The Great Western Expedition: Into the West

The third day of the trip was just as long as day two. I woke up on the Great Plains, and by the time my head hit the pillow that night, I would be deep into the Great Basin. But first I had to cross into the mountains.

As I left the hotel in Cheyenne, I marveled at the tranquility of the early morning. The sun, just beginning to rise to the East, gave a wonderful red glow to the brisk autumn air. As I drove west along I-80, I kept my eyes on the southwestern horizon, hoping to see the Frontal Range of the Rockies. Not too far out of Cheyenne I got my wish.

Off in the distance were the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies. The first major snowstorms of the winter had crossed through the Rockies just days earlier. Although the lower valleys and foothills were no longer covered by snow, it hung on atop the high summits of the Rockies.

While stopped at the rest area near the highest point of I-80, I decided to make a side trip into the high peaks of the Rockies. Although I would be going through plenty of mountains on the trip, this was my one chance to really visit true alpine conditions. Therefore I got off the interstate at Laramie, and headed into the mountains.

After a short drive across the snowy summit of the scenic byway, I came down on the other side of the mountains, officially in the middle of the mountainous west. I made it back to the interstate, and headed on to the west. Mile after mile was nothing but sagebrush, cattle, and the occasional mine. This part of Wyoming is desolate even for that sparsely populated state, primarily because of the lack of water. Needless to say I was ready for a break once I reached Rock Springs.

Gassed up and resupplied, I continued on, crossing into the state of Utah. Once again I headed into mountains, making my way to the Great Salt Lake. Once I reached Park City, I went from the middle of nowhere to the middle of heavy commuter traffic. As I traveled out of the mountains into the flat valley of Salt Lake City, I was too busy paying attention to traffic to marvel at the site, but I'm sure it was inspiring.

After making sure I had enough gas to continue on, I moved past the Airport and skirted the southern end of the salt-water lake. After taking a few pictures of the drought-plagued lake, I headed into the Great Salt Desert.

It is obvious that this part of I-80 is one of the worst places to breakdown. Other than a Morton saltworks and a few empty buildings, there is nothing but flat saltlands along this part of the road. I was overjoyed when I reached the casino filled hamlet of Wendover on the edge of the Bonneville test track. I had made it to the Pacific time zone.

Although I had reached Nevada, I still had a ways to go. The path through Nevada can be described as a long, boring roller-coaster. Up and down, up and down, by a prison, up and down, up and down, by another prison, and then up and down again. After an up and down or two, you might reach a town of note, one that proudly called itself the "Armpit of the World".

I was overjoyed when I finally made it to Winnemucca, my destination for the night. As I am not a gambler, I didn't check out any of the casinos. Even if I wanted to gamble, I really needed to go to sleep. After all, the next day was the day I would finally reach my first destination. Tomorrow I would be at Yosemite.