I left Olympia and headed down Interstate 5, a familiar stretch of highway towards Portland, Oregon. I crossed the Columbia River and went east, following the river through the gorge and into the vast expanse of eastern Oregon. The lush vegetation of the Pacific coast slowly transitioned into high desert. The dark greens replaced by tan and ochre.
I stopped for lunch in The Dalles, a frontier town where the dominant color is brown. I ate at a small bar on the main street. The two other gentleman in the establishment were both sporting handle bar mustaches and talking about raising cattle. The Winter Olympics hummed along on the television. One of the patrons asked me where I was headed. I told him and he smiled coyly before taking a sip from his beer. You have a long way to go, he said, but each day you’ll find yourself doing a bit more driving than the day before. I thanked him and hoped he spoke the truth.
From The Dalles to the Idaho border was another six hours. The high desert changed to snow dusted fields and the elevation began to increase. Interstate 84 veered south and I crossed over the Snake River. I stopped for gas in a small town before reaching the mountain pass. I got out of my vehicle and then remembered Oregon is full service. I sat back in the driver’s seat and asked the attendant to fill it up.
I drove towards the mountains and made the ascent, with semi’s to my right - their hazard lights flashing. On the other side of the pass was the Idaho border. As I crossed state lines the speed limit opened up to 80. I continued towards Boise with no real plan for stopping. As the city approached, I drifted off the interstate into downtown. It was about 9:00 PM and I had been driving for nearly 10 hours. Boise was a wide city with large one way streets through its core. It was quiet, with very few people on the streets and plenty of parking. I found some food and booked a room at a cheap motel near downtown.
I woke up early and loaded up on coffee. The sun began to rise over the city and revealed the backside of the mountains I crossed the day before. I got back on 84 and continued east. The countryside opened up. It was cold and barren. Snow packed on the ground and nothing for miles in any direction. My thoughts wandered. I thought of the dinosaurs and when they roamed this empty Northern Hemisphere. I imagined that this would be where they stretched their legs.
The temperature dropped as I headed inland and the air smelled like cow manure. By noon, I stopped in Twin Falls, Idaho - the first town I’d seen since Boise. There I met the Snake River again, this time cutting through the cliffs exposing the layers of geological time like brick work from some forgotten building. I pulled over and took a picture, the smell of cow dung hung heavy in the air and it mixed with the exhaust fumes from the interstate traffic as it buzzed by. I got back into my car, turned the radio up and aimed south, towards Utah.
To be continued