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Blogs by Paul Cuenco
The Loneliness of a Country Road 2/3/2012 10:28:44 PM
A country road. The road to Mt. Adams was definitely a lonely country road punctuated by rolling pastures, cows and horses at a distance and homes torn apart by the wide open spaces between them. I was alone on the road trying to get to Mt. Adams, a trip I promised myself taking when I first glimpse it on the other side of the Columbia River gorge. I drove on the
Washington side and up a road, passing along small hamlets littered by crew of boaters ready to launch on a tributary of the Columbia River. They seemed to be a joyous party and they were gearing up for the event. Some boats were still turned upside down on the roof of cars but some boats were being hauled unto the river. Coolers were on the ground. I saw laughter. And people were in their wetsuits ready to have a splash on the water.
The road turned into a forest, inundated by trees lining up both sides of the road. I went up several miles until such time I hit upon a clearing and the sight of Mt. Adams shown itself to me. It was gloriously white, its pinnacle. I wondered whether or not climbers scrambled to the top. It was a tall mountain, not much taller than its cousin, Mt. Hood, but it was a bigger mountain. I learned that the mountain is a volcano.
I went nearer up its ramparts, up its steep mountain face. Few cars traversed the road and even fewer cars went farther up. Unlike Mt. Hood where the road was well paved, the road to Mt. Adams turned into gravel. I went unto the graveled road and after a few meters, I turned the car around and climbed down. I figured that it would not be worthwhile to allow my car to suffer the hazard of a broken axle.
Roads like this are enthralling. I find that the loneliest country road a source of excitement because it affords me a sense of reverence for what can lie ahead. It is as if the road is made just for my pure pleasure and I, alone, will enjoy it.
A friend of mine talked about a visit he made to Maryhill Museum of Art. He said that it was a stone’s throw from Maryhill Winery. The road he took was not lonely at all. It was chockfull of cars and trucks. But on the hill, the road became lonesome not because it was lonesome but because the cars and trucks were no more.
I did not go to Maryhill Musuem of Art but rather I turned left on a road leading to Maryhill Winery. The winery was empty, except for some tourist scavenging for wines. I tried their wine and settled for a red varietal. I proceeded to purchase that bottle. On another occasion, when by happenstance I ventured once again upon its grounds, I saw peacocks roaming its grounds. I spent some time coaxing the birds to approach me and some did. By the time I was leaving, a car was approaching and likewise, ventured towards the peacock. I noticed that a construction crew was renovating the stage. I was told that Maryhill Winery’s ground was totally being altered.
There was this road that was the first road in the state of Washington which was paved. My friend said that the road zigzagged. The road leads to a car show on Maryhill Museum. Saabs was reconstituted into a pick-up. And there were many other cars: Studebaker, ’53 Ford convertible, Mini Cooper and Crown Victorias. He even showed pictures of it.
Indeed, lonely country roads can lead to venues I care to see and participate in, be it the glorious Mt. Adams, the quiet serenity of Maryhill Winery or the splendid extravagance of a car show up on Maryhill Museum. Lonely as the road seemed but the excitement awakes my senses.
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