"Washington Pass" by Trish HardingI'm going to take a trip back in time soon, but I'll be going backwards to a place that still gives my heart a lot of satisfaction and peace. Come if wish, there will be plenty of room.
My friend Sr Gadbois is back in town, if just for awhile. As a matter of fact you met him once at a party here at the house. I had just started my new position at the branch, you were somewhat deep into your talks at home and the gang from the central library wanted to send me off with a small get together. Nick was in town that week to see his brother but made time, in fact a whole day, to hang out with me. I don't think I was I expecting for him to do that at the time but it turned out to be a fine afternoon as I had everything put together that I was going to serve that day all ready and set to go. It was easy to sit and talk and be entertained by that man as we had gone back a long ways and it had been a long time since he'd graced my home with his presence. We both had plenty of stories to tell and the afternoon fairly flew by. Before I knew it the Paging crew was at my door step and so were you. I had truly expected to see The Detective there with you considering all, but cowardly custard that he is, he could only bully you at home and not me in mine. Too bad, it would have made for an interesting afternoon.
I got an email from Nick the other day to let me know that he'd be back in town soon. But not my town. He has business to attend to over on the other side of the Cascades, back in Twisp and Winthrop and he made it clear that this time could possibly be the last time he'd be going that way. He was hoping for a big public art gig in the Methow but that didn't work out. He still has friends there in the valley and they've been holding onto a number of his paintings for him. He felt it was time to gather together all his goods and get them into storage down in New Mexico. Great idea considering the distance and the value of his work.
There was a painting of his that I've been interested in buying and so he told me that he would swing a special deal for me if I would come and get it. It would be one less thing for him to throw into the truck and one more painting of his to grace my walls. The last time I saw an image of it was the day of that house party. I only saw a photograph of it that day, but it took me back in time to the days when we shared a house in Greenlake together. I always loved that old psychedelic style era of his and here was a new version of that old school style to buy and own. Once I heard that that painting was still in storage I was on the hook, but I knew, too, that the trip was more than just going over the mountains to buy a painting. I knew from prior visits that he wouldn't make it over here, couldn't make the time because it was off his line of march. I didn't want an old friend to be so close and to miss seeing him, possibly for the last time. There have too many of those "last chance" moments in this life that have passed me by, ones that I have learned about the hard way. Painting or not I had to see him.
I woke up this morning realizing that I not only needed to see Nick but that I needed to take that trip over the mountains in order to see what we had seen one last time . I know that you are not traveling with me in the flesh but you'll be along for the ride all the same. I won't be able to duplicate much of anything that we did, as the season is off and I won't be attending WALE, but I will be able to stop and take in the view at Washington Pass, cruise the galleries in Winthrop, grab a cinnamon roll in Twisp and drive by Lake Chelan and the hotel where we all stayed at that week. I'll more than likely stop in Wenatchee and grab a bite in that pub we graced that night and then, just to stay in theme, take a rest break in Levenworth and walk about town just to stretch my legs before I take that long last drive over the mountains. I figure I'll just make the best of it, have a good time, stop when I need to, eat when I'm hungry, sip coffee when I'm tired and take moments not only to breathe but to take in the view.
My friend Nick left the party that day about a half hour before you did, just to give us some time together. He is gracious that way, a man who knows and appreciates the romantic streak in his fellow man. He has one of those streaks, one that runs a mile wide and he wishes he could exercise it more, but it's not for want of trying. He's one hell of a good man, an accomplished artist, degreed, talented. What's more he's the man who will be illustrating the book. Yeah, our book. Well, my writing, our tale. I think that he's game because he, too, is part of the story.
So I will pack my car out later today for an overnight camp on Friday. I figure on an early start and to leave plenty of food in the cat's bowl, along with lots of water and a touch more tuna than Guapo is used to. I figure to stop before it gets dark and find a campground to sleep in for the night. I can't think of when I might get a chance to do our rounds again. What's funny is the last time we went through Twisp was to see him, or, at least, see some of his work. We dropped a note off for him at that one gallery a couple doors down from the Cinnamon Twisp bakery, the place we gathered rolls for our coffee break outside of Winthrop. This time I get to see him there in the flesh. I figured, too, that I could use the drive as a refresher course, as research time to help me in my writing, so I better get hep and save my receipts. You see Jane has to do that trip again, too. She has to go back in time after she reads those posts, those notes. Something happens to her that tells her that she, too, needs to do that dance with time, forever fleeting time, in order to get her house, her life, her heart, back in order, too.
I get to take a drive later on this week, take a road trip over the mountain to see an old friend. I will also be taking one along with me as well, and that's you, my dear. Pack light, it's a short trip. And don't forget to bring along a screw top bottle of Coca Cola for the ride. We have some spillage to work into the intinerary, you know.
Love, your WHMB
I got an email from Nick the other day to let me know that he'd be back in town soon. But not my town. He has business to attend to over on the other side of the Cascades, back in Twisp and Winthrop and he made it clear that this time could possibly be the last time he'd be going that way. He was hoping for a big public art gig in the Methow but that didn't work out. He still has friends there in the valley and they've been holding onto a number of his paintings for him. He felt it was time to gather together all his goods and get them into storage down in New Mexico. Great idea considering the distance and the value of his work.
There was a painting of his that I've been interested in buying and so he told me that he would swing a special deal for me if I would come and get it. It would be one less thing for him to throw into the truck and one more painting of his to grace my walls. The last time I saw an image of it was the day of that house party. I only saw a photograph of it that day, but it took me back in time to the days when we shared a house in Greenlake together. I always loved that old psychedelic style era of his and here was a new version of that old school style to buy and own. Once I heard that that painting was still in storage I was on the hook, but I knew, too, that the trip was more than just going over the mountains to buy a painting. I knew from prior visits that he wouldn't make it over here, couldn't make the time because it was off his line of march. I didn't want an old friend to be so close and to miss seeing him, possibly for the last time. There have too many of those "last chance" moments in this life that have passed me by, ones that I have learned about the hard way. Painting or not I had to see him.
I woke up this morning realizing that I not only needed to see Nick but that I needed to take that trip over the mountains in order to see what we had seen one last time . I know that you are not traveling with me in the flesh but you'll be along for the ride all the same. I won't be able to duplicate much of anything that we did, as the season is off and I won't be attending WALE, but I will be able to stop and take in the view at Washington Pass, cruise the galleries in Winthrop, grab a cinnamon roll in Twisp and drive by Lake Chelan and the hotel where we all stayed at that week. I'll more than likely stop in Wenatchee and grab a bite in that pub we graced that night and then, just to stay in theme, take a rest break in Levenworth and walk about town just to stretch my legs before I take that long last drive over the mountains. I figure I'll just make the best of it, have a good time, stop when I need to, eat when I'm hungry, sip coffee when I'm tired and take moments not only to breathe but to take in the view.
My friend Nick left the party that day about a half hour before you did, just to give us some time together. He is gracious that way, a man who knows and appreciates the romantic streak in his fellow man. He has one of those streaks, one that runs a mile wide and he wishes he could exercise it more, but it's not for want of trying. He's one hell of a good man, an accomplished artist, degreed, talented. What's more he's the man who will be illustrating the book. Yeah, our book. Well, my writing, our tale. I think that he's game because he, too, is part of the story.
So I will pack my car out later today for an overnight camp on Friday. I figure on an early start and to leave plenty of food in the cat's bowl, along with lots of water and a touch more tuna than Guapo is used to. I figure to stop before it gets dark and find a campground to sleep in for the night. I can't think of when I might get a chance to do our rounds again. What's funny is the last time we went through Twisp was to see him, or, at least, see some of his work. We dropped a note off for him at that one gallery a couple doors down from the Cinnamon Twisp bakery, the place we gathered rolls for our coffee break outside of Winthrop. This time I get to see him there in the flesh. I figured, too, that I could use the drive as a refresher course, as research time to help me in my writing, so I better get hep and save my receipts. You see Jane has to do that trip again, too. She has to go back in time after she reads those posts, those notes. Something happens to her that tells her that she, too, needs to do that dance with time, forever fleeting time, in order to get her house, her life, her heart, back in order, too.
I get to take a drive later on this week, take a road trip over the mountain to see an old friend. I will also be taking one along with me as well, and that's you, my dear. Pack light, it's a short trip. And don't forget to bring along a screw top bottle of Coca Cola for the ride. We have some spillage to work into the intinerary, you know.
Love, your WHMB
To see more of Trish Harding's work:
Grand stuff, Trish! Is a print of Washington Pass available to own?
No comments:
Post a Comment