Heading Home

I can't believe I'll be home tomorrow evening. It seems like, although I'm still in Idaho, that it is a lifetime away. Returning to the daily grind sounds both comforting and stifling at the same time. I'm sure one week into work I'll be wondering, 'Was I really sleeping in my car just seven days past?'

I feel like my last blog entry was a bit too excited and rushed. I spent my last week and a half in the Wild West and because I took some serious back roads, it really WAS the WILD West. I can't decide which people are kinder: the Southerners in their hospitality, the Midwesterners in their amazing generosity, or the Westerners in their openness. In places like Wyoming and Nevada, you cannot just survive on your own. You have to stick together, even if its a small group of you. I don't think I there's any other place that I felt so much at home than in the mountains of Nevada. This has always been a place I've enjoyed to have an adventure, but waking up with the sun coming over the desert mountains and the world in complete quiet was just heaven.

Western men, despite completely living up to their rough stereotype (as I said in WY), are more open to emotions that I would have thought. I chatted with one rancher after discussing the problem of wild horses and roping cattle, about how he stopped hunting after his wife passed away. He said that they used to hunt geese. Geese mate for life. If you killed one, the mate comes back searching for its downed lover and after his own mate died of cancer, it kills him to think he could ever do that--even to a bird. Also, the way these men treat their dogs is just incredible. It's not the kind of care that a city guy might take care of his dog, but the affection for his loyal companion is verbalized nonetheless. "If a woman was as devoted to me as this wolf..." I heard one man say, "I wouldn't be alone today. I would treat her so well in return."

I've said before that everyday I feel like I'm going through culture shock and I haven't left the United States in two years. After my week in the West, I headed to the mountains of Idaho. I had forgotten about Idaho's reputation for skin heads til I got here. Oh yeah I remember!, I thought to myself as yet another old Ford littered in Dixie bumper stickers passed me with two bald white males sitting in front. In the south, having a confederate flag either means 1. Your a white supremest or 2, you're proud of your heritage. So far northwest, having a confederate flag hang over your front door only means the first. With this in mind, I should probably hide away my "Dixieland" license plate before someone assumes the worst.

Anyway, soon I will be home. I'll post state superlatives and final mileage statistics. I'm scraping by with just enough money to get through this trip. And I'm so thankful for this opportunity...despite the fact that I'm sitting in a Starbucks and I am not sure how I ended up smelling this bad even though my WONDERFUL coworker booked me a room in his timeshare resort two nights ago (Complete with a washing machine, a gas fire place, and a hot tub!!). Shower, I'm so sorry baby, I'll never take you for granted again. I swear. No more asking my roommate if I look clean enough to bypass you. It got old quickly having to scurry into a gas station with a broken backpack full of toiletries and scurry out 10 minutes later with a towel around my head. Sadly enough, I've looked cleaner after a Burger King shower than a real one. And no, to people who ask "Burger Kings have showers?" They don't.

And sorry, no more pictures (not even of watching two shepherds herd a flock of sheep out in the middle of the high desert or of the road sign "Beet Dump Rd") as I somehow lost my camera charger. Must have fallen out of that annoying broken backpack! :(

Of Wolves and Men

You know it's going to be an interesting evening when you're 100 miles from any highway and 20 from a paved road and walk into a mountain top saloon that's filled with mountain men, cowboys, dogs, and a wolf. I'm sure a lot of people would have very much doubted their judgement as to the series of events that would lead them to a place like this but I was all smiles. The guy who led me to this devil's den asked the bartender to share some moonshine with me and she gave a disgusted look at the idea but nonetheless whipped out a gallon finger jug labeled in pencil "Cook's special" and poured me a taste. Now I know why the rednecks in cartoons always breathe fire when they drink moonshine! She didn't bother asking if I wanted more because obviously I did not. As the evening progressed, I got to know everyone in the entire village, everyone in the village over, and of everyone in the next valley. 75 miles off a dirt road leads you to highway 50, nicknamed "The Loneliest Road" on every map. So obviously I was OUT there.

The series of events that led me to this ghost town in the mountains: I headed west on hwy 6. I knew I was in for some good times because of this sign:

Also...because Nevada is the BEST state to go to if you want a good story to tell. I've never visited the state without having an adventure. The first time, I met a group of snowboarders that invited me to stay with them for a week. The second time, a woman came up to me and told me my past and future. This is the also state where I stayed at the haunted campsite.

I decided to take a 500 mile detour and retrace some of the steps I took when I was in the Silver state 3 years ago. Should I go shower at the hot springs where a huge pack of coyotes decided to interrupt my last bathing session? Absolutely! This time: successful. Only one wild bunny and no other wild creatures. Though, a van full of Korean tourists snapped a few pictures of me sitting in a bikini washing my hair in the naturally warm spring waters. Thanks, guys. I have no idea where they would even be coming from as this hot springs was is probably 200 miles from Vegas and even more from Reno.

After my nice shower, I headed north. Some voice kept on nagging on me to visit a semi ghost town I had visited on my previous trip even though it was several miles out of the way. I shrugged and listed to the voice. Sure glad I did because then I ended up following a group of people down a long dirt road to a town unmarked. After a fun evening meeting everyone and hearing cool stories, a nice couple I met there let me stay in their house. This morning I went for a lovely jog through the hills. Jogging at 7500 feet is just as slow and painful as jogging in Alabama August humidity. When I left, they sent me away with the best lunch/dinner/lunch the next day.

Although a group invited me to join them to go rope cattle in the mountains, it just won't work out for me to be gone for an overnight trip. So I missed out on probably the experience of a lifetime but don't they say, when one door closes, another one opens? Only a few more days left on this trip so hopefully one opens soon!