Day One: Minneapolis to North Platte (634 miles, our longest day)
On the road right on time, 5:01 a.m. This is what I've looked forward
to for weeks. Zooming south on I-35 in the dark, a cup of dark roast in
the cup holder by my right hand. Peewee the Kiwi, acquired with the
last of our Kiwi dollars at the Auckland airport, rides the dashboard.
(He prefers the spelling, Piwi.)
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| Piwi the Kiwi leads the way to California |
(A click on any photo enlarges it to screen size.)
I've got Hubert Laws loaded on the CD player, but I prefer quiet to complement the darkness that surrounds us.
5:55 a.m. - We pass the Spam Museum, too early to visit. The time will never be right for me to visit the Spam Museum.
Soon, we approach the Primary Iowa Rest Stop. That's what it used to be called. Now it's Diamond Jo's Casino, all flashing lights and glitter. We are at an age where we're aware of so much that used to be.
Somewhere in Iowa, as we continue south on I-35, the sky lightens. Iowa takes shape all around us. Fields as far as you can see. Solitary lights mark farm houses in the distance. Here and there, a lone, bare tree.
7:30 a.m. Rest stop. Switch drivers. Feed and walk Rowdie. Fill the gas tank. 158 miles in the bank. Clouds and blue sky vie for dominance. The roads are dry. That's all that's important today. We left everything else that is important behind us when we pulled out of the driveway.
Here's something important that we're taking with us. Carol's CT scan last week showed no change. Carol's oncologist is pleased; she is stable, in the clear for now. We have three more months to not think about cancer. California here we come.
9:00 a.m. - We take a right at Des Moines on I-80. Heading west.
Welcome to Nebraska. The sign holds a hint of the American West. We're not there yet. We can't see it from here. But we can feel it. All morning we travel under gray skies, muted colors surrounding us. Shallow snow and deep brown earth swirl together in equal parts across the landscape.
Around lunch time the skies clear and the sun shines. The temperatures, after teasing us by rising and falling all morning, zoom into the fifties. The miles pass underneath us as we listen to "The Dog Who Knew Too Much" by Spencer Quinn.
We exit the highway at North Platte at 3:30. It is sixty degrees. We check in at the dog-friendly La Quinta and
head out for our traditional walk along the Platte River. Dinner tonight at Sip, a big city wine bar in a small town.
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| Out of the car after ten hours... |
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| ...and enjoying springlike temperatures along the Platte River |
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| The end of our first day on the road |
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Day Two: Crossing Colorado
Now we are in the west. Nebraska and its farms are behind us. The terrain is hillier, rougher, emptier. We pass the town of Lliff. Although we are not aware that we are climbing, when we pass through Denver we are 7,500 feet higher than we were at the start of the day. The foothills of the Rockies are brown and green; we don't see snow until the higher elevations, where the ski resorts are bustling with activity.
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| A rough patch, but not as bad as it looks. |
The weather turns ugly on the far side of the Continental Divide. The sun returns in due course. In Georgetown, we visit the Sergeant Greenleaf store, where we acquire some munchies to take the edge off later in the day.
Day Three: Wonderful, Wild Utah
We wake up to a clear night sky filled with bright stars, a thin pink line in the eastern sky. A good day in the offing. In minutes we're away from Grand Junction.
Soon, we enter Glenwood Canyon, a lovely stretch of road following a river through the canyon. We pass the town of No Name and emerge from the canyon. Minutes later, we enter Utah and the best part of the entire trip.
This stretch of I-70 through central Utah is wild and empty, over a hundred and fifty miles of flat, barren land bordered by distant mountains. The only signs of human presence are the highway itself and a wire fence that parallels the highway. I start the CD player, and Hubert Laws' incomparable flute carries us all the way past Green River and into the San Rafael Swell, a thirty mile swath of wilderness, where the land seems to have erupted from beneath the surface, creating jagged peaks and a helter skelter terrain. An informational sign at the Black Dragon view area informs us that the land drew indigenous people, prospectors, outlaws, cowboys, miners and Mormon pioneers. It held something for all of them.
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| San Rafael Swell |
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| Utah High Country |
From I-70 we turn onto I-15 south, and the temperature begins to climb. Winter is behind us now. Past St. George, Utah, with its palm trees and across a corner of Arizona, where we drive through Virgin River Canyon. The road curves and the canyon walls fall away. In front of us lies more open space - Nevada. Soon, the temperature reaches sixty degrees. Joshua trees dot the landscape.
Hoover Dam Lodge is a casino with hotel rooms barely adequate for catching a few hours sleep before getting back to the slots. We've gone out of our way to stay here because a big electronics convention in Las Vegas has caused a spike in motel rates. Can't wait to get back on the road in the morning. The best thing about this place is that, in the midst of all the flashing lights and cigarette smoke, the main floor holds dozens of old photographs documenting the building of Hoover Dam.
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| Lake Mead |
Day Four - California!
To get back to I-15, we must drive through Henderson, a busy, crowded suburb of Las Vegas. There seems to be no way to avoid Las Vegas and its sprawl on this route. We waste an hour winding our way through the congestion. Finally we're through it and on our way. A little before nine a.m. we enter California. We are still surrounded by vast, desolate, flat open space, but soon the rocky terrain gives way to lush grasses. Vineyards appear, along with orchards. We drive through the wine country surrounding Paso Robles and turn south on the 101. San Luis Obispo, 2,065 miles from home, awaits.
