With the Mississippi River before me and the west awaiting me, I tuned back east. There were some things I needed to do. Some things that were waiting for me. I felt the pull of a young man’s ghost.

From Memphis, I drove southeast through Mississippi and Alabama. I went to a small suburb NE of Atlanta, Alpharetta. Resting in a nice little village, I did some thinking, remembering, and started to follow where the young man’s ghost was leading me. A tale of two decisions: Ft. Benning, Georgia and Miami.

I returned to Ft. Benning where I had not been since 1989. From there, it was down south into Florida. Family, old friends and new friends awaited me. I meant to go back to Miami as well but a hurricane decided to ramp up so I headed out and away back north and then west to New Orleans. Bourbon Street.

I rested for a few days in Seal Beach, found my pint of Guinness, met with an old friend and a cousin, and made my way to San Diego to see seals–there were not any in Seal Beach but there were Plenty in La Jolla Cove. Then, I headed north. Being me, I went south first, beyond south: Tijuana!

I returned to San Francisco to meet up with a friend I had not seen in 30 years and first met in 5th grade. Then, I pushed north into the Redwood Forest, Northern California, and Oregon. First to Bend, and then to Portland–which was not, despite popular belief, burning to the ground.

In Portland, I found a friend’s sister I did not know existed and a cousin I did not know existed. I also found a sanctuary and some peace.

“Let this be a sanctuary of peace for all peoples of the earth and surely in this day a sanctuary is needed. Torn with differences, strife, and grief, the world needs sanctuary where the human spirit can seek peace and consolation.”

–Archbishop Alexander Christie at the dedication ceremony for the Sanctuary of Our Sorrowful Mother on On May 29, 1924.

The PNW Way. I stayed for a little while in Tigard, just south of Portland. A day trip took me to the Oregon Coast and an incredible hiking trail. It would be the last real hike I would take as I made my way to Seattle, by way of Mt Saint Helens, and encountered smoke.

The west coast was on fire, much like Colorado, and the smoke was heavy. At one point, the air quality in Seattle was the worst in the world.

But then it was time to find the answer to the question that had been plaguing me the entire trip so far: would Canada let me in to drive to Alaska? I made my way up to Anacortes where a childhood dream was realized and I saw Orcas in the wild. Then further through the smoke to Sumas, the Canadian border.

Denied!

I sulked for a while and then made my way east to Idaho. After more sulking, and a lot more smoke, I made my way back west to Seattle for a flight to Alaska.

After Alaska, I felt the pull. Seattle was smoke free when I returned but i felt like there was a rubber band in my mind stretched as far as it could go without snapping. I started east to relieve some of the tension.

Back through Washington but southerly to southern Idaho and Twin Sisters. I felt the pull east. But I had missed an entire state! And Mom mentioned she would like to see Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, so I was off again to race south through the Nevada desert. A swing around Las Vegas and I was at Zion National Park, then Vermilion National Monument and things got really confusing. Two national parks, three states, and a few different time zones will do that to you.

Up through Wyoming to visit what is called the largest hot springs in the world. At least that is what they see. But east was pulling me.

But I did finally figure out where I was after seeing a sign and swerving through two lanes to the exit: The Battle of Little Bighorn.

Up through Montana and then east through the ocean of grass that is North Dakota. Then, the turn south to visit a place I had wanted to see since it inspired my imagination when I was a little kid: The Badlands, South Dakota.

Finally, the heartland of America.

One last dip through the south. In my effort to travel to all 50 states, the judges ruled that my walk to Arkansas did not count. I through my challenge flag. The ruling was upheld. I’m glad it was as I went down into Little Rock to see the waterfront and a spot along The Trail of Tears.

Then, with fall threatening, I began making my way on my final trip north. Old friends awaited me in the oddest and most beautiful of places, small towns in Minnesota and Wisconsin.

“I’m not finished yet,” Al Pacino yells, slamming his cane down on the table to rise and deliver a blistering tirade in “Scent of a Woman.”

I wasn’t finished yet. 49 states. Still hadn’t found a “home.” Not quite ready to stop. It was cold in the north. But a trip back through the south and west seemed to be order.