We went back to Snohomish for a night, this weekend. It was a chance to visit with friends that were gathering, see some places that were familiar to us in the years before we moved over the Cascades, and just get away a bit. Always great to see those we have been so close to for almost 8 years! The visit also reminded us, however, of one of the contributing factors that lead to our relocation. The drive over on Friday afternoon was rainy, Saturday morning was overcast, and Saturday afternoon had only very small breaks in the clouds, with the air cold and moist…at least to our Central-Washington adapted sensations.
On the way back, I locked the phone into the window-mounted holder and bent it to a position where it could be used to take some pictures of the phenomenon I had experienced in so many previous trips, but had never really captured.
Crossing that Thin Line that separates Western Washington from the rest of the state.
As we drove up I-90, the approach to Snoqualmie Pass continued the overcast and gloomy trend that is so common, this time of year.
As we got within perhaps 2 miles of the pass, itself, the cloud cover became more compressed and formed into a fog layer that threatened to touch the road and might have force us to slow our progress.
Moving over the crest of the pass, at least in terms of pavement altitude, we saw clouds rushing down the East slope, barely above the level of the road. It was almost as if some concerted effort were being made to continue to gloom and cover, and we had found a gap that was hurriedly being covered. The clouds rushed across the width of the highway in a matter of seconds in an awesome display.
Despite this, our speed carried us past and into the more level area of the crossing of the high point, and the clouds were rapidly left behind us.
It was not long at all before there were only a few clouds in the forward view, the sun was streaming in the windows, and the A/C needed to go on.
What has always struck me is this: The change takes less than 10 minutes! It has a distinct feel of crossing an invisible border between two very different worlds, but happens so quickly that if one is engaged in something else you can almost miss it, until you suddenly realize that everything around the view of the road has changed. When we lived in the Seattle area, the gloom in the “dark season” gnawed at many of us, with work and other obligations making the frequency of escaping it had to manage. Living now on the Eastern side of this, we have the benefit of sunny days that run together almost too long, but it means the rainy days become a welcome break and are to be enjoyed.
That said…good friends are worth crossing such a line, any day. We returned home, resolved to make that trip more often, which will give me more opportunities to explore the Thin Line that exists between these regions with more awareness and attention….at least as much as I can afford, while safely driving.
Tight lines.