Tom Ryan, Author

Good morning from the Texas Panhandle, where it’s cloudy, cool, and windy. We are in one of those reclaimed areas that chain hotels take over. There are eight in this tangle, with some sad, old properties remaining to be developed. These are mid-level chains, and one has the impression that many of the lots will remain stubbled and bare with the occasional empty building. It’s not an attractive landscape, more forlorn, and if we were here for more than a night, it would drain my empathic ass.

This footage is in addition to this morning’s postcard shots and shorter video. Using Aaron Copland’s music feels fitting; it is a perfect marriage with the shots, the light, and the soul of our hour there. See if you agree. Make sure you catch the curious interaction between the young bison and Samwise. I only wish I had a better angle at it. It’s the stuff of joy and wonder, which also seems to be the theme to our journey, at only 4 days and 1,900 miles in.

You are due a letter describing our first few days, but we are already on the road. Just after noon today, we have a date with Route 66 to celebrate its 100th birthday. We’ll follow that grand old road of lore and verse all the way through the end of tomorrow, Thursday, June 18, and into Friday for a spell.

Good morning, and greetings from the road. Before I get into where we are—that can wait for now—I’ll let you know that our first two days did not go as planned, dreamed or wished. Nothing tragic occurred, and all four of us (the HMS Beagle included) are fine. We simply had a difficult time leaving Truro. There was always more to do, more to pack, clean, and organize. Our new living situation (packing things away) was different than I have been used to in past years.

My writing table this past winter. The Cape Cod National Seashore website reports that there are over a thousand freshwater ponds here. During the last ice age, enormous blocks of ice were left behind, forming deep depressions called kettle holes. Nature filled them with water. Although you don’t see many driving the length of the Cape on Route 6, they are everywhere when you look from above.

Emily eyes a blonde in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. And so it begins… Our latest cross-country odyssey commences tomorrow morning. We plan to be out the door and in the HMS Beagle between 9:30 and 10 a.m. We never launch smoothly. The days leading up to our trips are exhausting, and that fatigue comes in layers. You’d think for as often as we’ve tackled these massive undertakings, I’d have it down by now. Once we hit the road, all is well; it’s just getting out the door that is difficult.

This is the first of two posts today. The second will be a brief piece on what to expect when we begin our 100 Days of Summer Coddiwomple tomorrow morning. Excitement is mounting. There remains packing and cleaning to do, and Samwise & Emily have a grooming appointment today.

Route 6, which begins in Provincetown, is now disjointed and shortened by modernity. It no longer ends at Long Beach, but in Bishop, where we are stopping. On Saturday morning, we’ll drive to this sign before starting our latest odyssey. Good morning on a breezy, sun-drenched day. It’s been hot lately, and we’ve had the opportunity to experience summer on the Outer Cape. It feels hopeful to sit outside at this early hour, sun in my face.

Early morning miles before yesterday’s heat. Good morning. Thank you for being here. This is a special post for the three of us, although Samwise and Emily couldn’t give a hoot. Besides, they’re too excited by the coyote and fox scents crisscrossing the property to pay much attention to anything else. They’ve had a rousing sniff around, looking like cartoon hounds, noses to the earth, butts to the sky, hoovering up whatever clues they can lift from plant and stone.

As we prepare to leave our new home, it feels strange to write, “our new home.” I often catch myself when I begin to say, “back home,” while talking about Jackson.