The Road Less Traveled

Distance driven: 467 mi
Time including all stops: 13 hours 32 minutes

Mom and I got up at 7:00 a.m. and were immediately impressed by the complimentary, continental buffet breakfast at the Comfort Inn. Usually “continental” means juice, coffee, and bread. The Comfort Inn had all of that plus hardboiled eggs and make-it-yourself Belgian waffles.

After breakfast and check-out, we reloaded the car, which had been so completely packed by my brother we had to be careful to put our things back exactly where they were the day before to be able to see out the rear window. It was now nearly 9 a.m. We took I-15 to Brigham City, then took scenic Highway 89. We drove through Logan, a quaint town of red-brick buildings with storefront signs that looked 50 years old. We passed through a valley of farmland into an area of rocky hills dotted with evergreen trees. Along the road ran a small stream that glinted in the sunlight. On the other side of this range of hills was a valley which contained Bear Lake, a huge lake on the border of Utah and Idaho. It was surrounded by red-brown low hills. It reminded me of Lake Mead, Nevada.

Soon we crossed into Idaho. I didn’t take a picture of the “Welcome to Idaho” sign, or any of the state entrance signs. While it is a tradition to do so on road trips like this, I had been to all these states before and my mother doesn’t like having her picture taken. I did stop, however, to capture the “Welcome to Paris” sign. Unlike Paris, France, in Paris, Idaho we had to slow down and pass tractors on a two-lane highway.

Wyoming and the Grand Tetons

Our next state was Wyoming. Here, bigger hills were dotted with red rock and fir trees. There were also many beautiful horses. I was STUNNED to see llamas. At one overlook, I saw a llama cross the road as one had crossed in front of me in Machu Picchu. Even funnier, the scenery of the overlook reminded me of the Sacred Valley in Peru. But then, I’d heard from Kitty that people in America were buying llamas as a kind of investment and it makes sense that they’d do best in a similar environment.

We continued on Highway 89 until we got to Afton, home of a natural spring drinking fountain and the world’s largest elk horn arch (so said the signs on the arch and the drinking fountain). We browsed the wooden furniture store and an expensive Native American crafts store, then had lunch at the Golden Café. We sat at the counter even though it was in the smoking section of the restaurant. Mom had a patty melt, a classic diner/café grilled sandwich with a hamburger patty and onions in the middle. I had roast beef with gravy on toast and homemade French fries. It wasn’t healthy, but it was tasty comfort food in an atmosphere of coziness and community you can’t get in Los Angeles.

We got back in the car and drove through the Targhee National Forest, where we got our first glimpse of the Snake River. It was a lovely bluish-green color, almost aqua. Many people were rafting on it. We went through Jackson and into the Teton National Park. When we made it to Jackson Lake, I was disappointed that the Grand Teton Mountains weren’t snow-capped. But I had been in that part of the world in June of 2000, and this was August 2007. I imagine the time of year and progression of global warming made the difference.

Yellowstone

We pressed on and crossed the South Entrance of Yellowstone National Park around 5 p.m. As we drove over the winding road with a beautiful river dozens of feet below us, my mother started getting nervous again. I tried to apply my social work training to minimize her fear, but soon I would learn that everyone, including me, simply has their own unique set of limits.

Shortly after we turned on the road towards Old Faithful, we saw cars pulled over. This is usually a sign there are animals nearby. We pulled over and saw four elk. We got out of the car and I started taking pictures. Suddenly, one elk turned its head, looked straight at us, and started trotting towards us.

We all ran into our cars as quickly as we could. I was out of breath even though I’d only run 10 feet. I had thought the elk was going to maul me or gore me. As the elk walked peacefully by our car to eat some more grass, my mother said with the excitement of a child, “Cool!”

We drove on. Half an hour later, we were at Old Faithful, the geyser whose eruptions of hot water can be predicted within about 10 minutes. The sign at the Visitors Center for Old Faithful said the next eruption would be around 7:07 p.m. It was only 6:00 p.m. My mother didn’t want to wait around. We still had a lot of driving ahead of us, and she didn’t want us driving through the park at night.

It turns out, though, there are several other geysers around Old Faithful. We looked at a trail map and my mother saw a short hike to one of them. However, we ended up spending nearly a whole hour walking around to see as many geysers as we could. They were bubbling cauldrons of clear blue water over holes that must go to the center of the earth. We saw one erupt briefly (probably the Beehive Geyser). We smelled others that had large sulfur deposits.

We walked back to the Visitors Center to buy postcards (which, ironically, I never got around to writing let alone sending). It was nearly 7:00 p.m. As we were leaving the gift shop and entering the lodge lobby, we saw Old Faithful erupting through the huge bay windows. We headed for the door, but by the time we were outside, the geyser had finished exploding. I felt bad that my mother had not had the full Old Faithful experience, but she insisted she didn’t care about it, and had seen many other wonders in that part of the park.

We got in the car and headed toward the East Entrance. On the way, I saw two deer on our side of the road. I stopped to take their picture, then watched them walk slowly across the road. I was relieved—a minute later and I would have been slamming on my brakes to avoid hitting them. Deer are very solid and heavy; if I had hit one, my mother and I as well as my car could have been seriously injured. We saw a car stopped again, and across the road we saw a wolf. There was no way I was stopping to take that picture.

As we drove on, we passed a huge brown animal on the side of the road—a buffalo. We had no place to stop and take a picture, though. No matter—there was a whole herd about a mile ahead. Several buffalo were crossing the road. Others were grunting and rolling around in the dirt. My mother, who has read “Centennial” by James Michener, knew a lot about buffalo. She said they were gentle creatures, and were merely amorous and demonstrating their masculinity to the females in that moment.

We took several minutes to take in the unbelievable scene, then got in the car so we could drive on. The buffalo walked around us so closely we could have rolled down the window and pet them. I felt like my car was part of the herd. It was surreal. And it was definitely the highlight of the day if not the whole trip for my mother.

By the time we got past the herd, it was about 8:30 p.m. The full moon was starting to shine brightly in the sky, reflecting on Yellowstone Lake. By the time we got to the part of the East Entrance road that was under construction, it was totally dark. With our headlights, though, we were able to make out the sign “end pavement.” We panicked, but it turned out to be 7 miles of very smooth gravel road.

We finally made it to the East Entrance at 9:00 p.m. There was a sign saying that Cody was still 52 miles (83 km) off. It seemed a long way off so late at night, but we had to get there. We had hotel reservations, and if we cancelled we would still be charged for one night. Plus, we had a long drive the next day and couldn’t afford to lose the extra hour.

I had assumed that once we got out of the park, the drive to Cody would be easy. But in 2000 I did the drive from Cody to Yellowstone in the morning. It’s a different story from Yellowstone to Cody at night. The road was smooth, but it was a two-lane road. There were no streetlights, only thin rods with reflectors on them on the sides of the road. I drove with a very tight grip on the wheel while irritated South Dakotans sped around me.

Finally, we could see the city lights of Cody. We drove past the rodeo arena and the historic Irma Hotel to the Comfort Inn. It had taken us 3 hours to drive 116 miles (186 km). We climbed into our very comfortable beds for a good night’s sleep.

Distance driven: 694 mi
Time including all stops: 13 hours 59 minutes (includes one hour lost
for transition from Pacific to Mountain Time)

Miraculously, we left my mother’s house at 9:00 a.m. as planned. My mother took the first driving shift, because she knew a back road to the 14 Freeway. The alternate route may have been a little slower than the freeway, but there were fewer stoplights and no traffic. It was also amazing to see how close to L.A. one can see rural ranches with horses.

Not long after we got on the 14, we got off again at Pearblossom Highway. We drove past Hungarian sausage stands, Latin American artisan shops, date shake stands, and other oddities on the road. We got on Interstate 15 (I-15) in Victorville around 11:00 a.m. and enjoyed the endless desert horizon on the way to Las Vegas.

We stopped for lunch 8 miles (12.8 km) south of Las Vegas at the Silverton Casino and Lodge. We stopped there for a number of reasons. Las Vegas is a reasonable midway point between L.A. and Salt Lake City. It is also famous for massive buffet lunches at low prices. My friend Christie, who is a huge fan of the band Hootie and the Blowfish, had recommended it because it has a lounge filled with Hootie memorabilia. I had been there in June and found that it wasn’t as tacky or busy as the hotels on the Vegas strip.

My mother agreed to break her strict diet to enjoy the casino’s Seasons Buffet. It was an overwhelming all-you-can-eat feast of salads, pasta, carved meats, turkey with all of the Thanksgiving dinner trimmings, and seafood which, after all the fresh fish in Peru, made me decide to avoid eating fish in the desert in the future. The desserts were to die for, especially the blueberry pie with fresh blueberries and vanilla ice cream with bits of vanilla bean (a sign of authentic vanilla flavor).

We waddled out of the restaurant clutching our expanded stomachs and hit the road again. Once we got out of Vegas, there was nothing but open desert highway with not even a gas station for miles around. We were grateful that our friend Will had given us Isabel Allende’s novel *Portrait in Sepia* on tape to help keep us awake.

In the sliver of land of Arizona between Nevada and Utah, the landscape changed. There were hills of red rocks and roads winding through canyons that panicked my mother but to me seemed tiny compared to Machu Picchu. As dusk fell over Utah, the mountains in the distance took on a purple hue. I felt I was truly seeing purple mountain majesties that before I had believed were only part of the “America the Beautiful” songwriter’s imagination.

We drove on into the night, arriving at the hotel finally at 11:00 p.m. I called my friend Nicole, a former Peace Corps volunteer in Moldova who is now getting her Ph.D. at the University of Utah. I was too tired to drive back to downtown Salt Lake City, but she agreed to drive up to the hotel and hang out in the lounge to catch up. We had a nice visit, but I was ready to sleep when I crawled into bed at 12:30 a.m.

Once again, I've been on the move. It was time at the end of August to move to Philadelphia to start a Ph.D. program. Baby (my Honda) still had less than 100,000 miles on it, so I decided to ... [Continue reading this entry]