Comfort!

Comfort, comfort! NOT! Our second Walmart night was anything but comfortable! A night full of fellow “trailer park” music blaring; planes soaring overhead, sirens screaming at intermittent intervals, parking lot flood lights that would make you think you were on an airport runway, then rain hammering our roof. Quite a sleepless night and we are glad to be on our way. We cross the International Divide and we are now in Idaho. Idaho – my guess is that on Family Feud the most popular answer to “what do you think of when you think of Idaho?” Survey said, “It would have to be “Potato”!!! That is my go-to answer. But then I am Irish and potatoes are dear to the heart of the Irish. I confess that “Potatoes” are my comfort food. I have never met one I didn’t like – small minis, red ones, yellow ones, white ones, log-sized baked ones – it doesn’t matter to me – they are always first in line to rice or pasta. So where are my Idaho potatoes? As we enter Idaho we are climbing tall mountains! We are circling around them next to rushing rivers, and they are covered with tall, stately pine trees – like a forest brush cut with tops tipped in snow. The snow is so close we can almost touch it! No potato fields. We stop at a town called Coeur D’Alene, meaning, “heart of awl” 20 years ago we stopped here and had dinner at a restaurant called Crickets. It is still here! We find out that the town will host the “Ironman” competition in 2 days time. It is the qualifying race for Hawaii Ironman because the terrain is so similar. We are not quite ready for the Ironman! But we have lunch at Crickets and take a picture in the same spot we did 2 decades ago. Then we are on our way. Washington state is our next crossing. The land is flat; you can see for miles, and the crops are marked for 20 miles – guess what – there are potatoes!! I think I will ask for a Washington potato next time I want a baked potato – hee, hee. You can imagine how silly that would sound; Idaho potato would not raise an eyebrow, but to request a Washington potato sounds very odd. Rip is amazed at the round, green farmlands. He remembers seeing them from our airplane coming back from Arizona to Toronto for my high school reunion on the last Sabbatical trip. Now he know why these farm fields are round – the irrigation system twirls around and around in a circular fashion – it makes sense! It is my turn to drive; I do a double check - the gas gauge is full – good to go. Comfort! But not for long. As Rip sleeps at the back of the Westy and I climb a mountain; and the engine is very sluggish; I shift from 4th to 3rd and back to 4th and down to 3rd. RipsJoy does not like this at all; Comfort, Comfort, dear Westy! It reminds me of the words of the prophet, Isaiah, “comfort, comfort, oh my people”. He spoke these words when the people were going through times of terrible destruction and challenge. Our Westy does not like mountains! Finally we are over the mountaintop and the ride is “comfortable” again. The views are spectacular; the comfort of nature never disappoints. We are thinking “comfort”’ for tonight near Seattle, Washington – we have earmarked at campground with real showers (instead of a Wet One!), a quiet location by a lake and our favourite, WiFi service. The image of comfort is sweet!