Guest Post: Matt in a filthy hotel room in Tuba City

Ten days and three thousand miles into this trip and I've finally been conscripted into blog service. I think in the past year the longest thing I've written was probably a post-it note, so I'll just throw caution to the wind and type to my heart's content. Here's a quick summation of the highlights for myself:
Chicago - can't say enough about this city, it was beautiful in that uniquely urban way. Shining skyscrapers, relatively clean streets, friendly people, engaging nightlife - that should be enough praise to get the point across. As our first notable destination it did not disappoint.
Nebraska - twice I started to warm up to the state and that growing empathy was promptly extinguished by swarming mosquitos and over-zealous state troopers.
Denver - this place is abound with interesting and active people. White-water rafting was a great experience, especially pulling Jon out of the water.
Wyoming, Montana, & Utah - what I had been truly looking forward to on this trip. Stunning vistas around every bend made the drives exciting. It got to the point where I actually wanted to keep driving and had to be forcibly removed from the driver's seat.

This seems a good point to start reflecting. I took up the driving reins midway through Utah and took us through Salt Lake City. I had burned through over 600 pages of reading material and who knows how many songs by then, so driving was a welcome diversion from the back-seat boredom. About an hour south of SLC the traffic and oppressive haze of the city had given way to the mountains and canyons of Utah. There's something remarkably pleasing about driving through a valley, the mountains framing the horizon and the miles of open fields on either side of the road bringing a welcome feeling of insignificance, if that makes any sense. It's like the pressures and chaos of civilization are pushed beyond those mountains, and for a while there is nothing to do but turn your thoughts inward.

I had a conversation with the mother of a friend of mine recently about how people are either drawn to the beach or the mountains. I must classify myself as a mountain man (I need to grow a beard ASAP if that is the case). I find that when I'm on or around mountains or any kind of mountainous terrain I'm much more relaxed and appreciative of the "big picture." It's too easy to get lost in the mess of city and suburb life. This afternoon we finally got to get out of the car and hike a trail instead of a sidewalk, and what better place than the Grand Canyon.

As we set off from the rim into the Canyon I was in paradise. The steady crunch of the rocks under my feet beat like a cadence and the act of descending a trail that bordered a cliff dropping several thousand feet became an automated process that the recesses of my brain were capable of handling without my conscious assistance. Once again I could turn away from the thoughts that consume me in a city: Does my hair look stylishly disheveled? Is that person staring at me? Will someone scoff at me as a stupid tourist if I stop and take a picture of this? Instead I was enveloped by my surroundings and in complete serenity. Everyone on the trail was friendly and each exchange of words just reinforced my peace of mind. Once again every twist and bend brought a new incredible view. The walls of the opposing side of the canyon seemed so far away they could have been a painting. The climb back up was steep to say the least and brought intense focus - regulate breathing, sip water, avoid thousand foot plummet to death. Arriving at the top almost brought disappointment with its feelings of achievement. It was almost like cresting the rim and boarding the shuttle bus left those feelings of peace and focus back below the edge of the canyon.

I would highly recommend a cross-country drive to every American. Usually when I go on vacation I travel to one place and spend several days there, then return home. This brings a disconnected feeling when I think about that place, just like reading American history a chapter a week from a textbook. It's like jumping into a cold pool and then a hot tub, then right back in the pool. It's certainly refreshing and exhilarating, but it leaves you with different and disjointed reference points. By crossing state border after border and time zone after time zone, this truly epic country is meshing together and forming a cohesive story of the nation. We've encountered an array of interesting people, spent time in cities and the wilderness, and seen how every state blends into the next. We've spent time at a battlefield where the 7th Cavalry under George Custer were wiped out by a band of united Native American tribes, and then crossed into reservation territory where those once great nations that once covered the continent are reduced to selling trinkets and "authentic Indian arts and crafts" out of trailers. I feel guilty sitting here belittling this town when I think that this is the tract of land that they were forced onto by the government. The range of emotions and experiences that I've been through in the past ten days have taught me more about this country than a textbook ever has. I've felt both pride and shame in the past when pronouncing myself as American, but I've realized that life is all about the triumphs and failures, the peaks and valleys. The life of this nation is still relatively young and while the current era we are living in I would classify as one of America's "valleys," I think this nation has plenty of guile and ingenuity left in it to turn things around and make us proud once again. Tomorrow we complete our journey to the opposite coast, and I fully expect to love every second of it.