Near the Central Valley, John and I leave the winding and scenic Pacific Coast highway for the long, fast, and straight interstate 5; endless miles in dry flat farm landscape, an infinite stream of headlights, big groaning semis, old school buses shuffling farm workers, tangled power lines, greasy food joints, chain motels, and truck stops. 
Signs cry out about water scarcity and the state’s allocation of water to farms–“Congress create Dust Bowl” and “Food grows where water flows.” 

When Muir walked through here it was “one enormous flower bed.” But over time agriculture has “ploughed and pastured this great wild meadow out of existence.” 

One thought on “I-5

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