A van rumbles down the Outback Scenic Byway collecting high desert dust. She flips through stations fighting static. No luck. The fellow travelers offer no distraction, their lifeless bodies slumped in sleep. It has been lonely these three hours. They’re almost there.

Lakeview, Oregon. A place of little fanfare and even less sparkling water. Gravel pops as they pull into the motel. Hot springs will have to wait.

More Oregon Trail after the break.

Behind polyester camouflage the group takes shelter. Soon a white stallion emerges from the ether. Rob Elliott at the helm. He departs. They layer shades of blue onto their pale skin. Damn. They look good.

A reunion. Ashes to ashes, so on and so forth. They honor the the past with new memories.

A bitter goodbye leads to fresh adventure. Up north boots break, water falls, and the road turns south. Clinging to the coast they take their time. The smell of the sea. The salt of the earth. The slug of the banana.

At long last a journey ends. An final day in the arms of friends.

Ask me not why I wrote this way, imitating in Ernest the great Hemingway?

Or in conclusion why that style did change, to a rhyming close that felt so strange?

To give an answer, “I’m not sure I care”. But a post was made, with photos to share.