Idaho and a little Montana

After leaving Yellowstone, I briefly drove through Montana.  I think I need more time in this state because my experience there was confusing; I'm sure it was just the one town I stopped in, but the few people I talked to all had different -- seemingly foreign -- accents, yet claimed to be locals.  The fact that one of them sounded like Crocodile Dundee yet said he lived in the town his whole life was very unexpected.  The town itself was also a mix between cheap boardwalk arcade and wild west ghost town.  The landscape, however, was amazing.

I spent most of the day traveling through Idaho, which was quite similar to Montana - absolutely beautiful but not much else to see.  While most of the state seemed to just be one big farm in the constant state of being watered, I did come across the Idaho Potato Museum.  To summarize: "The Idaho Potato Museum provides a complete information on potato history...trivia and educational potato facts.  You can also view the world's largest potato chip...Gift Shop offers almost any potato gift imaginable including potato ice cream, potato fudge, t-shirts, and, of course, fresh Idaho potatoes.  Admission includes a free potato gift."  I didn't take the tour despite the potato ice cream.

Given all the backroads, naturally I seized the opportunity to finally take the rental car off-road.  It handled poorly.  Very poorly, in fact, maintaining little traction and not having good enough suspension for even the smallest of jumps.  I'm exaggerating.  But only a little.

Also, for the first time in my life, I found myself welcoming the influx of insects I had encountered since heading north from Utah.  See, early on in the trip I had chipped my windshield while attempting to maximize my gas efficiency by minimizing my life expectancy and drafting-off an 18-wheeler.  I had spent much of the last couple of days trying to figure out how to cover up that crack so I wouldn't have to pay to fix the windshield.  The insects gave me the perfect (and cheap) solution.  My rule of thumb: any time you hit a bug, turn on the windshield wipers.  By the time I left Idaho, my windshield was a smear of thick paste and remarkably difficult to see out of.

Day VIII: Grand Teton Nat'l Park

Driving through Wyoming was utterly beautiful.  My only requests for my next visit would be to consider the idea of actually using radio to broadcast music, adding cell phone reception at least sporadically, or even to just consider having one restaurant opened past sundown.

A passing storm at sunset in Wyoming

I made it into the hotel at about 10:30 pm local time and quickly gained an understanding for the reason this particular place was marked down 35%.  I'll start by admitting that it was an improvement over my living situation in Utah, where I slept clothed--not only for fear of the cleanliness of the dingy room--but also to keep all the flies from landing on any exposed skin.  It also appeared that previous tenants had used the hotel carpeting to relieve themselves, and judging by the appearance of the bathroom itself, I find it hard to blame them.

While the place in Wyoming didn't have the bug problem, it also didn't have a working heater/AC unit, phone, tv, bedroom lighting, hot water, or the internet connection they promised me.  The complex was clearly seasonal, and was just opening up for the winter tourists they'd host for skiing. Judging by the smell of the room, this place hadn't been touched in six-months.

I got up for sunrise yet again, and was surprised to find that half the town apparently lines-up outside a local breakfast joint everyday, trying to be the first to get a seat when they open at 6am.  I guess I'd need to live in a small, remote town to understand.

Compared to where I was yesterday, the difference between the daily high temperatures was 50-degrees.  I was set-up for about 45-minutes to get this shot, both waiting for the fog to clear and for the lighting to become just right.  It was well-worth the wait.

Lessons Learned: When visiting Wyoming, rent an American-made truck.  It wasn't until about thirty-minutes after crossing the border that I finally spotted another foreign-made vehicle.  It took even longer to find one that was a sedan.

The highest peak reaches to over 13,000 feet