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The What
It had started out as a way to see different parts of the country - the mountains and the deserts and the ocean. I was driving from Milwaukee to San Francisco to Seattle and back again and figured it would take, at the minimum, ten days, and probably more like 14 or so. What ended up happening was a four-day, 4,563 mile drive seeing all the mountains and deserts I could have hoped for and mostly just hearing the ocean.I should also start by saying that I like driving, which was in part what led to the marathon trip (as opposed to the leisurely trip I had originally planned) to the West and back. The other major factor was, unfortunately, my impatience - I want things as soon as possible. Waiting sucks. We live in a booty-ass big country and having set out to see the mountains and deserts and ocean I was darn well going to see them as soon as I could.
I should also (also) mention that I really missed my fiancé and wanted to get home to her as soon as possible, but I am not sure I want to completely admit that yet as it doesn't seem very manly (as opposed to scratching and burping and the like, I suppose).
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The Beginning
So I bought a big cooler and packed it with water and fruit and bread and peanut butter. I brought along a bunch of books, some movies to play on my laptop, and my digital camera. I was going to sleep in the car, so I brought some blankets and pillows. I even remembered (thanks to the fiancé) to bring things like deodorant, a toothbrush, a towel (HHGTTG anybody?) and other assorted toiletries.I left the Milwaukee area around 9 in the morning to some light rain and cloudy skies and promptly had the only almost-accident of the trip. It was, of course, all their fault as I am Driver God, but instead of giving the offending party a good lightning bolt or a plague of frogs I decided to simply take the big meanie's picture. Friggin' smiley face.
I drove through southeastern and south central - yo! - WI (lots of pretty green rolling hills and fields) the northeast corner of IL (kinda pretty flat land and ugly/expensive tolls) and made it about 1/2-way through IA (lots of pretty rolling hills/fields and cows standing at attention in lined formation - very well-trained bovines in IA) when I thought I'd take a bit of a driving break and pulled off at a rest stop.
I was still taking things at a leisurely pace at this point, sticking to the two-week-or-so plan I had so I got out a book, made some lunch and sat at a shaded picnic table enjoying the now-sunny day, breeze and the general sense of neatness of getting away from the "real" world of work and appointments and obligations. At this point I was hoping to make it to Omaha, NE, about an 8 hour drive, and call it a day.
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The Madness Sets In
A few hours west of Des Moines and things were going well - Omaha was almost in my grasp and I still had a lot of daylight left. That's when it hit me, Why not keep going? I was in Omaha now, the speed limit was 85mph (okay, okay, posted 75mph but, you know) instead of the 65mph in WI and IL, and the 60mph in IA (just what the heck is up with that? 60mph? In IA? It is so wrong).The thing about the 75mph speed limit is that, even though it is only 10mph more than most of the highways where I live, it feels much much faster. It appealed to the speed racer in me. Also, where most people will do 10 or more over in a 60 or 65mph zone, they won't even do 5 over in a 75mph zone, so I get to feel all cool passing them. Having driven through NE a few times before, I was loathing the long trip through this time, but it turned out to be, because of the speed thing, spiffy - it helped me make good time.
So I kept going, through Omaha and Lincoln with their great classic rock stations, through central NE and its dozens of little man-made lakes hugging the interstate. In fact, there were so many of these little lakes with people with big, shiny SUVs with big, shiny trailers and big, shiny boats - everything looked so new - that I thought it might be some conspiracy from the automotive and boat execs: they build the lakes with easy access to the interstate and then people will want to boat on them, so they'll buy a new boat, but then they'll need a trailer for their new boat, so they'll buy a trailer, and then they'll need a vehicle to pull the new big boat on the new trailer, so they'll buy a new, shiny SUV to pull them with. I figured it was either this or some new Bush tax cut, economy booster thing. Either way, conspiracy or tax break, it sure seemed to be working, there were a lot of people using these little, man made lakes.
After working on these theories for a couple of hours, the miles winding away behind me, I realized that the madness truly was starting to set in, but by then I was helpless to it. The drive was on.
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The End Of Day One
I was reaching a point on the interstate system where I had to make a choice, go up though the mountains in WY or go up through the mountains in CO. I'd seen the mountains in CO once or twice before, so I thought I should go through in WY, but I really liked CO - plus, I would be able to get off the interstate in NV and it would be a bit more direct route to San Francisco. So I broke off of I-80 and hopped onto I-70 and got to watch the setting sun and see some thunderstorm cells off to the south and was generally in awe of nature and all that beauty and danger and the like.I really dig I-70 in eastern CO. All the big, bumpy-style hills that start hours before one gets to the mountains seem like earth-ripples caused by the collision of the great tectonic plates (which may, indeed, be the cause, I don't know nearly enough geology to know the truth).
I got into the suburbs of Denver around 12:30 and found a truck stop/gas station to park and sleep in. It took me a bit to find a suitable place at the gas station to park, I wanted to stay close to the area where the semis were for the (probably false) sense of security that gave me but far enough away from them so the noise from their running engines (which were very loud in the night air) didn't bother me.
After finding a place that combined minimum security and maximum engine noise, I debated whether I should keep the windows up or down; up meant no mosquitoes and down meant fresh air. I hate mosquitoes so I tried up. It took me about an hour to fall asleep and when I woke up about 30 minutes later all the windows were fogged up, the air was very stale and I slapped at a mosquito dining ala bakiwop that had somehow gotten in despite all my efforts to thwart the little buggers. I cracked the windows and tried to fall asleep again but I just couldn't do it, so I got out of the car, massaged a crick in my neck (the pillow was too large) and walked around the parking lot to get some blood-flow going.
Since I couldn't sleep, I thought I'd try a bit more driving. I gassed up and, due to the fog, drove through Denver without seeing much of it, and drove through the mountains for an hour without seeing much of them either.
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Nighttime Mountain Driving
Driving in the mountains at night was a new experience for me. It was dark, damn dark, really dark, no, seriously, I mean it dark. Dark. In fact, it was so dark, for the most part I couldn't see the mountains at all. I could feel the mountains looming all around me but I couldn't actually see them. I felt lost in "space" because I couldn't tell by sight alone whether I was currently on an upgrade or a downgrade - the only way I could tell was by popping the clutch and seeing if I gained or lost speed. The only real sensation of movement I got was from the yellow highway lines being swallowed by the mountain darkness. I didn't know where I was going or how high up I was or when the next bend in the road might come. It was all a bit, I imagine, like being a paranoid schizophrenic on acid.Since feeling like a paranoid schizophrenic on acid is not the best state of mind in which to be driving, I decided to pull off at a rest area and sleep a bit more. I wised up a bit this time and left the windows mostly open and didn't use a pillow at all as I reclined the driver's seat. I woke up about 2 hours later fairly well rested but I still had to massage a crick out of my neck, this time for overextending it backwards instead of forwards.
As I brushed my teeth and did various other morning-ritual-type-things, the sun started rising and I got on my way.
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Three States
Driving through CO was wonderful with its dark green, pine-covered mountain-top villages slowly turning into the bright-green town oases following the course of the Colorado River.
Eastern UT was amazingly beautiful with its bluffs and central UT was pretty nifty with its craggy rock formations. Western UT became less visually impressive and I was getting hot (I had turned off the a/c to see if it would help gas mileage) and one of my credit cards had stopped working because the magnetic strip had cracked and the gas station lady had been a not nice person and all around me was just sand and scrub brush and my oh my all of the sudden I was hot and whiny and the desert just kept going and going and who the heck would live in these big, open, dry, hot, inhospitable, little punk-ass towns in the middle of friggin' no where anyway!
And then I hit NV, hopped on US 50, and it got worse.
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Nevada Sucks
NV sucks. Really sucks. There is a reason that this state needed to legalize prostitution and gambling in order to get people to come to it. That reason is: NV sucks. There is a reason that the most popular and biggest cities are on the edge of the state instead of the interior, because even with legal prostitution and gambling, no one would venture far into this state, because: NV sucks. Given the choice between eternity in hell and eternity driving in NV, I would choose an eternity in hell - at least hell keeps one occupied with hot pokers and fiery lakes of brimstone, driving through NV was one long, boring pass changing into one huge, boring valley changing into one long, boring pass changing into one huge, boring valley again and again and again.At first, I hated driving through the valleys because at least with the passes I had to turn corners and vary my speed a bit, but as the day wore on, I liked the valleys better because I could make kick-butt time on them and the passes just slowed me down. For the first hour or so, I pretty much obeyed the speed limits, but after a while, I started doing 80, then 85, then 90.
They call US 50 in NV the "loneliest road in America" and they aren't kidding. There weren't too many cars, and the cars I did see all seemed to be Cadillacs and BMW and Audis - all these fancy cars on the "loneliest road in America". I began thinking of US 50 as "Gangster's Road". There were also fewer and fewer gas stations and rest stops, sometimes over 100 miles would pass before I would see any signs of human life again.
There were plenty of signs of non-human life though. About 3/4s through the state I stopped at a place to gas up and had to scrape about a bazillion bugs and two dead birds off the front of the car - my only guess for the shear amount of dead things on the front of my car in NV was they were using my car to commit suicide because they lived in NV.
Something that did pass the time driving through NV was passing the (very) occasional car. Since I was doing about 90, I would sometimes catch up to another car and passing it would be a bit tricky for a couple of reasons: 1) I was driving a Hyundai Accent, and although it is a wonderful car, its acceleration - especially in the 80s and 90s leaves something to be desired, 2) That heat coming off the road makes it difficult to see objects coming toward you on the road, 3) It is very hard to judge the distance of an oncoming vehicle when you do see it because of the heat rising from the road. So, in order to pass, I would have to start accelerating while I was about a half-mile from the car, where I would then pull into the other lane to see any potential oncoming cars more clearly.
This led to one interesting result as I tried to pass a semi. Just when I got to its back-end I saw an oncoming car on the horizon. I thought I had enough time to go around the semi but to be safe I gave the car a bit more gas. When I was able to see the oncoming car more clearly, I saw it was a NV state trooper. I looked down at my speedometer and it read 103mph. At first I was surprised that the Accent could even do 103, and then I was even more surprised when I saw the NV trooper not turn around, not turn on its lights, and not write me a ticket for speeding after I had pulled into the proper lane and it had passed me by.
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Maybe Nevada Doesn't Suck
Since this trip was about seeing the mountains and the deserts and the ocean, and since my fiancé couldn't come with me on this trip, I thought I would bring the mountains and the desert and the ocean to her. So, when I was in CO I grabbed some rocks off a mountain and put them in a baggie, and while I was in NV I stopped in the desert and put some sand into another baggie.I was loathing having to stop to get her the sand, because: NV sucks. I didn't want to be in the state for one more moment, one more second, than I had to. I was very hot from lack of a/c (my own, dumbass idea) my arms and neck were burning from the sun coming through the windows (luckily I had brought sun screen for just such an occasion) and, did I mention: NV sucks. But, being the great guy I am, I made the sacrifice for the woman I love and stopped alongside the road, got out of the car, got my little shovel and put some sand into a baggie.
This is where NV got good.
It was quiet. Very quiet. I stood there by my open trunk and was amazed by the quiet. Where most people live there is always some kind of mechanical sound or some kind of human sound, or at least sound from some kind of life (crickets or birds or something) but here there was nothing. Nothing at all, total and complete quiet. I raised my face to the sun and for the first time that day, with the sun beating directly on my face instead of through a car window, it felt good. Really good. I stood there in awe of the silence, the quiet, for a couple of minutes, then went to the car and got my umbrella for shade and stood there for another ten or so until I saw the flash of light from a car on the horizon. I got back in the car and thought I understood why someone might choose to live out here in the heat and the isolation.
An interesting fact: The first day of the trip I had gone through a single liter of water. Today, having driven through mostly desert, I went through six liters of water.
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California Here I Come
As I got to the extreme western side of NV, I ran into Carson City, Reno, and, thankfully, Interstate 80. I left Reno behind and entered CA. When I crossed the state line I expected sun, sand and surf. I expected 6 foot blondes in bikinis to be holding a banner reading "Welcome bakiwop!". I expected guys to be holding surf boards under their arms yelling, "Dude!". What I got was a closed highway stop asking me to declare any vegetables or plants I might be bringing into the state.After getting over my preconceived notions of what CA was, I thought CA might possibly be the most beautiful state I'd yet seen. There were huge mountains, lush, green plains, and beaches and the ocean. I never understand the phrase "purple mountain majesty", but as I was driving in the mountains toward the sunset I actually did see purple mountains.
It got dark as I was driving toward San Francisco and the plan was to get a hotel for the night. After a whole day roasting in the UT and NV sun without a/c, I really needed a shower. I thought I would get a bit closer to San Francisco, though, before stopping at one of the chain hotels and getting some r+r.
Not a good plan.
I got closer and closer to the city and all of the sudden there were no more hotels along the highway, and then all of the sudden I was paying a toll on the Oakland Bay Bridge, and then all of the sudden I was having to decide what exit to get off of so I would actually get to San Francisco instead of Oakland, and then all of the sudden I was somewhere in downtown San Francisco on a Tuesday night at 11:00 using an interstate map that kinda sorta had a map of a few major American cities, one of which was - luckily - San Francisco to try and find a hotel where it looked like I had at least a 50/50 chance of sleeping in a bed that wouldn't give me fleas, or some infectious disease or, possibly, even epilepsy.
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My Heart Belongs In San Francisco
And it could keep it too if it would just give me a map of the darned city! I gave up on the idea of using the map to find lodging and instead tried to use the map to find the ocean so I could get sea water for my fiancé so I could get out of San Francisco so I could get to where I knew there was a hotel off the highway.I found Golden Gate Park and tried following the roads west to the ocean. Good solid plan, right? Find a park that sits right on the ocean. While in the park drive west on the roads until you have to stop because of the ocean. Get out of the car, put some water in the baggie, and go find a hotel. Simple.
Only the roads in Golden Gate Park are all windy and twisty and the fog kept me from being able to see much of anything and after about 20 minutes I finally stumbled into one of San Francisco's finest who patiently gave me directions to a beach which I promptly, mostly, forgot, but of which I remembered just enough to get to a road which lead to Fisherman's Wharf where I couldn't find a way to get to the water but which did kinda lead to Ghirardelli Square which did have a beach from which I was able to get sea water into a baggie while soaking my shoes and socks and the lower part of my pants and what the heck was that skunk doing down here on the beach in San Francisco and damnit it was coming over to me and shit it was something like 1:30 in the morning and I was on the beach in San Francisco trying to put the ocean in a baggie and being almost-assaulted not by a pimp or a drugged-out hippie but by a skunk who probably thought, because of me having driven the entire day through the desert and sweating out approximately six liters of water, that I was a potential mate and damnit I needed to get a shower and some sleep.
I beat a hasty retreat from the skunk, drove over the fogged-in Golden Gate Bridge, drove over another bridge (which I did not know the name of) found a little strip mall and decided that trying to find a room would be a waste of time so I parked, cracked the windows, and fell asleep.
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Day 3
I woke up before sunrise - not having to massage a crick out of my neck as I used a lightweight jacket as a pillow this time around, found a secluded area in an empty parking lot and, using one of the gallons of drinking water I brought and some soap, finally got my shower.I had decided by this point to skip Seattle (I had already seen the mountains and the desert and - kinda - the ocean and I really really missed my fiancé) and head for home.
I retraced my steps through CA, broke new ground by following I-80 in NV (where I found out that Jesus, does indeed, live (which was good to have cleared up) was totally in awe of the sheer whiteness and size of the Great Salt Lake Desert, was totally in shock of the dumb bad luck at having reached Salt Lake City during rush hour, was totally awed again by the beauty of the UT mountains and was tickled pink by western/central WY where it seemed as though I was no longer driving through the mountains but rather on top of them.
I just about made it to Cheyenne with the aid of two giant Snickers bars and 20 ounces of Mountain Dew and found a nice truck stop to sleep at for the night.
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Day 4
I woke up again without a crick in my neck (if I'm ever homeless and have to sleep in a car, I have it down pat) and set off before sunrise without having seen any of Cheyenne accept the lights of the city as I passed it in the dark.I raced through NE (it's amazing that the word "limit" is in the phrase "Speed Limit", because it's not, you know, an actual limit, you can go way over what they say is the limit - I know, I've tested this theory) slowed way down in IA (where I saw a chain of convenience stores named "Kum and Go" and thought I was back in NV for a moment) got bored in IL (which is what IL is there for) and finally made it back to WI and home.
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Aprés Trip
I was amazed at how much of our country is covered by mountains. There are a lot of 'em out there.There are also a lot of cows in this country.
I'm also amazed at where people choose to live, the middle of NV for instance.
I found it interesting that, while driving through the mountains there were signs that read "Slow Down/Falling Rocks" - is that so the rocks have a better chance of hitting you? Wouldn't it be better to speed up? Aren't faster things harder to hit?
Sometimes in the mountains, when the speed limit was 70 or 75, I found it more of a challenge to try and go that fast through the corners and bends, especially at night, than a limit.
Prize for the most lifelike non-living thing would have to be the dust devils I saw in the desert in NV - they looked like they were having a good-old time twisting out there among the wind and sand and great, wide open spaces.
All morning radio DJs sound the same and make the same silly jokes and generalizations - just like I just did.
KFOG in San Francisco was a neat radio station.
According to the AM radio station preachers in UT and WY I am a sinner and there is nothing I can do about it (which is a bit of a relief) and I will burn in hell for it (which is also a bit of a relief, at least I won't be stuck in NV for all eternity) and, oh yes, there is a lot of temptation in our world, which is absolutely true (although giving into most of it isn't nearly as bad as they would have you believe).
Not going to Seattle meant not going through ID, which unfortunately didn't allow me to make use of my "Idaho, no, You da ho" joke.
Animals were, unfortunately, harmed in the making of this trip and were a bugger to scrape off the car.