Banjos without Borders

Sunday, December 11^th, 2011

      Is there a single better feeling than coming home after being away for an extended period? Let me rephrase that. Is there a better feeling than coming home... that I can write explicitly about? That said, I am once again in the United States. The border crossing this time was rather easy. Three simple questions instead of the usual rigamarole. “Where'd you come from? What are you hauling? Where are you going?” Border guards never seem interested in recycled cardboard.

       Between Prince George, B.C. and Mt. Vernon, Washington there are a lot of hills. I'd go into detail about the route, but I've already done so in another blog. There is a lot to be said about winding up on the same routes fairly often. Sure you've already explored the scenery a few times visually. Yeah, the mountains are just as lovely as they were last week. In that sense, it may get kind of old. This is the challenge though; to enjoy the same things again in new ways. Every time we pass through a place, it is not the same as you remember it. There will always be slight variances depending on weather and the amount of time elapsed. On top of that, there is a chance to increase one's mastery with each repetition. That curve posted for 80 km/h? Yeah, I can totally hit that at 100 km/h without incident. It becomes a kind of game to do better than the last time, but with no pressure. And each time is always a bit different.

      Today for example, there was a moose just grazing by the side of the road at dawn. Scared the crap out of me when it moved its head. I thought it was just some brown lumpy thing, like a pile of wood. Further down the same road, I saw a tiny heard of big horn sheep. They were just merrily grazing as if all the passing traffic was a mere pleasantry. A few klicks back, I saw the sign advising that they might be present. Yeah, the signs are a dime-a-dozen and they often get ignored. This time though, I was wondering what it would be like to hit one with a fully loaded truck. I briefly fantasized about clobbering one , then lashing it to the deck above the drive shaft behind my sleeper. Then I considered what it would take to tear the horns off. I think what disturbed me the most was that the first thought to dissuade me from pursuing this in earnest was the idea that the border guards might not be too keen on me bringing a dead animal across customs. If I were in a better mind set, I would have had more compassion for the animal and not considered ripping apart the sack of meat formerly know as its body to collect a trophy. The thought alone of killing a fellow creature of spaceship Earth would have me weeping with pity. If I were in a better mindset. Obviously, I'm not there, since for some reason I thought it would be cool to have a set of bighorns as a kind of gruesome trophy.

      So Now I'm here in the Mount Vernon drop lot, hoping to get a quiet night's sleep before heading into Seattle tomorrow. Not that the city matters so much. And you know what? There was no way I could be so close to Sedro-Woolley and not go get my banjo!!! I'm rather excited to start learning, but perhaps a little daunted by the task. I'm starting from nothing and going from there. One of my former housemates who plays a really good guitar just picked it up and started plucking away, sounding rather good. Then I realize that I am not him, and I need to start some where. I figure that having a musical instrument will be a good lesson for me in that it takes failure and perseverance, and passion to acquire a modicum of skill. Lessons I can sure use in this life time. Speaking of which.. on to lesson 1!


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