Everything needs a conclusion, a final period, a closure. That applies to movies, books, games, careers and life itself. As it turns out, it also pertains to travel. In August of 1972, I started a travel journey that didn’t conclude until a few weeks ago. It was a journey that spanned 50 years. Fifty years. That’s hard to believe, but it’s true. A little backstory at this point seems appropriate. My parents, born in the early portion of the last century, liked to travel. They mostly preferred states that were either bisected by the Rocky Mountains, touched by the Rocky Mountains, bordered the Rocky Mountains or had to be traversed…