The emotional residue from my reunion with Dale would last for days as I drove into the heart of Oregon. It was particularly strong that night, having just left him in order to chase the Perseid meteor shower.
In most of my encounters with Dale, I am left with a sense of awe mixed with concern. This was no different. His passion for life, if any stronger, would show as a visible aura. I wondered what his life might have been, if the knob that controlled his nonconformity was turned down just a touch.
I think he would have made an excellent civil engineer, his wide-ranging knowledge and concern for ecological balance are exactly what are needed in the design of society's infrastructure. More likely, he would practice in remote parts of the world, building structure from chaos, balancing impact with benefit.
I drove east through Portland one last time, being careful not to get mixed up again on the freeway spaghetti over the Columbia river. As I drove, the urban density diminished with the sky's twilight, and I started to think about other things. My next astrophoto target was Crater Lake, but I could never get that far tonight. But I could get somewhere dark, right? I could set up some cameras and try to catch meteor trails. I drove east, then south, hoping for a clue, an inspiration, about where to land for this night. The sky became dark and disappeared behind streetlights and haze. I pulled off the road to check, but was unable to gauge whether it was suitable for photographing, which usually means it isn't.
It had been a long day. Was it just this morning that I had put my wife and son on an airplane? The lack of a clear plan and an accelerating weariness started to take control. The plan, unformed as it was, now evolved to include some way of getting some sleep. Maybe I should check in at one of these traveler hotels before it gets too late. Then I would have a nice place to crash after watching the meteor shower. Yes, that sounds like a good plan. I'll check into this one, and then as soon as I drop off some stuff, I'll get back outside and find a nearby park, one without lights. Hmm. I wonder how far I'll have to go to find such a place. Maybe I'll just stay in the room for a while and study my maps so I don't waste time driving around. Do I want to go that far? I'm pretty tired. Maybe this isn't the year for me to see the Perseids. I should get some rest so I can be ready for tomorrow's drive...
It's amazing what self talk and the power of rationalization can do. In this case, it was probably for my benefit, I really was exhausted, and having another day to transition back to my astrophoto odyssey was the right thing to do. It was just too bad that I was doing it here, paying for a nondescript hotel room in an unmemorable town somewhere south of Portland, when I could have spent it in the warm company of my Tillamook friends. The Perseids were lost, but the loss was much larger than a recurring meteor shower.
