Trowa Barton (trowa_barton) wrote,
Trowa Barton

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Into The West: Day 2

10:36am: Saturday, May 14
It pays to be on time for complimentary breakfast. Fortunately, there was a net station by the front desk. $10 goes a long way here. Now, if I can only remember what was the second thing I had to do online.
The conservative nature of this place becomes apparent when neuroptik's entries became blocked. Currently in the company of some lime green luggage hammercock's parents owned them while the Brunner clan gets the transport to Wyoming. We're going to take the scenic route through the mountains.
Random Thought of the Day: Neil Finn does not look like Robert Redford, despite the insistance of a local as she looks at hammercock's Finn Brother's T-shirt.

On the road in the king of SUVs with a background of 80s music. Then again, with the snow-capped mountains outside, this is one of the few occasions where a Wanker Mobile is necessary. I am 4,000+ feet above sea level without an airplane. This is higher than NY, MA, and FL combined. Approaching the Great Salt Lake.
The towns are un-impressive. As an engineer, I'm impressed with the refineries worthy of "Blade Runner". But the background is good country. I need more video cassettes to capture all of it.

Just smelled the Great Salt Lake. Apparently, there is a beach area by the lake. Utah residents just love to get ionized. Poor time to lose directions. Or, maybe it's the right time.

Welcome to Idaho.
Population: Mountainous
And hammercock's father calls this the less scenic route. Satellite radio is a wonderful thing. 3 hours, and we haven't used the CDs yet.
This is the state that gave us potatoes, "The Postman", and "Napoleon Dynamite." It shows. Nothing like killing time discussing the history of profanity with the Brunners. [Unknown LJ tag] is trying to explain "Firefly" to her parents.

Still in Idaho with powerlines and shrubs to keep the average motorist busy. Just crossed the Snake River.

Idaho Falls, in the words of hammercock's father, is around as a stopping point on the way to Yellowstone. It seems to be the only justification of its existence. The exception is the Great Harvest which serves a variety of bread products. Got a loaf of White Chocolate Cherry sweet bread with Huckleberry soda. (I was too chicken to get the Sarsparilla)
The abundance of drive-in theaters is impressive. They seem to keep all pieces of Americana whether we like it or not. A sign just went up ahead: "Warning Tourists! Do not laugh at the natives". Wise words, though there isn't much to laugh at.
Just when I think I'm in the middle of nowhere, more open space proves otherwise--especially at 6,000ft.

A stray wooden house every few hundred feet. Lots of grass. Silos. Ranches. More snow-capped mountains. I still view it all with a sense of wonder, for this is foreign soil to me. Try explaining New York City or the Everglades to a Idahoan farmer. The lush green mountains remind me of the hills of San Juan. Memories of my late grandfather's plantain farm at 2,000 ft come to mind.

Words, pictures, and video cannot describe the view from 8,134 ft. I am finally at the Grand Teton. The image will be in my head and heart forever. I need more film. And we haven't reached our final destination yet. Within 5 miles, we dropped 2,500 ft in altitude.

5:40pm: Touchdown!

Not entirely roughin' it. Dishwasher. DVD player. A supermarket nearby. A sushi place neary (Actually two). Still want to get an elk steak before I leave.
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