struck by the vast open landscape. So much vast open land. As an individual living with generalized anxiety disorder, I didn’t want to think about living in the middle of nowhere. And I love solitude much more than most people. There’s solitude and there’s isolation. If my situation was different and I lived on a ranch or family compound where there were others I wouldn’t mind.
It is undeniably beautiful, in the same vein as the Southwest. But, the colors don’t work for me. They’re so harsh. Lots of grays and browns, lots of dust, lots of rock. Each of these retains its own beauty and I recognized the raw splendor of all I saw. I yearned for the green and soft landscape of my home. Maybe it’s because it’s what I’m used to seeing. I’m adaptable enough to acclimate. I don’t think I’d want to. Never say never.
Summer is wonderful in the Northeast. I live on the doorstep of the largest park in the US, larger than Yosemite, Yellowstone and Grand Canyon Parks combined. Though folks from the West laugh at our mountain ranges, they are mountains nonetheless…constructed through tectonic movements, glacier movement, etc. Some of our mountain ranges are classified as sub-ranges of the Appalachian Mountains. Some are classified as a massif. Some are considered an escarpment. They are somewhat small compared to those out West. It doesn’t mean they don’t have their own charm.
I’m lucky enough to live within easy driving distance of the Adirondacks (NY), Catskills (NY), Greens (VT), White Mtns (New Hampshire and western Maine). Mt Washington, the highest peak east of the Mississippi, just under 6300 ft, is part of the White Mtns in NH.
Regardless of what an individual prefers, there’s no mistake that fall in the Northeast is magical. Leaf peeping is an integral part of the area’s tourist industry. There’s a charm that exists in the Northeast that I haven’t found elsewhere in the US. Maybe I just haven’t found that other spot yet.
Agree to disagree. It’s subjective, but it’s all beautiful. Make sure you appreciate it.
Stories Are For Eternity 