Day 1

Departure:

Left Oakley at 11:03. Scheduled departure was 9:30. To I-80, we pass down through Peoa, along the western shore of Rockport Reservoir, and into Wanship. I-80 East takes us around past Coalville, along the western shore of Echo Reservoir, then east towards Evanston, WY. This week, Summit County is every shade of green with grass, scrub oak and sage. As we near the Wyoming border, the hills become rocky and burnt orange. We are aiming for North Platt, NE, and I am haunted by childhood memories of I-80 through Wyoming (when Matt’s family annually drove from Denver to SLC); I remember it being brown and desolate and monotonous to the point that we were driven to counting train cars if we were lucky enough to see one. Hopefully, Wyoming is well photosynthesized today. We are going straight through.

Wyoming:

I was hopeful as we entered the state. It was green, overcast and cool. (see picture of car) We saw (between fireworks shacks) grazing sheep, real cowboys driving cattle along a fence line, and a cloud-crowded sky as vast as the ocean. But once you pass Little America (and associated childhood memories of 25 cent soft serve cones) the terrain starts to resemble the Moon, Afghanistan, or even Nevada. Driving down to eastern Arizona is similarly desolate, but more colorful –red especially– majestic, primordial. Wyoming, by contrast, might make a good bargaining chip in negotiations over wilderness preservation: Give us ANWR, Southern Utah, and the high desert of Arizona; and y’all can do whatever you want to Wyoming.

At a rest stop MTN2 is chasing black birds while I am holding HEN. MTN2 runs at the birds and they flutter away, except for one, which appears to be dead. He walks over to it and starts tapping at it with his bare toes. I would holler at him but I am paralyzed with disgust… oh, wait, it’s just a flip-flop sandal he’s toeing…in fact, it seems to be his… It must have fallen off when he was chasing the birds. I need prescription sunglasses.

We press on through Wyoming (the highway doesn’t offer many other options). I stand corrected about this fine state; the further east we go, the more variety we encounter. There is ankle-high sage covering the plain like a blanket of blue-green snow. There is a small antelope staring at the passing vehicles. As we approach Laramie, there are a couple of snow-capped mountains far off that stand alone on the prairie as if left behind when the rest of the Rockies migrated westward millennia ago. Laramie itself features a reasonable canopy of deciduous trees (I would like to see the college campus here sometime). And before we make Cheyenne, the grass I remember from Summit County, UT, reappears. There are strange rock formations North of the highway with splotches of pine trees here and there. I am wondering how much teachers are paid in Cheyenne.

NEBRASKA

The plains are green and rolling and for stretches, wooded. I ask SJZ if she were a cow wouldn’t she rather graze here in Nebraska than in Wyoming. There is so much grass that the median strip of the interstate is mowed. She says that it must be grassy here because all the cattle are in Wyoming.

We reach North Platte at 10:38 local. The kids desperately need rest, most of all HEN. It’s dark and we are not distracted by offers of Jacuzzi’s, pools or ESPN (if tonight were Game 2, maybe). We just want a bed. We land at a local place, not a chain. It’s a charming little dump with two queen beds. We’ll take it. We’re on schedule, the car is functioning and the boys have done well considering over ten hours strapped to a car seat. Tomorrow should be fine.