Day 27 - Home, Home Again...

Counting stars by candlelight,
All are dim but one is bright:
The spiral light of Venus,
Rising first and shining best.
From the northwest corner
Of a brand-new crescent moon,
Crickets and cicadas sing
A rare and different tune...
~Robert Hunter

27 Days
6,938 Miles
1 Flat Tire

It was a great trip, but it's still nice to get back to the Hollow.

Day 26 - The Kentucky Bourbon Trail

Tracey:
We got into Lexington late and will be leaving early, thus depriving Dave of an opportunity to tour the historic bourbon distilleries, of which there are several. Sorry, Rick, no Knob Creek gift pack for you.

Day 25 - Brats and Cheeseheads

Oh, God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son."

Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on."

God say, "No."
Abe say, "What?"

God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but

The next time you see me comin' you better run."

Well Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"

God says, "Out on Highway 61."
~Bob Dylan

Tracey:
Left South Dakota after stopping at a great coffee shop. We ended up speaking to the manager a bit while we were trying to get connected to their wi-fi network and when she found out that we had been traveling all over the west for the month she asked why. After she left, Dave noted that she was the first one in all this time who wanted to know why (most people assume that it’s for the fun of it once they hear you’ve been to a bunch of national parks). He said he wanted to be prepared with a good answer if someone else should ask; the one he came up with was “How about if you turn away with tears in your eyes, while I explain that your baby-daddy took your kid and that we’re driving all over trying to track him down and when we do we’re going to put a bullet in his head. And while we may die trying to get your child back, it’s better than sitting at home and dying slowly.”

This is the warped mind I’m cooped up in a car with for 8 hours a day….

We arrived in the land of cheese (crossing the Mighty Mississippi into LaCrosse, WI, after traveling for a few miles on Mr. Zimmerman’s historic highway along the bluffs overlooking the river on the Minnesota side), which also turned out to be the land of trees, which made us both very happy. Wisconsin is beautiful, even in the rain, every fall color in the spectrum on display. We’re staying in Madison tonight, though unfortunately it’s not the best weather for sightseeing. We wandered around downtown between the Statehouse and the University and stopped a couple and asked them where we should eat on our one night in town. They sent us to a brew pub called the Great Dane where we had the best brat and sauerkraut we’ve ever eaten (and some damn good West African groundnut stew as well). Everybody here seems friendly and laid-back, hope we can visit again. We were supposed to have two nights here, then two nights in Chicago and two nights in Lexington, KY, but we’ve decided to head home a little early due to the recurrence of my allergy. So we’ll miss Chicago completely and just do one night here and in Lexington. Dave seems to be taking it pretty well (at least I think he is, though he has taken to referring to me as “you hivey-ass bitch“), and we’re sure we’ll make it to Chicago sometime in the future.

One thing that has surprised us about these Midwestern states is that they all seem to have gambling. Somehow I had this squeaky clean image of Wisconsin and wasn’t expecting casino billboards (the prominent one we‘ve seen in WI is the Ho-Chunk, which seems to be Indian-owned, though there‘s no reservation. Buub, only you will understand, but Ho-Chunk is now a new vocabulary word. Think of the So-Hos, but from the other end). Perhaps I’m mistaken about the whole straight-laced thing, though, since it was in Wisconsin that we also saw a billboard for a gentleman’s club called Cruisin’ Chubbies.

The oh so bad lands

Day 24 - Santa on a Harley (not to be confused with Jesus on a Popsicle Stick)

Tracey:
We did a quick tour of the Black Hills and the Badlands before spending the rest of the day driving across the state. The Black Hills are named for the Ponderosa pines which cover them; the dark green needles look black from a distance. Though these tree-covered hills are certainly pretty, it seems that they are so exalted by the locals in part because both trees and hills are in such short supply. We took the twenty-mile scenic drive through Spearfish Canyon and detoured about a mile down a dirt road to see a waterfall. The waterfall was underwhelming, but we got to meet a Harley-riding Santa who was working as a caretaker there. He lives in Florida most of the year, but spends the summer in the Black Hills, living in his camper with his dog (he said he‘s been all over the country and spends his summers there because he thinks it‘s the most beautiful place he‘s been, including the Blue Ridge Mountains; we agreed to disagree on that point). During the winter he’s a professional Santa, working at a mall in North Carolina. Dave’s talked about growing his beard out once he starts turning completely gray because he’s read about what a good paying gig it can be; this Santa confirmed that, telling us that he signed up when a friend showed him his $42,000 after-tax paycheck for six weeks of work. They send you wherever they need you (including Hawaii and Scotland if you’re lucky) and they put you up in an efficiency apartment for the duration - your only expense is your meals. So if you see Dave looking shaggy in the near future, you’ll know why (can you say Funemployment, boys and girls? Ho-ho-ho!).

The Badlands were some kind of crazy Martian landscape, all wind-tortured mounds and layers of color. It was threatening rain so the colors didn’t jump out the way they would have if the sun was shining on them, but eerily beautiful just the same. Saw rattlesnake warnings, but no snakes were spotted (sorry, Jenn, no good action photos for you).

We’re in Sioux Falls for the night, the biggest city we’ve been in for weeks and from what we can tell, it’s the cultural oasis of South Dakota. But we got in late and it’s raining so we won’t be seeing too much of what the town has to offer.

Day 23 - Desolation Row

Tracey:
Today we said farewell to Montana. But before we left Bozeman we had one more tasty meal; we got a tip from a girl working at the Ale House last night regarding the best breakfast places and she didn’t steer us wrong. As we walked the few blocks to get there we picked up a group of folks from South Dakota who own a B&B near the Black Hills and spend the winters RVing south. They were looking for a good place to eat and tagged along with us; they tried to get us to join them for breakfast but table space was at a premium on a rainy Sunday morning. So we took the little table that was available and left them to their own company. A new rule for choosing restaurants while on the road: if they serve breakfast and have “Cat” anywhere in the name, it’s a good bet (and this is coming from avowed dog people). Two Cats in Bar Harbor was phenomenal and Cat Eye in Bozeman was just as good. We told the waitress that we’d been on the road for weeks and it was one of the best breakfasts we’d had; she passed it on to the cook who let out a big whoop and gave us thumbs up from the kitchen.

Then the long haul across the state, through Wyoming and into South Dakota. Muted shades of green and gray and yellow as far as the eye can see. One surprise has been how hilly the prairie is. Lots of contour, tawny grass and sage brush and nothing else (except wind - it‘s fairly constant out here and we’ve had a few 50+ mph days). Another surprise has been the ugliness of almost every area of human habitation. Montana and Wyoming are both studies in contrast -- gorgeous mountainous wild regions vs. drab, monotonous plains. The plains are unappealing enough on their own (after the first couple of miles anyway), but to make it worse, these sons of miners and cowboys and pioneers have survival and practicality hard-wired into them and beautification just doesn‘t enter into the equation. It’s all warehouses and aluminum buildings, heavy equipment and farm implements, oil refineries and stockyards. The houses and numerous trailers are purely functional and almost always surrounded by falling-down sheds, at least one ancient RV or/or boat, several cars or trucks waiting to be cannibalized for parts, and lots of junk (the very nice tree-lined neighborhoods seen in Missoula, Bozeman, Kalispell and Whitefish are the exceptions).

Tonight we’re in Deadwood, SD, which is an odd mix of gambling and history; the casinos have paid for the historic renovation (to the tune of $170 million), but it’s an uneasy marriage. The brick-paved streets and refurbished old hotels and saloons look great from a distance, but as you get closer you see that they’re filled with garish lights, slot machines, and lots of cigarette smoke. And gambling is truly the only game in town, as we discovered while trying to find a place to get a decent meal (defined as one which didn’t include an all-you-can-eat buffet). We ended up in the Deadwood Social Club, upstairs from the Saloon No. 10 where Wild Bill Hickok was shot and killed. Slightly shabby, filled with old photos of the town and its inhabitants back in the day, it served surprisingly good Northern Italian food. While the only dessert option is cheesecake, they offer over a dozen varieties (everything from coconut-almond to banana chocolate chip), all made from scratch by one of the owners. The milk chocolate walnut was the waiter’s favorite and after one bite we understood why.

Day 22 - Moose Drool, and Other Tasty Beverages

Dave:
Stopped off in Butte on our way to Bozeman, for the express purpose of sampling our first pasties (pronounced pass-tees; as the girl at the Town Talk Bakery told us, “Pasties are what strippers wear.”). Basically dough filled with meat, potatoes and onions, they’re a miner’s staple from the bygone era when Butte was arguably the premier mining town in the country, from the late 1800s until World War I, when its population was three times that which it is today. It was also home to the Dumas Brothel, considered the longest-running house of prostitution in America, operating legally from 1890 until 1982.

Unfortunately, the Town Talk had completely sold out of the daily supply, as it was homecoming in Butte (who knew?). Homecoming for what, we never found out, though it also begged the question: Why would anyone want to return to Butte? It seemed to be a really depressed area, with its best days well in the past, and an abnormally high number of “Horrors of Meth” billboards. I’m honestly not trying to beat the meth thing to death, and I realize it’s a problem throughout the country, but seeing the attention it gets out here, it must really be at a whole ‘nother level.

Anyhow, the girl at the Town Talk really wanted us to try our first pasties, so she sent us to another café in town, which turned out to have closed before we got there. So, after driving around the very unexciting town of Butte for thirty minutes, we cut our losses - still pasty-less - and headed to Bozeman, where we had a tasty dinner at Montana Ale Works (42 beers on tap, with over half from Montana breweries). Who needs pasties!

We’ve been very impressed with the quality and quantity of Montana microbrews (Big Sky Brewing Company‘s Moose Drool Brown Ale was near the top of the list), so MAW was like a celebration of the local bounty on our last night in Montana. And don’t worry, Josue, we’re bringing some of our favorites back with us!

Day 21 - Wile E. Coyote, Super-Genius

Dave:
Made it over to the east side of the park today - a long drive, but definitely worth it. State highway 49 was still closed, so had to take the extra-long way around, US 2 through the aptly named town of Browning (i.e. dull, dry, uninspired). The Many Glacier section of the park lived up to its name - glaciers everywhere (and lots of snow, too, over the past two days). Autumn is also in full swing up here, and much more colorful than anywhere else we’ve been (with lots of deciduous trees, which hasn‘t been the case elsewhere). Lots of coyotes, as well as mountain goats, though we didn’t see any Bighorn sheep. Oh, yeah, and the wind - so windy, in fact, that it was often difficult to steady myself to take pictures.

Headed back to Whitefish for the night (on the much calmer west side of the Divide), as we’d used up our three nights in the park. Not too disappointing, as we couldn’t get a decent meal at the lodge and had been really happy with the food in Whitefish (as well as the town). Stayed at a Super 8 which apparently had a meth lab in the basement. We checked in, then went to dinner. When we returned to the motel, there was an overwhelming chemical smell in the stairwell, which the girl at the front desk attributed to the hot tub. As it turns out, the Whitefish Super 8 runs the crystal trade along the US 2 corridor from Browning to Libby. Hey, at least the place didn’t blow up while we were there, so we had that going for us (which was nice).

Heading out in the morning for Bozeman, so the trip back east officially begins in less than twelve hours…

Day 20 - Cold Rain and Snow

I’m singin’ this borrowed tune,
I took from the Rolling Stones.
Alone in this empty room,
Too wasted to write my own…
~Neil Young

Dave:
Cold, windy, rainy, with six inches of snow on the east side of the Continental Divide. So we chilled in the room, catching up on some reading, and drove the 40 miles back to Whitefish for some real food (which has been sadly mediocre at the lodge). So I’m sitting in the Great Northern Brewing Company, enjoying a glass of their hoppy and refreshing Going to the Sun Pale Ale, which is about to be followed by a (hopefully) equally tasty Bear Naked Amber. Then it’s off to Tupelo Grille for dinner, a restaurant specializing in Cajun and Southern cuisine, that we hope is as tasty as it sounds.

Day 19 - Avalanche Lake

Dave:
Got a break from the rain, and hadn’t hiked for a few days, so we shook off the rust with a five-miler, along Avalanche Creek, through Avalanche Gorge, ending at Avalanche Lake. This was big-time grizzly country, but we saw nary a bear (nor any evidence thereof). The pictures don’t do it justice, but it’s an absolutely gorgeous glacier lake, with water as turquoise as the Gulf of Mexico.

We’re hoping to head over to the east side of the park tomorrow, weather permitting. They had four inches of snow last night/this morning, and Route 49 was closed. There’s only one road through the park, aptly named Going to the Sun Road, which crosses the Continental Divide at Logan Pass (6,466 feet). Unfortunately, it was closed for the season on Sunday, two days before we arrived, which turns a trip to the other side of the park from a 39 mile jaunt to a 141 mile trek. We’re hoping to pull it off, but it depends entirely on the weather at this point.

Day 18 - Antidote to Yellowstone

Tracey:
We made it up to Glacier, our most eagerly anticipated of the national parks, and after only half a day here we’re pretty certain it will be our favorite. The vibe is noticeably different from others we‘ve visited (actually that’s one of the cool things about the Park system - even parks that are so close that they rub up against each other - like Grand Teton and Yellowstone - have their own unique personalities). We immediately dubbed this the antidote to Yellowstone -- YNP was crowded, people did much more driving than hiking, and they drove as if they were back in the city; here, there were hardly any vehicles on the road, no “bear jams,” and the cars we did encounter drove slowly.

We arrived with the rain clouds and though Lake McDonald was a sheet of glass as we checked into our cabin, by the time we got our luggage unpacked the wind was blowing hats off and the lake had so many whitecaps it looked like a bay. It began raining pretty hard and we considered hanging out in the room, but since it wasn’t even three o’clock we decided that we’d be better off taking a drive, even if the visibility was limited. The woman at the front desk had given Dave a tip about a small town with a good restaurant and bakery along the border of the park, about 30 miles northwest of where we’re staying, so we decided to check out that part of the world.

What she failed to mention was that there are only two ways to get there - one route through the National Forest and one road through the park - and both involve unpaved washboard roads. We weren’t looking at a map and ended up on the route outside of the park and after dodging rocks and pummeling our kidneys for a couple of miles, we pulled out the map and saw that we had six miles of 10-mile per hour roads through the middle of nowhere (while the other road was unpaved for the entire 30 miles and only a single car width, so we’d inadvertently chosen the right one). We considered turning back since the Hyundai isn’t exactly an off-road vehicle and we figured we’d get there and be most under whelmed. But there wasn’t much else to do in the rain, so we kept on rattling along (which showed me that I am indeed my father‘s daughter - while I might not walk over hot coals and broken glass to get to a good bakery, I did risk having the fillings shaken out of my teeth). Much of the land on both sides of the road was completely burned in a fire in the late eighties, but unlike the fire-scarred areas of Yellowstone, lots of deciduous trees and shrubs are mixed in with the evergreens, filling in the bare spots with beautiful color. We also had a view of the northwest face of the mountains (a different perspective from our lakeside location) and saw our first snow-covered peaks, along with some glaciers.

We arrived in the town of Polebridge to discover that it wasn’t a small town with a restaurant and general store/bakery - the store and saloon were the town. Apparently during the big fire of 1988, the rest of the town burned down, but they were able to save those two buildings and a few houses. There’s also a few cabins that they rent out and that’s it. But as we stepped inside the Polebridge Mercantile, the pleasant surprises began - we were greeted by every good smell a bakery has to offer, along with a three-legged dog. Reggae was playing from the rear, there were various pleasant hippie-ish folks working there, and they even had wi-fi (when we asked about wi-fi at the lodge, they just kind of laughed). They bake everything from scratch each day and had about a dozen different croissant, sticky bun, sweet roll sorts of things, and almost as many varieties of cookies. As we struggled to decide what to order (“one of everything“ wasn‘t an option), we wondered how they could possibly sell all of this stuff in such a remote location, but apparently word travels, as folks steadily trickled in. We finally chose three of the croissant-type concoctions: jalapeno/artichoke/cheddar/mango salsa; spinach/garlic/blue cheese/poppy seed; and chocolate/ricotta. Then we decided that since we’d made it this far, we’d hang around until the Northern Lights Saloon opened and have dinner there, showing great restraint by eating only one of the pastries and using the opportunity to go online (gotta love that wi-fi!), tweak our lodging reservations, and gain an extra night in Glacier (there‘s a decent chance of rain the next couple days, and it‘s supposed to be lovely on Friday, the day we were originally scheduled to leave).

So five o’clock found us waiting outside of the very rustic Northern Lights Saloon, along with a few other people who’d washed up on its shores in a similar manner. As the space is tiny, it ended up being a party, everyone sharing tables (there were only four, with 20 chairs) and swapping stories. They had Willie Nelson on the stereo, a full bar and about 6 items on the menu of the day. We had blackened trout with veggies and a coconut shrimp curry and Moose Drool beer and apple pear pie for dessert. We met two couples from Chicago (one is expecting to spend the day with us when we pass through next weekend on our way home - don‘t worry, Mom, we don’t think they’re swingers), some folks from Duluth, and shared a table with a couple from Phoenix. Today was our wedding anniversary (14 years, hard to believe) and we’d said earlier in the trip that maybe we’d treat ourselves to a more expensive dinner that night, but this place was perfect and much more memorable. Saw a big old black bear hustle across the road on the way back and sunlight gracing the distant peaks; this detour was definitely the way to spend a rainy afternoon.

Day 17 - Movin’ Through Montana

Tracey:
Drove a few more hours north this morning to arrive in Kalispell, about 70 miles from the Canadian border. Glacier National Park is less than an hour away and we could’ve gone straight there instead of spending a night here, but though the National Parks are the highlight of this trip, we wanted to actually experience some of the towns in each state and Kalispell was one mentioned on FindYourSpot.com. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the site, it asks you a whole bunch of questions about your living preferences and then gives you a list of 24 towns/cities that seem to be a good match for you. When Dave and I first did it (independently of each other), we both ended up with lots of towns in New England and the Pacific Northwest. Surprised that we didn’t receive any matches in the west, I went back and changed a few of my answers to skew toward the snowier climes and Kalispell was one of the places that eventually came up.

Now that we’ve been here, it’s a little too small for us and the downtown doesn’t have enough going on, but the people of Kalispell have made us feel very welcome. Whitefish, a ski town about 15 miles north, is a little more our speed and we had a great meal there at Pescado Blanco. Dave had pheasant enchiladas with a peanut mole and a delicious Mexican chocolate cake --- like I said, our kind of place (a shout out to our very cool servers, Sara and Andrew - they were an added bonus to the meal and Andrew‘s from Chicago, so he kindly wrote down the museums and blues clubs we need to check out when we get there).

The best news of the day was that we don’t have to cut our trip short - I’ve been plagued by some kind of allergic reaction for most of the trip which has resulted in hives and I’ve been itching my way across the west. Benadryl was doing the trick initially, but that gradually stopped working and it was getting to the point where hiking and sleeping were getting increasingly difficult. I had them head to toe, though fortunately they weren’t too obvious on my face, other than the one day that my lip was pretty swollen and it looked like Dave popped me one (not helped by him saying loudly “I told you, don’t sass me!” whenever anyone looked my way). Anyway, it had gotten so bad that we were considering cutting the trip short (which seemed ridiculous - for pneumonia, maybe, but hives? But the whole point of being out here was hiking and I was itching so bad I didn’t want to move!), but I called my doc back home and he hooked me up with the good drugs and I’m already feeling better. So, Mom and Dad, no reprieve, the dog’s yours for two more weeks!

Day 16 - Mountains of the Moon

Cold Mountain water,
The jade merchant’s daughter.
Mountains of the Moon,
Electra,
Bow and bend
To me.
~Robert Hunter

Tracey:
As Dave mentioned in an earlier entry, Yellowstone is sprawling, so we spent our first two days in the park on the lower loop. This morning as we left the Park we were able to drive through half of the upper loop and the scenery was even better, less plains and more mountains. Saw a good-sized black bear en route, then stopped by Mammoth Hot Springs to see the geothermal features known as travertine terraces. Very trippy and lunar…

Then we drove 6 hours north to the land of Big Sky. Colorado and Montana are the two states we were most looking forward to seeing and the ones we’re spending the most time in. Unfortunately it’s still wildfire season in this part of the world and the risk is currently listed as extreme. Fires in Idaho are sending their smoke this way and the visibility was minimal much of our way, but we’ll be heading back through the state when we’re done in Glacier and hopefully the smoke will have cleared by then.

We’re spending the night in Missoula, home of the U of M and one of Montana’s larger cities at close to 60,000. It’s definitely a college town, apparently famous for its love of festivals (this weekend alone there was a Hemp Fest, German Fest, and Roots Music Fest), so folks here know how to have a good time. Even the nearby county gets into the act - we passed a billboard for the Testicle Festival (“Come and Have a Ball”) where they feast on those down-home favorites, the Rocky Mountain Oysters.

Missoula also has a decent number of bars and restaurants; the guide book we have mentioned two that sounded great, but they’d already gone out of business. So we ended up at one we probably wouldn’t have chosen otherwise and it was one of those lucky twists of fate. Tipu’s Tiger is the only vegetarian Indian restaurant in Montana and it was the best Indian food Dave’s had since spending time in India. Very liberal use of chiles, excellent homemade chutneys and unusual dishes, with cardamom pineapple coffeecake for dessert that was so good that we’re considering writing the owner and seeing if he’ll part with the recipe.

Day 15 - Oo-ooh, That Smell!

Tracey:
So Yellowstone is starting to grow on us, now that the smoke has cleared and we’ve seen more of the park than geysers and mud pots. Not that the geothermal features aren’t interesting and unique, but hot stink isn’t what I drove 3,000 miles to experience (and the word stink doesn’t even begin to cover Mud Volcano - they need to invent a new word for that one). But Lake Yellowstone is lovely and the big bad bison are comical - they snort and grunt like pigs, go wherever they damn well please (this morning when we got back from breakfast we saw a woman staying in a nearby cabin who, from the looks of it, stepped onto her porch to head out for breakfast and found that she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon because she was in the middle of a herd - huge brown bodies surrounded her cabin while she looked on, dumbfounded), and though they cover the plains in much smaller numbers than they did in the old western days, they still invoke those wilder times.

Today we checked out the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, which is about 900 feet deep and a half mile wide, with the Yellowstone River falling dramatically down the rock and racing along the bottom. Every bit as dramatic as the geysers and more to our liking.

We’ve eaten every meal here at the Park, at the Yellowstone Lake Hotel restaurant - very good food and one of the things that’s been fun about the meals here is the staff, which come primarily from overseas. We’ve had several servers from Poland and the Czech Republic, and have seen other staff from Singapore and South America. They seem to be leading exciting lives - after their season at Yellowstone at least a few of them blow their hard earned money on seeing other parts of the U.S. - two of the Polish servers we spoke to were heading to Hawaii, and one of them was doing his third summer in Yellowstone and each year he manages to see more of the country (far more than we’ve seen). We’ve also noticed huge numbers of foreign-speaking tourists throughout this park (more so than in the others), so much so that at some of the overlooks or other places we’ve stopped, we heard all languages except English. It’s good to know that they’ll be taking back descriptions of our country that counter those of Hollywood, but as extreme as the landscape is here, this isn’t very representative either.

Bison grazing along Lake Yellowstone

The Yellowstone River

Day 14 - Interview with a Geyser

Note: The following interview was conducted with select hydrothermal features in the Upper Geyser Basin. Old Faithful, on the advice of its agent, declined comment.

DaveD: Describe a typical “day in the life” at Upper Geyser Basin.

Anemone Geyser: Each day is really unique - different folks, different reactions, different weather can all cause us to behave in different ways. We really like to play to the crowd. I recall this one Saturday back in June of ‘97...

Plume Geyser (interrupting): Each day is really unique? I don‘t think so! I’ll tell you how it is: folks walk up to the visitors’ center, check the predicted eruption time for that prima donna over there, stand around getting their cameras ready, waiting for the show. Then they take lots of pictures that’ll all look the same in the end, and, once it’s over, they all clap and hoot and holler like a panda just gave birth in captivity. And only then, just maybe, they’ll take the time to actually walk a bit and see what the rest of us have to offer.

Beehive Geyser: I hear that! One of these days, that old bitch is gonna run outta steam; then the rest of us’ll get our due. I still don’t get all the fuss - where’s the spontaneity? Predictable is boring, if you ask me.

PG: Who cares about predictable - we’re not in Switzerland!

AG: I think you’re missing the point. Americans like dependability. It’s like that Chevy trucks commercial with the song by John Mellencamp.

Lion Geyser: Don’t get me started. Thanks to that over-played ad, I turned off the TV in the middle of the Super Bowl. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I’m a Colts’ fan. And it ain’t like O.F. is all that predictable, anyhow. There’s a ten minute margin of error either way. Go in the visitors’ center and look it up. I’m telling you, that’s one over-rated geyser, right there.

DD: Perhaps I’m detecting a bit of jealousy here. Is that a fair statement?

LG: Look, Bud, here’s how it is: that old bag ain’t the tallest, ain’t the most colorful, ain’t even the busiest. You got Grand Geyser, the tallest-spouting predictable geyser in the world. Grand Prismatic, just up the road, is one of the loveliest of our kind. Crested Pool is almost constantly boiling, not waiting an hour between activity. And Riverside Geyser erupts for twenty minutes at a time. Now that’s stayin’ power, baby!

BG: I’m telling you, if I knew it was all about having an agent, I would’ve signed up long ago.

(Ed. Note: Several mud pots, requesting anonymity, nodded in agreement, and the interview came to an abrupt end when DD was nearly scalded by an angered Giantess Geyser.)

Day 13 - Crosstown Traffic

Dave:
So we head out of Grand Teton on a hazy morning, wondering what’s up with the weather. It doesn’t improve as we cross the border into Yellowstone, where we learn that three wildfires in the Southeast area of the park are to blame. We’d planned our first hike in that area, and the trails are still open, though a grizzly in the vicinity has that section of the park under additional scrutiny. So we head over toward the Absaroka Range, where the smoke is so bad that we decide that a three-hour plus hike in it isn’t the best idea.

The thing about Yellowstone that we quickly find out (as compared with Rocky Mountain and Grand Teton) is that the park is HUGE. You typically have to drive more than a few miles to get from “point of interest A” to “point of interest B.” Not that there isn’t cool stuff to see along the way, but you’re definitely putting some miles on the car; you, and everybody else. And in no time at all I feel as though I’m back in Charlottesville, where the “driving impaired” go to die (or breed others in their own image). People pull out right in front of you, ignore the use of turn signals, stop in the middle of the road for no reason - but the best part is when they pull over to view an animal, especially bison, which are to Yellowstone what elk are to Rocky Mountain NP and Estes Park. These things are literally everywhere, like cows in India (Abby and Amanda know what I‘m talking about). And for every bison in view, there will be two dozen cars slowing down/stopping in the road/pulling over but not really pulling over and out come the cameras. In Grand Teton it was humorous; here, it’s like tourism run amok!

And as much as folks are warned (signs are so numerous as to appear redundant), somebody (a “touron” in the jargon of the park staff) is walking right up to the animal, camera in hand, ready to get their “shot of a lifetime.” We keep waiting for the eventual goring, camera at the ready, to get our own “shot of a lifetime.” I’m telling you, these things are bigger than the Hyundai, and probably a bit heavier, too. What we really need is an EarthRoamer XV-LT, which greets me (and a few other awestruck folks) at the Grant Village Visitors’ Center. It’s like the monster truck of campers. This baby would be as at home on the Serengeti Plain as in the Alaskan Tundra. It’s built on a Ford Super Duty F-550 4WD cab chassis (I didn’t even know Ford made a F-550), with an integrated truck camper, 22 inch tires on 10 lug wheels, a triple hitch receiver, heavy duty winch, and all-around bad-ass attitude. I was surprised it was only packing a V-8 (I thought the Triton V-10 would be more appropriate), though I suppose fuel economy is an issue. If we hit the lotto out here, guess what’s coming back to C’ville?

Day 12 - Good ol’ Beaver Dick

Tracey:
Not much energy to write tonight since we did a 13 mile hike from shores of Jenny Lake (named after the wife of the famous -- in these parts anyway -- trapper, “Beaver Dick” Leigh. That sounds like a name out of one of Dave’s vignettes, but apparently it’s for real) way up into Cascade Canyon. It was a beautiful hike with a clear view of a glacier, a high point which overlooked the lake, a pond where a female moose was having breakfast, and of course the cascades for which the canyon was named, but the last mile was a bitch. Glad to have been spared the embarrassment of Dave having to carry me back.

Day 11 - Lindsay Lohan of the Animal Kingdom

Tracey:
Saw our first grizzly today - from a distance however, so there’s no cause for alarm, Mom. It was happily digging for grubs (or whatever grizzlies eat that requires digging) in a meadow on the side of the road. Once it was spotted a car pulled over to get a better look, then another, then before you knew it traffic was stopped in either direction and people were standing on the side of the road gawking and snapping pictures and doing all the ridiculous things that humans tend to do. Actually, for a crowd of humans they were fairly well-behaved -- speaking quietly and trying to watch respectfully. This was the third time we’ve found ourselves in this kind of situation - the traffic isn’t moving, so you hop out and watch along with the crowd, feeling like dirty paparazzi, but also finding something neat about the fact that in this jaded television/computer age people can get so excited about seeing an animal. The saving grace was that the bear didn’t seem to give a crap about the crowd, never looked up from his digging or glance their way.

Both of us are feeling sluggish today, probably the result of too much heavy food and 2500 miles on the road, so we did an easy 6 mile hike around another lake today (our only wildlife encounter there was a coyote). Fortunately, our lodge for the next couple of nights is one of the nicest places we’ll be staying (so we can kick back and get a good night’s sleep) and we’re able to eat better meals - all of the lodges in this park are operated by different companies and this one is very Green - organic food abounds, everything hormone/antibiotic free, fair trade, etc. We didn’t know that when we booked it, but after last night’s much-needed salad we’re glad that this is where we ended up. It’s great to see all the effort they’ve put into not only providing guests with places to recycle and that sort of thing, but educating them as well. Plus they play good music in the restaurant - at dinner yesterday we were surprised to hear nonstop Dead. Since we were there early and were the only ones eating who didn’t have an AARP card we don’t know how the rest of the guests felt, but we made sure to thank one of the groovers on staff for their fine musical selection.

Day 10 - How do you say “Mambo Titties“ in French?

Well, I stand up next to a mountain,
And chop it down, with the edge of my hand.
Well, I stand up next to a mountain,
And chop it down, with the edge of my hand.
Well, I pick up all the pieces
And make an island,
Might even raise a little sand.
~Jimi Hendrix

Dave:

Not sure if Jimi was referring to the Grand Tetons, but if he was, he must have been feeling bold, bold as love (just ask the axis). These are some bad-assed mountains, rising from the valley floor like craggy, gnarled fingers trying to kiss the sky (ed. note: Hendrix reference trumps mixed metaphor). The name of the range roughly translates to “Large Breasts,” en francais. Which got me to thinking of ways that the name could be exploited, and I figured that some enterprising guy (or gal) had certainly come up with the idea for a “Grand Tetons of Jackson Hole” swimsuit calendar/poster/video. So I scoured downtown Jackson in search of such an item, determined to find one for Dad in an attempt to cheer him up while we wait for the Irish offense to finally score a touchdown one of these weeks. But alas, my search was in vain, and we decided to venture into Grand Teton National Park to get an up close and personal look at the namesakes themselves.

While hiking around String Lake, we met Louis and Clarke (slight return), a couple from Missouri. I believe she was an aroma therapist, and I recall him mentioning something about ball bearings. Anyhow, we ended up talking and hiking with them for quite some time, getting along quite well, and finally got around to talking about lodging, and they mentioned that their cabin had a massive stone fireplace, a hot tub and a bearskin rug, and how they‘d really like it if we came by and helped them drink a bottle of 15 year old Laphroaig that they‘d been saving for a special occasion. Now thanks to the esteemed congressman from Idaho, I know much more than I ever did about cruising in public restrooms for gay sex. But I’ve gotta admit, I’m really at a loss when it comes to swinging. I mean, what’s the etiquette? It’s not like there’s a stall where I can slide my foot under. Do we need to bring refreshments? How do you dress? Feeling much like the amateurs that we are, we spent a quiet night in our own cabin, likely never to see Louis and Clarke again. So if there’s anyone out there with any “tips for swingers” (ask around the neighborhood, Regina), please pass them along. We head for Yellowstone next, and there are plenty of hot springs, so we’ve gotta be prepared.

Tracey:
Frost on the pumpkin! It was 27 degrees here this morning and we had to scrape the car windows before venturing out for coffee.

We’ve been having problems connecting to wi-fi since we left Estes Park - tried three different places and though we got a strong signal, it wasn’t giving us internet access. Worried that it was our computer, we stopped by a computer repair place in Jackson and met a very nice guy there named Dave who checked it out for free, assured us that it wasn’t our computer, told us to quit our jobs and then high-fived us when we told him we already had.

Sign in a Jackson store window: “Unattended children will be given espresso and a free puppy.” I saw a nice T-shirt that would’ve looked good on you, Dad, but thought you’d be hesitant to wear anything that said Hole on it, Jackson or otherwise.

Arrived in Grand Teton National Park and stopped at the first Visitor Center to get our bearings. Our friend Adam had told us that his folks were working in the Park this summer, but we had misplaced his email and weren’t sure where in the Park or what their names were. As we checked out the Visitor Center we saw a woman who seemed to be the right age, but her nametag only gave her first name. Dave figured it was worth a shot and walked right over and said “Hi, are you Adam’s mom?” and damned if she wasn’t - found her on our very first try. She gave us some good tips, including directions to her favorite fly fishing stream. Since we got settled in at Signal Mountain Lodge later in the day, we only had time for a short hike around one of the smaller lakes.

At dinner we were seated at a table that was fairly close to the neighboring table and overheard the server asking the older couple seated there where they were from. They said Virginia and she said “Charlottesville by any chance? My fiancée’s mother and sister live there and we just went and visited them.” As it turned out, they were from Northern Virginia, not Charlottesville, but their son went to UVA and we ended up talking with them through the rest of dinner. They were around 70 and as recently as 5 years ago had been really into biking (when 9/11 happened they were crossing the Danube following a bike tour of the Alps). So far it’s been that kind of trip, meeting people every step of the way that have some kind of Virginia (or New Jersey) connection: the waiter in Estes Park had a sister living in Midlothian close to my parents; a local guy in Colorado who stopped to elk-watch with us has a brother who works for MicroAire in Charlottesville; a couple we spoke at length with over breakfast lived within a couple of miles of where Dave grew up in West Trenton; the librarian in Grand Lake who was trying to help us with our wireless connection asked us where we were from and when we said Charlottesville he said that his wife was there visiting her family that very day. So we’ve met lots of great people and Dave has earned the new nickname Davey DeGregarious….

Day 9 - Yippee-ki-yi-yay, We’re in Wyoming!

Tracey:
So long Colorado, it’s been fun. We left town as the sun was rising over Grand Lake, then drove 90 minutes to Steamboat Springs, where we descended like a pack of ravenous wolves and gorged ourselves on breakfast at the Creekside Café - it’s good to be back in civilization! A chile you’d be relleno stuffed with asiago cheese plus hash browns and black beans all covered with a really spicy green chile stew, French toast with cinnamon cream cheese - these folks clearly understand that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Then we drove about a quarter of the way across Wyoming and two-thirds of the way up it and concluded that the cornfields of Kansas were a lot more exciting. Until we got fairly close to Jackson, the land stretched out as far as the eye could see in every direction, nothing but sagebrush. Every once in a while you’d see about 5 cows. Then twenty miles and perhaps there’d be another few cows. We had no idea it was so desolate. The ground is sandy, there are some dusty yellow flowers among the sage brush and the land is hilly in places, but mostly it’s empty and dry. There were towns here and there along the way - places like Eden, with a population of 200, which was so scary that it made Columbia, VA look good (if this is their idea of Eden, they really need to get out more).

We finally began seeing some pronghorn antelope and that livened things up a bit. Then blue mountains in the distance, a creek then a river, and all of sudden the true Eden was upon us. We’re spending the night in the Jackson Hole area - it’s too expensive to even bother going into the shops (just for fun I picked up the local real estate guide and the first page I flipped to featured at least six houses that were $7 million plus), but we found a great restaurant owned by three local chefs and treated ourselves to one more really good meal before heading off to a week of National Park adventures.

Day 8 - Prehistoric Meadows

Tracey:
Well, we’re even less enamored of Grand Lake now than we were yesterday - no decent food to be found (not that we were expecting another Lucille’s but how hard is it to make a decent egg sandwich?). But the scenery is gorgeous and that’s what brought us here. We hiked 11 miles today, from one edge of Grand Lake to the top of a mountain where another lake awaited. The trail meandered along a river, past waterfalls, across ridges, over rocky ledges and we ended the hike at Lone Pine Lake. The best part was a section that went through a meadow that was so pristine it felt prehistoric; we were told that moose frequent it, but a brontosaurus wouldn’t have seemed out of place. Saw plenty of bear tracks and scat, but no actual bear.

Not to sound like one of those goofy movies they show at the Parks’ visitor centers, but I have to say that I’ve been very aware since coming out here of what a gift the national park system is to this country. We were over five miles into our hike today, up very steep terrain and there were beautifully built log bridges and steps of cut rock where you’d least expect it. I said “Man, the amount of work it took to build and maintain these trails…” and Dave said, “I was just thinking the same thing.” All along the way we’ve seen people that you’d never expect to see this far out in nature (well, not as far out as this trail was, but on the easier hikes)-- from people in their 80’s, to families with infants, women all done up and looking like they were going to a Pilates class in Manhattan, older guys who you’d guess have never been off the farm in Kansas, and all fitness levels. It’s great to see nature bringing them all together!

Day 7 - Across the Great Divide

Tracey:
Today we drove from the east side of Rocky Mountain National Park to the west side - it’s only about 45 miles, but the road is narrow, steep and slow (slow if you value your life since the road crosses the Rockies at 12,300 feet and in many places there are no guard rails and sheer drops only inches away). Since it is also Rt. 34 and not just a National Park road, there are trucks and buses up there and some of them were driving a hell of a lot faster than we were. They were also repaving the road in sections and it was pretty wild to watch those guys maneuver huge pieces of equipment along those edges.

The road’s highest stretch is far above the tree line and surrounded by tundra. We parked and hiked a couple of miles out, with views that could have easily been in Afghanistan or Nepal. Some of the lichen on the rocks is over a thousand years old and the entire landscape is very fragile in that it takes forever for the various plants to regenerate once they are damaged, so it was frustrating to see people going off the trail and roaming wherever they pleased, ignoring the many signs that specifically said not to. We heard lots of pica chirping (they’re rodents that are related to rabbits but look more like prairie dogs) but they were either so well hidden or camouflaged that we didn’t see any. Along various trails and overlooks there were places to stop and read about the terrain, wildlife, etc. Some included photos of the surrounding mountains, naming them and pointing out the various glaciers; what was absolutely clear at a glance was how quickly the glaciers are disappearing. In places where they were a primary feature of the landscape they now look like a patch of dirty snow. Sobering…

We crossed the Continental Divide and then down into Grand Lake which is, sorry to say, not too grand. It’s the largest natural lake in Colorado, but it‘s fairly small in size and the town is only about 4 blocks long (the “downtown” area stretches along Grand Avenue which was built back in the 1800’s - they made it 100’ wide so that the town could hold rodeos and other functions in the street, including bear roasts - or so says the commemorative plaque). This time tomorrow we may be ready to roast our own bear since the restaurants don’t look too exciting. One thing I do like about the town is all of the great log buildings - everything from the library to the public restrooms, to the banks and boathouses at the marina are made of gorgeous logs and river stone.

Royale with Cheese

Dave:
Last Pulp Fiction reference, I promise, but it’s true that the more you travel around the country, the more you begin to notice the little differences that exist among regions. Example: remember the Partnership for a Drug-Free America commercials? Back East, it seems like every time you see one it’s about kids smoking pot. There was the “Nothing Happens with Marijuana” theme with the slackers, the kid who goes to pull out his stash only to find a “We need to talk” note from Mom (though we’re never told whether Mom smoked, sold, or trashed the stash), you get the idea. Well, out here, the only PfaDFA ad I saw was really dark and depressing, showing a tiny green seed sprouting in this desolate landscape, with a voice-over by a young man describing how using Meth almost killed him, and how it’s only with the love and support of his family that he’s finally turning the corner. No slackers, no kids playing video games jonesing for some of the stash that Mom stole. Just this depressing, ominous message about the evils of Meth. Which got me to wondering just how many Aryan youth they have out here, hanging out in a trailer, snorting Crystal off a PBR mirror, giving each other jailhouse tattoos while listening to speed metal, and grinding their teeth down to the approximate size of shoe-peg corn kernels. Not to bum anyone out or anything. Hey, I went hiking, and forgot all about it (until just now). And, as I promised earlier, no more Pulp Fiction references, unless I happen to have a really tasty, $5 milk shake. Deal.

Elk among the aspens...

Day 6 - The Rut Is On!

Tracey:
Made our first foray into Rocky Mountain National Park and before we’d gone many miles we were greeted by an elk herd, a big bull and his harem who grazed and napped away, oblivious to all of the awestruck humans.

It was a beautiful day when we left the trailhead, low 70s and sunny, and we hiked a mile up to Alberta Falls, then another mile toward Bear Lake. But with another ½ mile to go the sleet began and after hunkering down under a rock ledge for a while, we conceded to Nature and headed back to the car. We were soaked by the time we got back, but definitely invigorated!

This evening we drove to the Baldpate Inn on the outskirts of town for the all-you-can eat soup-salad-and-homemade-bread that they’re famous for. It was great to stuff ourselves with fruit and vegetables, but the Inn itself was the real treat. The building is from the turn of the century, very rustic with great views, and has been used as a hotel (now bed and breakfast) ever since, hosting the likes of Mae West, Betty Grable, Jack Dempsey, and Gregory Peck. On the way back we swung through town and detoured around the Stanley Hotel (where The Shining was filmed) and then we were planning on heading back out to the Park to see if we could see more elk - September is prime elk-viewing season since they are mating, and we’d read that if we were lucky, we’d be able to hear the males bugling to their harem. As we left the Stanley to head through town, however, a herd crossed the road right in front of us and settled in - moms, babies, and big daddy himself, who bugled for us and posed for pictures.

On to the western side of the park tomorrow, Grand Lake.

Day 5 - Peak to Peak

Tracey:
Breakfast at Lucille’s even surpassed yesterday’s - beignets and this incredibly decadent rice pudding made with sticky rice and cream and topped with raspberry sauce and currants, among other things. Then we headed across town to Whole Foods to get a few supplies and while we were there ran into someone we knew - the daughter of some folks we hang out with in Maine every summer (we knew she lived in CO, but not Boulder and had no idea she worked at WF). She was as pleasantly surprised by the small world thing as we were and sent us off with a complimentary bag of cookies.

Then we drove to the little hippie town of Nederland, took a quick tour, then headed on up to Estes Park (elev. 7,500 feet) via the Peak to Peak Scenic Byway; the town borders the northeast section of Rocky Mountain National Park. The town is actually better than the guide books led us to believe - there’s a nice little downtown area with its share of tacky little tourist shops (which makes us feel like we’re at the beach, what with the taffy and kettle corn and gaudy key chains) but also nicer shops and cafes and a gorgeous backdrop every way you look.

Since it was too late in the day to do much in the way of hiking, we detoured over to Fort Collins, home of Colorado State, to see what that had to offer. The ride was the best part, along the scenic Big Thompson River and cutting through a steep canyon, but Fort Collins was lots of retail and development (though Old Town had its charms).

Day 4 - A Little Taste of New Orleans in Boulder

Tracey: While we’re trying not to bore our dear readers with detailed descriptions of lodging and meals, there are some that rate a mention and Lucille’s is one of them. A New Orlean’s inspired breakfast and lunch place, the menu is not only inventive, but they do everything from scratch - smoke their own sausage, grind their own chicory to add to their own coffee blend, make their own syrup and preserves, and on and on. There’s no question where we’ll be tomorrow morning!

So today was the day to start getting acclimated to the altitude. We hiked a couple of miles along the Enchanted Mesa trail - we were planning on doing a bigger loop but that was closed due to bear activity, so we did the shorter one. It was around 90 degrees, but we weren’t bothered by the heat or the height. We didn’t see any sprites or wood nymphs (much to Dave’s dismay, I’m sure) so I’m not sure what was so Enchanted about this particular Mesa, but it was nice to stretch our legs after 3 days in the car!

In the afternoon we hiked 4 miles along Boulder Creek; Boulder has a beautiful trail, partly gravel and partly paved, that runs 9 miles through the city and into the outskirts. Our hotel is at one end of the trail, so we trekked into town and back. Would have enjoyed one more day in this area, but it’s already time to be moving on….

Day 3 - I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

Tracey:

Finally, the mountains we’ve been driving all this way for! First stop was our hotel, the very cool Boulder Mountain Lodge - one of the most affordable places we could find, so we were very psyched to discover that it’s a gorgeous two mile drive outside of Boulder - cutting through a canyon and following the tumbling Boulder Creek - and tucked right up against a very steep hillside, peaceful and lovely. The room has skylights and a small kitchen and is perfect as home-base for a couple of days.

We had only enough time after driving 8 hours to grab dinner and stroll around town. We had dinner at the Boulder Dushanbe Tea House, a present from Tajikistan to Boulder that is representative of tea houses there, complete with carved cedar posts and elaborately painted ceilings and walls. The building was so unique that it was worth a meal there (though the food was fine it wasn’t all that exciting). We walked off dinner by strolling through Boulder’s version of Charlottesville’s Downtown Mall. Between that and the college town vibe, this is feeling a lot like home.

Day 2 - Greetings from Knob Noster, MO

Dave:
We never actually spent any time in Knob Noster; in fact, I don’t think we even drove through it. But signs for it were numerous on I-70, and so it became the “sign du jour,” similar to yesterday’s Santa Claus, IN. Not sure what it all means, though I once knew a cheerleader who was affectionately known as the Knob Monster, but I digress.

In contrast to yesterday, a completely uneventful ride (not that there’s anything wrong with that), and we arrived in Abilene without much to report, though pleasantly surprised by a fairly charming town (with lots of trees, Nancy) in the middle of the Kansas prairie. It’s also the family home of Dwight Eisenhower, and houses the National Greyhound Hall of Fame, as well. Not sure if it’s by design, but there’s an eight mile stretch of I-70 to the east that has the distinction of being the first completed section of the Eisenhower Interstate System. Though it’s not as if Ike and his posse had the family vacation in mind, as the creation of the highway network was in response to the Cold War; specifically, to provide a means of rapidly evacuating large population centers, providing limited points of access which could more easily be controlled by the military, and for the transport of ICBMs. But hey, I’m just happy it’s getting us to Boulder.

The one thing we haven’t figured out is what people do around here. It’s about 45 miles to Manhattan (known in these parts as the Little Apple, it‘s home to K-State). And I’m not talking about where to do Jello Shooters off the washboard abs of a co-ed named Amber - I mean where do people work, shop, etc. (and by etc., I mean “do Jello Shooters off the washboard abs of a co-ed named Amber”). There’s really not much here, other than a really big grain elevator (and no Super Wal-Mart to be found, so I’m just glad we got the flat tire in WV).
So tomorrow it’s more of the Kansas prairie, across the plains of Colorado, and on to Boulder, where we’ll finally get our mountains. I hear that the University of Colorado is quite the party school. Jello Shooters, anyone?

Tracey:
Since today a has been corn field after corn field, all we’ve had are road signs to amuse us. I’m sure there are plenty of weirdly named towns back east that just aren’t coming to mind, but out here they seem exceptionally challenged by the process of naming a town. In some areas, they must just use the dictionary: Farmers, Sulphur, and English were a few they chose that way. Then for others they use a baby book: Emma, Dale, Ashley, Jasper, and Ferdinand. When they try to get creative and choose real town-sounding names, they come up with Grain Valley, Grainland, and Plainsville - makes you want to pull right over and visit, doesn’t it? And Missouri doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference between letters and numbers, because they frequently use letters for Route numbers - we saw Route O, V, DD (Sorry, Toni C., but we didn’t venture down to explore that one, though it is possible that it led to the Land of the Pressed Ham), and YY to name a few.

Day 1 - Bring Out the Gimp

Dave:
Talk about inauspicious beginnings: three hours into the trip - on what was to be a “driving for miles” kind of day - an unidentified object punctures the sidewall of the left rear tire, just as we’re about to pull into an I-64 rest stop in eastern West Virginia. So we unpack the back of the car, pull out and install the “donut” spare, re-pack the back of the car, and head off in search of a tire shop, ten miles up the road, just before noon on a Saturday.

Suddenly, it all makes sense in a Hills Have Eyes/Cabin Fever/Deliverance kind of way. A hazardous object strategically placed in the middle of the interstate just before the entrance to the rest stop. The nice lady at the information desk who suggested Appalachian Tire just a bit too enthusiastically. Sure, she had most of her teeth (and nary a banjo in sight), but the combination of her sing-song delivery and vacuous stare as she described “this little shop ten miles up the road” was, in retrospect, the quintessential “red flag.”

So, as we exit the interstate, my imagination is kicking into overdrive with unsettling vignettes involving Appalachian Tires’ version of Zed, The Gimp, and the horrors that can be wrought upon an unsuspecting couple with an engine hoist, tie rods, and wheel-balancing machine in a deserted garage. But fortune was smiling on us this day, as they didn’t have a single tire in our size, and we ended up 1.5 miles in the opposite direction at a Super Wal-Mart.

Now I’m not sure exactly where we were in West Virginia, but suffice it to say that there wasn’t much besides the Super Wal-Mart (and Appalachian Tire, of course). But Sam Walton’s progeny actually had two choices of the seemingly hard to find P175/70R13 tires, and I’m pretty sure the check-in girl asked me if I wanted the Cinnamon or Jasmine scented option (only in America). Then I find out that they only have one tire machine (the other one went to The Great Gig in the Sky just the other day and decided it was a better time than down here) and our estimated wait time is 1.5 to 2 hours. So I tell her that there’s a $20 in it for her (or anybody else) who can simply mount a new tire on my rim and give it back to me, STAT. Next thing I know, there’s a newly mounted tire in my hand (the manager took pity on me, apparently under the impression that we were stranded on the interstate). So we install the new tire, re-unpack the back of the car, stow the “donut” spare, re-re-pack the back of the car, and head off into the sunset that is Evansville, Indiana.

Tomorrow’s destination is Abilene, Kansas, which will probably be about as exciting as eastern West Virginia would have been if eastern West Virginia didn’t have any mountains. Who knows, maybe they’ll even have a Super Wal-Mart.