Tumbleweeds

Visiting my sons and their significants by automobile requires a thousand-mile journey either east or west from Wisco to North Carolina or Colorado. We drive because we usually stay for a month or so. Plus, flying is a grind and we can take all the stuff we need and more.

Recently, our journey west included a new route out of Lincoln, NE to Denver. Instead of bolting down HWY 80 we dropped down to HWY 34 across Nebraska. This lesser used two-lane highway  traces the Oregon Trail and lets you experience the infinity of the western plains. Passing through towns like: Holdrege, Arapahoe, McCook and Wray.

Historical markers tell the tale of wagon trains and buffalo herd massacres. The horizon spotted with silver grain elevators and massive cattle feed lots that you hope are down wind.

Entering Colorado, we regained HWY 76 and began the long uphill run to the mile-high city. Signs warned us of high crosswinds as we entered a world of massive billowing dust clouds and armies of tumbleweeds propelled by 25 mph winds and punchy gusts.

Traffic ran at 80 mph. Our two bicycles on the rear rack acted like a wagging tail. Hundreds of tumbleweeds summersaulted across our path in migratory clouds each with it’s own personality. Large and small, oblong and round, our roadway was alive. Only when civilization began to appear did the tumbling crowds subside.

While unpacking the car we noticed a small tumbleweed we caught mid-stride in the grill. For anyone else it’s simply trash, for us, a remembrance of life and the wonder of crossing the open plains.