THE PORTALS OF TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES
by Branwyn Holroyd
When they hear that my seasonal barista job is going to end, customers ask me what I am going to do next. I tell them I’m going on a road trip. That I’m going to a writing workshop in Truth or Consequences, and then I plan to drive south to places in New Mexico and Texas where nights get so dark you can see more stars than most places on the planet.
Some people understand my impulse, some just think the trip from Salt Spring Island, British Columbia to West Texas is a long way to drive.
T. says, “fill your cup, Branwyn, fill your cup.”
I take the ferry to Victoria, and another from Victoria to Port Angeles Washington. The border patrol officer asks what I’m doing. I just say, “I’m going on a road trip to New Mexico.” He says, “are you in search of warmer weather?” “Yes,” I say.
I stop in Portland to go hiking and visit my friend K. Then I head south-east, wind my way through eastern Oregon, and Idaho. I white-knuckle the drive through Salt Lake City, then marvel at the beauty of Utah’s colours and shapes. Cliffs and outcroppings layered with multiple hues of red and brown. Wind and other elements have carved sandy rock into many different shapes: jagged edged towers, rounded cliff edges that appear to ripple in the light.
At the border of southern Colorado and New Mexico I drive through Navajo and Ute lands. Shiprock and other rock forms appear as mirages in the heat and dust. I stop for gas about twenty minutes outside of Grants on the Navajo nation. I fill my tank and rummage around in the car for some food. I notice an older Navajo man watch me as he fills his tank. His quiet calm is palpable. He waves. It’s a tiny wave he makes with his fingers, a gift of attention, that stays with me.
At the workshop in Truth or Consequences we talk a lot about portals. The town is full of art, decorated doors, murals, the face of an alien drawn on a window. A large blue spiral painted on a cement wall pulls the eye to its center, an entry point to another dimension. And isn’t that one of the reasons for travel? To shift location and open myself to places, people, ideas, unresolved emotions, and stories that rise up during long quiet drives with no radio. A context for diving into the unconscious and creating opportunities to connect with lost parts of the self.
In the cool early morning before the heat of the day I ride my bicycle and run along a river path. I am not alone. I see others, occasional dog walkers, usually singles walking in the quiet cool.
On the last day we gather at River Bend Hot Springs to float in the warmth and admire the river and mountains around us. I am getting lighter, unburdening what is unnecessary and heavy.
Tomorrow, we will depart to our distant homes. The journey’s not over, but I’m already pretty full.
Canadian poet Branwyn Holroyd loves to wander. A graduate from the Red Earth MFA at Oklahoma City University, she has publications in Cirque and San Pedro River Review.
