I have a particular love (and lots and lots of sketches) of treeless landscapes and endless plains. But I have to admit—after driving cross-country over more than 2,000 miles of the flat interior of the continent, seeing mountains again, at last, feels like a kind of reward.
* “Seeing the Elephant” was a popular (and complicated) American expression in the late 19th century, often used by pioneers to refer to the reward awaiting them at the end of their long wagon journey west.
I don’t know about you, but I’m always tempted to let my New Year’s resolutions pile up as high as the snowbanks at Mt. Rainier. Of course, it’s much harder to fulfill them than make them, but I know there’s at least one that I’ll have no problem keeping:
Just keep sketching.
For as disorienting as being awoken before dawn by owls can be, it’s nothing compared to how it feels when you suddenly find yourself on the opposite end of the country than you planned to be. When you’re expecting to land in Houston, and what you get is a hurricane in your path, a sudden 2000-mile detour, two hours in the airport ticket line, a guardian angel having two phone conversations at once, and a surprise overnight trip into the heart of the wrong city—there’s definitely an overwhelming sense of “Okay, what just happened?”
All I could do was what I always do: get out the ol’ sketchbook, and enjoy the view.
Millions of years ago, central Washington was a lush, dense forest (complete with prehistoric sasquatch-park-rangers, maybe?). The only evidence of it now are some petrified logs, a little museum—and this sign, looking a little fossilized itself.
Which, I have to say, is why I love it so much.
Well, okay, my visit missed the actual Celtic Colours music festival by a couple of days (sad but true). But even a short two days on Cape Breton gave me a nice taste of the Celtic heritage of the island—
—as well as a panorama of stunning autumn color, absolutely everywhere I looked.
If that’s not a good consolation prize, I don’t know what is.
There’s a little trail that makes a circuit around the base of Devils Tower, and it’s not hard to see why.
There’s just no bad angle anywhere—every side of the mountain is its good side.
For me, the problem wasn’t finding a good sketch spot—it was racing the clock and recording every “shot” I wanted (plus a few unexpected critters and Wall Drug signs…) before the sun went down on me!
Speaking of stormy weather, it’s a little unnerving to be sitting in the passenger seat, happily sketching along, and suddenly be startled out of your reverie by massive raindrops that sound like rocks hitting the windshield.
To be honest, though, it also makes for a thrilling sketch session—especially when you live in the Pacific Northwest, where the rain mostly comes in the form of thick mist and gentle drizzle.
At the time of this posting, I’ll be away on a new sketching adventure (for clues as to where, check out the Facebook page—or you can wait until I post a few sketches here in two weeks!). At this time of year, my destination is known for unpredictable weather that can be all over the map. I’m just crossing my fingers that it won’t be quite so crazy as the day I drove across New Mexico in a freaking sandstorm. Just sayin’.
What’s the craziest weather you’ve ever encountered on your travels? (I’m hoping that by sharing stories online, the weather gods will be distracted from dishing it out on me during my trip…) For you fellow sketchers out there, what’s the worst weather you’ve ever sketched in?
Okay, no more bear jokes. Especially since we didn’t exactly feel like laughing after the Tailor and I almost hit the real thing. (Thank goodness for reflexes and broad daylight.) Obviously I didn’t do this sketch while the moment was happening—but it was easy enough to cobble the scene together from memory.
Because, you know, the image of this guy darting out in front of us, and the Tailor’s death grip on the steering wheel, is pretty much permanently etched onto my retinas.
Speaking of bears, the great state of Montana must have a lot of them…
…since they get their own highway exit and all.
