THE ENCOUNTER - page 9

The Encounter

I set sail for the desert onboard a British Columbia ferry boat, and stood on the deck weighted down with canteens, back-packs and canvas boards. I held a tattered copy of Don Quixote in my hands and as the ferry glided down Long Harbour, away from my home on Salt Spring Island I whispered into the wind, "I too shall tilt windmills."

My plan was to crisscross the American Southwest by bus at night and to paint Franciscan missions by day. After two months I had perfected my technique - until that October Sunday morning when I got off the bus in Ash Fork, Arizona.

The bus pulled away and I was left standing in what appeared to be a deserted town, without a mission in sight.

I crossed the road to a dingy cafe located beside a vacant pool hall and an old fashioned wooden hotel, which was also vacant. There was a Greyhound sign above the pool hall window and as I neared the cafe a woman turned the open sign to closed and locked the door. I called out, "When does the next bus to Santa Fe come through?"

"Eight fifteen tonight." she barked. I was stunned. Twelve hours in what appeared to be a ghost town with closed shops, vacant hotels, caved in roofs, broken store windows, scattered floor tiles on the sidewalk, abandoned gas stations and what might be a cafe/saloon on a good day.

I felt disheartened until my eyes lit on a westbournd Route 66 sign. Route 66- a highway to adventure and I began to wonder what mine could be.

G.B. and the Strange Canadian Painter Lady
by Charlotte Madison and Nana Cook - copyright 1994