Wednesday, July 16, 2014
There is a stretch of I-5 between Bellingham and Vancouver, BC that offers a wonderful assault on the senses of pine and mountain and sea. And if you are lucky, also an incredible moonrise. When I waited tables and bartended in Seattle, we'd often take impromptu trips to V, BC [not unlike our midnight trips to the coast when I was in Newberg in highschool] and go through this stretch late at night. A potent time.
I don't know where Mr. Gibbard was when this song came into being, but I cannot hear it and not feel those mountains, the amazingly powerful smell of the evergreens and low tide minerality, and the mesmerizing undulation of the highway through the pass.