Day 13

Friday June 21. We just drove down 14 miles of dirt (sand) road in Navajo country. Now I know why they all drive pickup trucks around here. Thanks, GPS, for trying to take us the most direct way to our destination, but you've just added another twenty minutes to our trip. What we lost in total mileage was more than made up for in forced slow speeds and road hazards.

We spent the night at a free campground near the Navajo National Monument in Kayenta, Arizona. It was our second night camping in the desert after the night before when we camped near Canyonlands National Park in southeastern Utah.  Both nights were windy and chilly, but nothing compared to the cold of those Wyoming nights.

After we left our Park City hotel two days ago, we went to Arches National Park in Moab, Utah. It was pretty amazing driving through the now-green mountains in Utah's ski country and watching the landscape turn into dry, brown rock cliffs and then into the orange clay of the desert south.

We had originally planned to go to Arches and Canyonlands National Park in the same day since they are right near each other, but as it got later, we realized we wouldn't have time to do both. We watched the sunset at Arches and then drove to a free campground about 40 minutes south of Arches and right outside of Canyonlands. Our plan was to get up early and go to Canyonlands in the morning, which we did, but it took much longer than planned to get there. We were only 11 miles away, according to the GPS, but we had to drive over, down, and back around to to get into the park: a total of 78 miles and nearly an hour and a half of driving.

Canyonlands was beautiful, but it felt like much of the same as Arches (not at all surprising since they're in the same geographical region). We did get to tour some cave dwellings where there was visible evidence of the ancient people who lived there hundreds of years ago, including soot-blackened ceilings and petroglyphs (pictorial drawings). 

After Canyonlands, we headed to the Four Corners. It wasn't really on the way to our next stop, the Grand Canyon, but both of us had wanted to stand in four states at once ever since we'd learned about it in elementary school. So we drove the two and a half hours south and a little east to where Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona meet. The highway we were driving on took us back through Colorado to get there, and it was strange to pass the "Welcome to Colorful Colorado" sign again after all the traveling we've done in the nine days since we first saw that sign on the opposite side of the state.

Four Corners was a relatively quick stop. We each stood where all the states meet, then we stood there together and had someone take our picture:

We would have stayed longer and thought of more creative poses to do that incorporated the four states and our various limbs, but there were lots of tourists trying to take their pictures there as well, so we couldn't really hog the space for ourselves (even though our poses would have been awesome and everyone else was lame and unoriginal). We spent some time walking around and looking at the vendors' wares--lots of jewelry, house decor and various trinkets--all handmade by Navajo people. The Four Corners is actually located in Navajo Country so we weren't able to use our National Park Annual Pass to get in, but the $3-a-head admission fee was by far the cheapest we've seen so far.

I still have no doubts that the $80 park pass we bought (which covers the entrance fee for both of us at all national parks and monuments) will more than pay for itself before we've completed our road trip. Aside from the Four Corners and a few state parks we visited in Missouri, all of our entrance fees have been waived, and I've noticed they've been adding up: $25 per vehicle at Grand Teton, $25 at Yellowstone, $10 at Arches and $10 at Canyonlands. No doubt we'll be saving another $25 at the Grand Canyon and wherever else we stop at afterwards. Buying that pass was definitely a smart move.

Leaving the Great Salt Lake

Never again. Never, ever again.

Let me first say that I am loving Utah. The landscape has been lovely since we crossed the border coming from Idaho. Big mountains, green and snow-capped, everywhere you look. And the Great Salt Lake looks beautiful with the sun reflecting off the blue waters and a backdrop of those gorgeous mountains--that is, when you're looking from a safe distance within the confines of your air-conditioned car. 

It's been hot and sunny and we haven't showered since our last morning camping in Yellowstone and a dip in the water sounded like just the thing we needed. I had read that you can swim in the Great Salt Lake and that the heavy salt concentration allows anyone to float effortlessly. That sounded like fun to me, especially since I was never any good at floating. (I can remember my dad telling me as a kid that fat is much more buoyant than dense bone and muscle; ever since then, I've noticed that the only parts that stay on top of the water are my air-filled chest and my butt.)

I noticed something was wrong as soon as I parked the car. Despite it being 95 degrees and the strong, hot sun practically melting our skin, there was no one in the water. And as we were changing into our bathing suits, still within the safety of the car, hundreds of little flies began to land on the windows. I remembered reading something about how the high salinity of the lake supports little life besides algae, bacteria, some tiny shrimp-like creatures, and flies. Well, these are the flies, I thought.

We emerged from the car and slammed the doors shut as quickly as possible before the flies could get in. It was like we had just stepped into an oven swarming with flies. They immediately started landing on us. We headed toward the water, hoping that our motion would be enough to deter them, but they were persistent. Luckily, they weren't biting, otherwise I would have jumped right back in the car and scrapped the whole swimming idea.

The saltiness of the sand was apparent immediately: our first few steps left a dusty coating of salt on our feet. I kicked off my flip flops and carried them in my hand, as I always do at the beach. I regretted this decision when I realized we were walking through a giant seagull graveyard. Everywhere we looked were dead birds, some with their carcasses still in tact, and some with their feathers still matted to the bones. Colin's theory was that they all ate plastic and came here to die. Something tells me that's not far from the truth.

Then came the putrid smell of decay. I don't think it was from the birds because the smell didn't hit us until we were closer to the water and had already walked through the bulk of the bird graveyard, but the stench was so odorous that we were gagging. I wanted to turn around right there and sprint back to the car, but Colin convinced me to forge ahead.  It felt as if we had been walking forever but we were almost there--I could see where the water was pooling in some spots. To get to water's edge, we had to walk through the pools. Once again, I wanted to turn around, but Colin wouldn't let me give up. The pools were covered with a layer of seemingly dead insect-like sea creatures--I looked it up later and found out that they are brine shrimp, commonly sold as novelty "sea monkeys." I was holding my breath at this point, not wanting to inhale any more of the putrid stench or the flies that were now swarming in thick hoards. We reached the edge of the water and were now standing ankle-deep in the Great Salt Lake. Just then, the wind picked up and suddenly my skin began to sting: we were being pelted by flies! I felt them rocketing into my ears. I turned away from the wind and let them ricochet off my back. That was the last straw. Colin and I turned and ran full-speed back to the car, mouths closed but silently screaming, flies slapping our skin, our feet trampling on sea monkeys and dead birds. 

I guess we can't really say we swam in the Great Salt Lake, but it wasn't for lack of effort, and it certainly was an all-sensory experience I will never forget.

(Colin's feet)

Day 10

Tuesday June 18. We left Yellowstone yesterday evening feeling like we'd had our fill of America's oldest national park. Having come in the south entrance and not wanting to spend any more time in Wyoming, we went out the west entrance, which brought us right into Montana. The part of Montana we drove through was a lot like Wyoming: beautiful mountains in the distance and lots of wide open spaces. Oh, and cows and ranches.

We drove into Idaho hoping to find a free campsite in the southern portion of the state so we could continue driving to Utah the next day. Around dinner time Colin saw a sign for Pizza Hut and convinced me we should stop there. Not having eaten Pizza Hut since the years of elementary school birthday parties, I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but I wasn't expecting it to taste like pizza. (This, of course, refers to pizza as only someone who has spent enough time in Italy or the tri-state area would know it.) And this, I think, is the secret to appreciating Pizza Hut or Domino's or Papa John's or any of those nationwide pizza chains, even if you consider yourself a pizza aficionado like I do. You can't go into it thinking it's pizza or anything even remotely tasting like that culinary sublimity from your favorite mom and pop Italian joint where you grew up. That being said, the proud Jersey girl in me is still ashamed to admit that I enjoyed that sloppy, greasy pizza imposter with the fluffy braided and cheese-stuffed crust.

I wonder how many people go their entire lives thinking that that is what pizza really is. That is both mind-boggling and saddening for me to think about.

Our bellies full and anticipating discomfort from the grease-and-cheese overload, we managed to find a free campsite near a river to spend the night. Now we're on our way to the Great Salt Lake!

Yellowstone Day 2

I've been on Animal Watch the whole time Colin's been driving, so again, it's been hard to write. Now I know why people talk about the animals at Yellowstone so much. Yesterday we saw three male elk grazing on a hill. They looked so top-heavy with those huge antlers that I was amazed by their neck strength every time they picked their heads up. I used my digital point-and-shoot camera because the zoom is much better than on my phone, so unfortunately I can't share the pictures with you, although Colin did manage to get this photo of me stalking the elk:

 A little farther down the same mountain, we saw a bunch of bighorn sheep. Disclaimer: I'm doing my best to properly name these animals, with the help of Colin and the handy informative Yellowstone brochure we received upon our entry, but I could be getting some or all of them wrong. I'm pretty sure I got the bighorn sheep right, though, because they were wooly and had big horns. Duh.

We've seen a good amount of bison and/or buffalo (I don't know what's the difference). This morning we saw four of them grazing (and one pooping) really close to the road. We saw two others a few hours later.

And yesterday evening we saw a whole herd of them in a field--some grazing, some roaming, and some just lying there. That was a pretty breathtaking sight: there they were, in their natural wild state, giving you the sense that you were intruding just by observing.

I'm also thrilled to announce that my Yellowstone trip is complete because...we saw a bear! Actually, we saw three bears--what looked like a mama black bear and two lighter colored babies. I texted my dad to ask if black bears could have sandy brown young or if I was looking at a very dark brown bear, and his reply was, "Whoa. I don't know, but I do know you don't want to be near any mama bear and her cubs." I assured him that the bears were down in the valley and I was watching them from a very safe distance.

I should mention that none of these animal sightings were due to any success on my part of Animal Watch duty. With the exception of the one lone oversized deer-like animal we saw near the road at Grand Teton, all the others had crowds gathered to watch them with their cameras out, which were pretty hard to miss when we were driving by.

Day 8

Sunday, June 16. It's hard to believe that we just left one week ago today and now we're all the way in the northwestern corner of Wyoming at Yellowstone National Park. 

Yellowstone! Wow. Where to begin? It's been hard to write while Colin is driving because I don't want to miss out on any of the gorgeous scenery. It's probably worth a trip to the park just to drive through, but we've been doing a lot of hiking as well and I'm so glad for that because the views that are set back from the road are, I think, the most breathtaking.

I've never seen waterfalls or cascades of this magnitude--not even close. Not to mention that the whole of Yellowstone is atop a volcano, of which I had no idea until I got here, but it makes for a lot of really neat geothermal features like hot springs and geysers, which are everywhere in the park.

I should also mention that we spent the day at and camped in Grand Teton National Park yesterday and last night. I didn't write about it for the same reason I mentioned before, not wanting to miss out on anything. Grand Teton is right below Yellowstone on the map (they actually share a border) so we were able to camp on the north end of Grand Teton and drive right into Yellowstone the next morning. Grand Teton was beautiful but much smaller than Yellowstone and a lot less crowded even though we were there on a Saturday. We could have spent more time there and done more hikes but we were antsy to get on our way to Yellowstone so we didn't see as much of the park as we could have--I'm still not sure if this was a good move or not, but Yellowstone has been so incredible that I don't care. I'll end this post with a few pictures from Grand Teton:

One last thing before we're back off the grid

The last eight posts were sent from our hotel in Park City, Utah. A lot has happened between Day 7 in Wyoming and today, Day 11, but I wanted to take advantage of the free wi-fi at our hotel to get the old posts up before I can work on finishing up all the other more recent ones. We've been to Grand Teton National Park, Yellowstone, through Idaho (yes, we ate their potatoes), and down to the Great Salt Lake. Colin wanted to take me to Park City last night because he came here years ago with his dad on a ski/snowboarding trip and really liked the town. It IS a very cute down, but it's very quiet--you can tell it thrives in the snow sport season and reverse-hibernates the rest of the year. Because of this, we were able to stay in a really nice hotel for a very cheap price. I wish we could stay longer and take advantage of more hot showers and comfy sleeps on a real bed, but we're checking out shortly and heading down to a couple stops in southern Utah and camping somewhere near the Four Corners. 

Day 7

11:30am. We decided to take a different route to our next stop in Jackson, Wyoming. We were driving down some backcountry road when we saw what must have been hundreds of free range brown cows. We pulled over to watch them for a bit because some were so close to the road and seemed entirely unphased by our presence. We watched as two bulls tried to mount a female, then butted heads with each other in what I imagine was a show of strength. As they fought, the female mounted the smaller male! I guess she wanted to put him in his place, too. Too add to the hilarity of the moment, a couple of the calves began to mount each other, and one was even brazen enough to attempt the aforementioned female (unsuccessfully) in an amusing display of monkey-see-monkey-do.

Several miles down, we had to slow to a near-stop to allow ample room for the herd of cows passing on the other side of the road. There were dozens of them marching down the road with a few people on horseback and a spotted cattle dog bringing up the rear. Cowboy culture is alive and well in Wyoming, the least populous of the continental United States. We've been driving for miles just looking at rock formations on either side of the road and the mountains in the distance (Wyoming is quite beautiful), and then we'll see a bunch of cows on the other side of a low fence partitioning them from the road so we know there must be a ranch nearby, even though there's none in sight.

Observations from inside of The Golden Chari-yacht:

Colin is terrible at geography.

Colin eats nonstop while in the car. Except for when he was sleeping, he has not stopped eating for the entire time we've been on the road since we left New Jersey. When he's driving, he asks me to make him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches even if we just ate breakfast an hour ago. I thought I ate a lot but Colin is on another level...like, preparing-for-a-food-competition-level.

Welcome to Colorful Colorado

After our stop at Mushroom Rock State Park, which involved a lot of dirt-and-gravel road driving in the 101 degree hot sun (we had the AC on in the car, but at one point Colin accidentally hit the "recirculate" button and we were both choking on the dusty air we'd kicked up from the road), we drove straight through Kansas to Colorado on I-70. Kansas was pretty boring--lots of rolling prairies, grazing cows, windmills and oil rigs. We ended up stopping at Prairie Dog Town, not because of all the billboards we passed boasting the "world's largest prairie dog," but because we needed gas and Prairie Dog Town happened to be right next to the gas station. It was more of a small zoo with lots of prairie dogs running around and popping in and out of their burrowed holes. The place also boasted a five-legged cow but we didn't see it. Oh, and the world's biggest prairie dog was a giant statue. False advertisement, if you ask me, but the whole thing just made me sad to see all the animals in cages cooking out in the hot sun. (Aside from a variety of birds, there were foxes, bobcats, donkeys, bison, and your standard farm animals.)

From there, we had a more-or-less monotonous drive through the rest of Kansas into Colorado. (Fun fact: There's a town in Kansas near the Colorado border called Kanorado.) We were , however, driving into a gorgeous sunset, properly punctuated by "Welcome to Colorful Colorado" sign as we crossed the border. I half expected to be suddenly stunned by the beauty of the landscape as soon as we entered Colorado, but as it turns out, the southeastern portion of Colorado looks a whole lot like Kansas. 

Unfortunately, it was dark as we approached Denver, so we didn't get a spectacular view of the Rockies driving in. I didn't care--I was so excited to be in Denver for the first time since January 2008. I was particularly looking forward to the new experience of one of my favorite cities in the summer season. 

Our friends Janessa and Luke were kind enough to let us stay with them for a couple nights. It was so nice to see some friendly faces besides each other's! Janessa had off from work the next day so we were able to go out to breakfast and then on a hike near the town of Evergreen, about a 20 minute drive outside the city. We hiked to a waterfall and climbed a lot of rocks. I enjoyed taking pictures of all the baby pine cones. The woods here are predominantly coniferous which gives them a different look, feel, and smell from the ones back home. 

After we got back from the hike, Colin and I went to visit his friend Ryan who lives in an apartment in or near center city. I took this photo from his rooftop:

Denver's proximity to the mountains--or rather, the idea that you're in a city and you can see the mountains right outside your window--was something that really struck me the first time I was here, and I found it no less astounding five and a half years later. Denver's beauty stretches beyond the physical: the people are, on the whole, friendly and kind, with a palpable neo-hippie culture (which, for me, gave the city an even more warm and beckoning feel). There is a pervasive sense of social and environmental responsibility, underscored by the prevalence of health-conscious eateries boasting fully organic, non-GMO menus with lots of vegan and vegetarian options. Everything we've eaten here has been fantastic, from the vegetarian brunch at Watercourse where it took us forever to decide what to order because EVERYTHING looked so good, to the dollar tacos at Vine Street Pub and Brewery, to the gourmet sausages at The Uber Sausage that combined the superior sausage quality of Germany with the American fondness for an abundance of toppings and flavors.

Colin and I both agreed that we could've easily spent a week in Denver. The charm of the city sucks you in and makes you lose sense of time and responsibilities (what few we have when unemployed and traveling). Combine that with the fact that the cost of living isn't nearly as high as California or back home and we both were considering scrapping the whole California bit and coming back to Denver after visiting with Kevin at the end of our trip to look for jobs here. Colin was pretty much sold on the idea, but something pretty big was standing in the way for me. I had heard about Denver's pit bull ban and even watched part of a documentary that confirmed it for me: in 1989, the city of Denver enacted a law that effectively banned all pit bulls or any dog that showed predominantly pit bull characteristics, leading to a mass euthanization of the dogs. (I only watched part of the documentary because Colin turned it off when I couldn't stop crying.) The law is still in place today. During my time in Denver, I couldn't help but notice the abundance of dogs out and about--Denver seems to be an otherwise dog-friendly city, with dogs frequently accompanying their owners to dinner at the many restaurants offering patio seating --but I didn't see a single pit bull. Janessa said she's seen a few since she moved to Denver in March, and I've read that there are some people who choose to keep their pit bulls illegally (unregistered with the city), running the risk that if discovered, their dog would be confiscated and killed. I could never live with that fear. It's safe to say I won't be returning to Denver with my beloved Lucy anytime soon, which is really a shame because it is such a lovely place to visit and, I imagine, to live. 

Day 4

Wednesday. 3:15pm. We have been driving through rural Kansas (and really, there's not much of Kansas that isn't rural) since 10am. We had planned to camp last night at Longview Campground near Kansas City, MO, after a long day of hiking and cave exploring and (of course) driving, but we couldn't find the campground due to poor signage and the lack of an address to put into the GPS. After getting decent directions from a local at a gas station, we were finally able to find it, but we pulled up 10 minutes after the office (which was really a small stand that looked more like a wood-enclosed tollbooth) had closed. We followed the "Attendant on Duty" sign to an RV and knocked on the door, practically begging to be let in, but the red-faced burly man was unsympathetic to our plight. I asked if he had any suggestions of where we might be able to rest our bones that night, and he just shrugged, basically to say "not my problem." We were frustrated, to say the least, especially after having driven for nearly an hour off our main route to look for the place, but weren't ready to give up on the idea of camping because it was such a warm, clear night. Assuming it would be too late to drive to and check-in at another campsite, I began to research free campsites in western Missouri and Kansas along our route. (Thank God for smartphones!) This led me to Woodridge Public Use Area in Lawrence, KS, a so-called "primitive" camping spot for tents only (no RV hook ups) with "vault toilets" and a water pump. It was about an hour and 40 minutes from where we were in Missouri and not too far off of Route 70, the road we planned to take all the way to Denver. I was pretty weary of the idea of sleeping in the middle of nowhere at a campsite with no sort of security, especially when traveling with valuables (cash, computers, iPods, iPhones, external hard drives holding invaluable photographs and everything I've ever written, this iPad, etc.), but Colin was determined to drive to at least scope it out and if it seemed too sketchy, we could always resort to a motel and at least then we'd still be a bit closer to our next destination.

I fell asleep on the drive there and woke up as our car bounced down a dirt road. (Driving in the daylight the next morning, I would learn that this is what i should expect from most of the roads off the main highways in Kansas. ) We were almost at the campsite. It was approaching 11pm so we couldn't see much as we pulled in, but we circled around the campsite and saw a couple other cars and tents and figured it seemed like an OK spot. 

We assembled the tent pretty quickly and as we were about to call it a night, we looked up at the sky and noticed how clear the stars were. It was windy but still warm enough that I didn't need a sweatshirt. I was glad we were camping after all, even if the "primitive campsite" meant we wouldn't be able to get a shower before we left. I fell asleep almost instantaneously, and save for a couple times during the night when I woke up because the wind was flapping our tent fly so loudly, I slept pretty soundly.

We're almost at our first and only planned stop for today on our way to Denver, Mushroom Rock State Park in the Smoky Hills region of Kansas. (Apparently this part of Kansas is so underdeveloped that some places don't even have town names; they just go by regions and "nearest cities.") More about that later.

Quotes from the road:

"Let's go to Hannibal and I will bite your head off" -Colin, upon passing a sign for Hannibal, MO

Cute signs and billboards we've passed:

Big Dick's Half Way Inn (Middle of Nowhere, MO)

Itchy's Flea Market (Lee's Summit, MO) 

The day of caves

Today was fun! We stopped at Rock Bridge State Park just outside of Columbia and went on a short hike to a cave. We had originally planned to go their to check out a cave known as The Devil's Icebox, but we found out once we got there that it was only accessible by tour, which needed to be scheduled ahead of time. Luckily there was another cave right next to it that was open to the public, meaning we were free to explore it on our own. We followed signs to the cave, which involved a half-mile hike--mostly ascending--to the entrance. We had to walk down a couple flights of steps to get to the opening, and about halfway down the temperature plummeted. I felt like it dropped twenty degrees (probably more because it was so hot and humid out that day, and as far as I know, caves stay more or less the same temperature) in mere seconds.

At the bottom was a small opening where you had to duck to walk through where it opened to a pretty spacious, water-filled area that was illuminated by an opening in the rocks.

I took off my flip-flops to walk through the water. It was really cold. We walked in as far as we could go with just the light from our cell phones to guide us. We saw a bat!

It's a blurry picture because the lighting was so poor, but doesn't his shadow look neat?

We were disappointed that we hadn't come prepared to explore the entirety of the cave (our headlamps and waterproof footwear were buried with the rest of our camping gear in the car), but we enjoyed walking around there and under the natural rock bridge.

From there we drove about an hour south to the Ozark Caverns, where we got a private tour of the caves (private only because it was a Tuesday afternoon and no one else showed up). Unfortunately, we couldn't take any pictures there because the park was trying to actively combat the spread of White Nose Syndrome, a relatively new and highly contagious fungal disease harmless to humans but lethal to bats. Since it is believed that our clothing and accessories can carry the spores from cave to cave, the tour guide forced me to lock my backpack in a safe before entering the cave, and Colin was asked to put his phone and keys in a ziplock bag in his pocket. Thus we have no pictures in the cave, which is really a shame because it was SO COOL.

We're heading back north now to our main route, hopefully camping somewhere in northwest Missouri tonight.

One last anecdote: I got a real taste of just how out of place this born-and-raised Jersey girl is out here in the Midwest today when we stopped to ask for directions to the caverns. I was driving and getting frustrated with the poor signage and our GPS's inability to maintain satellite reception, so I pulled into a gas station and got out to ask the woman behind the register for help. We were not too far from the highway at this point but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were pretty isolated from civilization as we know it. Sure enough, the nice lady told me to make my first left after "the gun club." I said, "The what?" And she repeated, "The gun club." Apparently everyone knows what this is unless you grew up in suburban New Jersey. So I got back in the car and told Colin we were turning left after the gun club. He nodded. I started driving again, and sure enough, after several miles of farmland and a few houses set back from the road (one had a swing set in the yard and I wondered where these kids might go to school and how long their bus ride must be), we came upon Missouri Trap Shooters Association, which looked like a series of huts where, Colin unpretentiously explained, people hang out and shoot their guns. Luckily I had Colin to serve as an interpreter so I didn't miss the left turn.

Quick note

The tape player in this old car broke so we have no way of listening to our iPods (enter string of curses here), so we have been forced to listen to the radio. There are lots of gun commercials.

Day 3

Tuesday. 7am. Colin just woke me up with a foot tickle. I am not amused.

We spent the night at a hotel in Columbia, Missouri. Missouri is pretty boring to drive through. After leaving Shane's house in Indianapolis where we got a solid night's sleep, we stopped at the Arch in St. Louis, the famed "Gateway to the West," and road to the top in what looked like a small enclosed Ferris wheel gondola (not for claustrophobics). That made for a pretty neat view, but then we were back on the road for another couple of hours of expansive grasslands and strange billboards ("God is watching," "Honky Tonk exit 168," and a turnip advertisement--I am not making this up). We checked into our hotel in Columbia around 7pm and took nice, long hot showers, noting that they might be our last for a while. Columbia is a small city and much of the action is centered around the University of Missouri (known locally as "Mizzou"), so we figured we would be able to find somewhere good to eat. We were right. An online review led us to choose Flat Branch Pub & Brewing because it seemed that not only was it a local favorite for the food and spirits, but most of the menu was locally sourced. We arrived hungry and made the mistake of ordering an appetizer along with our meals because the menu choices were all too appealing. This was a mistake only because we were so full after the appetizer and beer that we could've left right then, but our entrees were already on the way. We started with the "chokes 'n' cheese," a cheesy artichoke dip served hot in a bread bowl with fresh veggies to dip. Then came our burgers. I had been craving a burger all day so I barely glanced at the other menu items before I made my choice, and once Colin saw that it was antibiotic-free, hormone-free, vegetarian-fed beef, he wanted one, too. Somehow, we both finished our burgers (which was what we aimed for, not wanting to bring leftovers back to the hotel because we wouldn't be hungry enough again to eat them before we had to leave), which were absolutely delicious despite being slightly overcooked. Even more surprisingly, we still had enough room for dessert--I could barely even look at the dessert menu by this point, but Colin was drooling over the ice cream made right at the university--and our $3 "scoop" of ice cream turned out to be a giant heaping cup, which we managed to finish without too much discomfort. Our server was very friendly and attentive, and the only thing negative I could say about the entire experience was the group of young doctors who sat at the table behind us the whole time talking very loudly and profanely about job scarcity in academia and other professional grievances. It was a beautiful night so we were sitting out on the patio, and annoying patrons aside (and at no fault to the restaurant), the atmosphere was quite nice. All in all it was a five-star experience and I'd recommend it to anyone who might ever find themselves in Columbia, Missouri.

Heading back to our hotel, we were surprised to see so many bars still bustling with activity, their outdoor seating packed full of young people and music flooding into the streets. I assume this was due to the heavy university presence in the area, but it was still unexpected for a Monday night in mid-June in what I consider to be a very small city.

Our bellies full and very satisfied, we slept well, thus bringing us to the 7am foot tickle. We're going to ravage the continental breakfast and get on the road to see two state parks before heading to Kansas and on our way to Denver. 

Finally...wi-fi!

I'm finally connected to wi–fi. Here comes the barrage of old posts!

Update

This is just a quick update to let you all know where and how we are. We are safe and smiling in lovely Denver, Colorado! We got in at 9:30 last night and are staying with our friends Janessa and Luke who moved here a few months ago, and we're busy soaking up all the beauty of this city--physical and atmospheric. I will post more when I'm connected to wi-fi and can get my ramblings from my iPad to this blog. (This one is coming from my phone.) I have a backlog of posts from our travels in Missouri and Kansas so stay tuned!

Indiana

The last few posts were written from the road, but I'm finally posting them from Shane's house here in Indianapolis now that I'm connected to WiFi. I'd like to write more now but we're on our way out the door. We're getting a late start (again) and we need to get to this winery-and-cave tour in St. Louis.

"My head hurts. Can I have some oxygen?"

12:26pm. Those are real words spoken by none other than Colin Zannoni. We went to Walmart last night for some last minute travel supplies and we passed a display of miniature cans of oxygen on sale, most of which had been opened and presumably huffed by derelict customers, but we managed to find two with their safety seals still intact and Colin insisted we purchase them "in case we get headaches." I tried one on the way to the register and I'm pretty sure it's a scam and definitely not worth the $4 price tag, but Colin thought they still might be a good thing to have. 

We're driving through western Pennsylvania, past farm after farm after farm. Some of these horses and cows come up pretty close to the road. I just saw an old man riding a John Deere tractor. The houses are on expansive properties and lots of them have big porches and small lakes in the backyard (is "ponds" the appropriate term?). All of them have tractors.

We'll be arriving at Fallingwater soon, the big Frank Lloyd Wright house built over a waterfall. It's the first stop we planned to walk around before we get back in the car and head straight to Indianapolis, where we'll be spending the night with colin's cousin Shane.

On the road

It's 12pm on Sunday. I've been sleeping off and on for four hours and Colin just woke me up by playing the most obnoxious YouTube video. It's supposed to be for meditation but it sounds like someone sharpening knives and I can't imagine how anyone could stand listening to that for more than thirty seconds.

We are finally on the road. We had planned to leave at 5am (anyone who knows me should know that waking at that hour was entirely Colin's idea) but we didn't wake up till 6:30 due to the fact that we were up so late packing the car last night. I know now that when Colin says he's packed, he still needs to decide which shirts to bring and pack them, as well as organize all the food, transfer some computer files, and THEN begin to determine where to fit it all. (To be fair, my bags took up a lot more space than his did in the end, so I can't really complain.) So by the time we finished packing the cooler and loading our last minute items, then saying our goodbyes, it was 8:00 when we started driving. If this is any indicator of how the rest of our timetable will go, we'll be lucky to make it to California by the end of the month.

How much is too much?

I just counted: I own 26 bathing suits. 

That's not including the three mismatched bikini tops and bottoms or the four sets I added to the Goodwill pile. I might have a problem.

Packing Update

I just unpacked the entire box of sundresses referenced in my previous post because I have way too much clothing. I could easily pack the entire car with just the contents of my closets alone, and that's not even counting the shoes. I tried proposing to Colin that I should be entitled to more than half the car's space because women's fashion is far more integral to our happiness and  status in society than men's (how much variety can you really have in t-shirts and button-downs?), but that was to no avail. And judging by yesterday's  FaceTime, I'm not the only one having difficulty narrowing down my wardrobe.

Now back to sorting through sundresses. I dread having to do this with my shoes--I think I'll leave that for last.

Welcome!

Hello, family and friends, and welcome to my travel blog! I titled it Becky Goes West for obvious reasons, but also because it was the first one that came to mind when brainstorming blog names and all the other ones were too long or too cheesy or too confusing and difficult to remember. (I really wanted to call it Bolin Goes West, using the corny fusion of mine and Colin's names that we came up with back when we first started hanging out, but I also wanted to be taken seriously by my readers, so that name ultimately lost.)

Although my moniker occupies the title and the storytelling will be from my perspective, this blog is documenting our shared journey, and I don't expect we will be separated from each other much save for bathroom trips. My undergraduate journalism training has instilled in me a fierce respect for one's intellectual property, so when I post a photo that Colin took (or if I let him get a word in), you will know by the proper attribution. 

I am presently writing this from my parents' living room couch, and as you can tell if you're paying any attention to the time stamp on this post, it's the early hours of Friday morning (what I still consider to be Thursday night since I haven't gone to sleep yet). Obviously we haven't left. Originally we had told everyone we were leaving Wednesday, which was a more-or-less arbitrarily chosen date for our departure because everyone kept asking and we felt we needed to pick something so we could plan toward a goal. As Wednesday approached and we still didn't have the vehicle situation straightened out, we realized we were looking more to Thursday or Friday. And as soon as the procrastinator in me realized that, I virtually stopped packing. Wednesday came and went and I had managed to go through all my clothing, deciding what to keep and what to donate to the clothing drive and what to hand down to my younger cousin Sami, yet I had barely begun to pack. The only thing I had packed was a box of sundresses, but to be fair, I had just taken the box out of the attic where I store the bulk of my summer clothes and in the process of sorting through the box, I had decided there wasn't anything I was willing to part with and thus re-folded all the dresses I'd taken out (about half) and placed them neatly back in the box to take with me to California. 

And here I sit, on my parents' couch after six consecutive hours of more sorting and packing, and this is what my room looks like:

And this is how I'll be leaving it tonight. Tomorrow is another day, I always like to say. It's a good thing we didn't leave on Wednesday.