Idaho Falls? I'm in Idaho Falls?

Well, I was. Taking a break from insanity, I went to Idaho Falls to visit a friend. Eighteen hours by bus, leaving late in the afternoon, arriving at noon. When I got out at the 2am stop, I realized something. There was snow on the ground. Yes, intellectually I knew there was snow in Utah and Idaho in the winter. But I'm from Los Angeles. We keep our snow sensibly on the mountains, and go visit it from time to time. We don't live in it.

Snow there was. I got some great pictures of snowy mountains and houses and reflections in the window of the passengers on the bus. My camera was of the type that sucked its lens back in when turned off, so having an attachable filter was a non-starter. But the pictures remind me of the trip. They don't have to be shared. [*sniff*]

So for a week, I stayed in Idaho Falls, where the temperature never got above freezing. The house was warm, the company marvelous, the futon couch comfy if difficult to get out of. I was introduced by my host and his two sons to anime. I enjoyed it very much. It snowed several times, but nothing substantial. Enough to make snow angels. I could ask no more.

My host, Bob, took me on a tour of the highlights of Idaho Falls, which took all of an afternoon. I did get some pictures of the Falls of Idaho Falls, which were lovely all frozen over. I also meandered around the neighborhood taking pictures. [Here]I found when I got home that I had managed to gather a collection of prints of various creatures meandering thru the snow. Find them here.

On Sunday, Bob and I took off fairly early for Yellowstone. It was quite likely Yellowstone was closed, but since I was in the area, I wanted to go as far as I could. So off we went, thru the Grand Tetons and the snow. I took five thousand pictures, well, ok, 4,990, of pine trees covered in snow, gorgeous vistas as we topped a hill, trees covered in snow, and lakes and rivers and mountains and trees covered in snow.

Jackson, WY, was fun. Touristy, but fun. We did in fact make it all the way to the south entrance of Yellowstone, which was closed. But driving the roads of the Grand Tetons National Forest with nobody else on the road was a delight. I got a great example of how to drive on ice and snow without having to flinch about running into someone else. It was a tad slippery.

We took the long 'way round, coming in to Jackson. We took 26 to 89, then north thru Jackson. When we came home, the GPS said the shorter route was over Teton Pass. I don't do really well on twisty mountain roads, but I was fine with Teton Pass. I couldn't see over the side because the snow had been piled at least 8 feet high. Part way up the pass, Bob flipped a switch, saying 4-wheel drive is for wusses, but in this case it might be wise. I gave him a startled look and asked, have we been driving without it all along? Yup, said Bob.  Swell.

We did stop sliding around so much, which was good in the face of oncoming traffic. There were a couple of places where the two lanes, one each way, got very... shall we say, friendly. Fortunately when we went around the "friendlier" corners, there was no oncoming traffic. One of the niftier sights along the pass was the crowd of skiers along the side of the road. The vans were letting them off there, and were going to pick the skiers at the bottom of the hill.

The following day, my day of departure, the trees were covered in frost crystals. None of the pictures I took captured the incredibleness of trees seemingly covered in diamond crystals. Ohmy it was gorgeous.

At noon, I got back on the bus, headed south. My days of frost and snow were over.

Long Road Home

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Headin' outta Flagstaff

Early in the morning, the San Francisco Peaks stand behind the trees and meadows around Flagstaff. The grass alongside the road was bright with sunflowers and indian paintbrush.

The day is clear, the road not so much. It's not as bad as LA during rush hour, but I've got a lot of pictures with the butt end of a truck in them.

The road starts down the long slope to Seligman, with enthusiastic sunflowers to wave as we go by.

I took this picture to capture the winding road. I didn't realize until later, I had a picture that showed the blaze of vivid mustard on both sides of the road.

Imagine both sides of the road awash in golden blooms. The Yellow Brick Road was never so golden.

Edged in the ever-present sunflowers.

Six percent grade, headed down out of the mountains.

Road is steep, the view is magnificent. I remember driving this grade last week, tucked in behind a trucker, strobe flashes of lightning showing the mountains around me, the downpour trying to wash us all off the road. This is easier, but... that was exciting!

West of Flagstaff, long sections of Route 66 no longer exist as a separate road. Segments may exist as dirt roads on private property, or simply a wide stripe through the trees. The bare green stripes to the right of the road may be all that's left of Route 66 in this place.

Sometimes, road crews just cut on through, adapting the land to our needs.

And sometimes, we gotta go around

I've taken a lot of pictures of mountains, clouds, sky, but I never get over my delight and joy at the layers of colors and textures each vista presents.

Sometimes looking like cardboard cutouts or painted backdrops for a play.

Crossing the Colorado,

the pictures are full of railing and railroad bridge.

The view back across the valley shows the Colorado River and the green of the agriculture that it generates.

Casualties of the road. And stacked neatly behind, their ever ready replacements.

Heading into the Mojave

The joshua trees in bloom.

Driving thru the Mojave, sometimes the only sign of man's impact is the double ribbon of the interstate sliding into the hazy distance, punctuated by signs, rest stops, and very small towns.

When you think of desert, often low rolling sand dunes come to mind. The Mojave has long rolling hills of rock and sparse scrub.

This dry lake brings to mind the words of the song "Horse With No Name" about a river that's dead. Rivers in deserts are never dead, only dormant. If you can see the riverbed, it's been scoured clean by flashflood, and kept alive by the sporadic rainfall. This lakebed still lives, probably flourishing when the snow melts.

The Mojave has some fascinating geology: lava flows

  
And mountains with a split personality. I saw a lot of cloud shadows on the land, and thought this was another. It's not.

And, of course, the many layers of landscape I love.

  
The mountains seemingly floating in the distance.

Sometimes the road gets a bit crowded. I have more faith in the common sense of long haul truckers than I do many others on the road, but even so...

It's a leetle tight in here.

These power transmission lines may be bringing power in from Hoover Dam. They're coming from the right direction.

End Of The Road

Coming to the end of Interstate 40, into Barstow, and then back into LA.

Interstate 15, Los Angeles to Las Vegas.

It probably goes other places, but I always end in Vegas.
Or LA.

These are the backsides of the mountains that ring the LA basin.

I suppose I should have taken more pics as we went thru LA. Maybe the mountains from the other side. But I've seen the mountains, and the traffic. If you want to come visit, I'll give you a tour. Right now, I'm taking a nap. It's been a long trip.

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Mr. Spock, set the landscape on stun

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Start of Day

The day started in Santa Fe, with one lone cloud hanging out over the mountains on the east.

There was a great deal of construction down the center of I-25. Having gone thru far too much road construction everywhere, it took a while to realize it wasn't road improvement, they were building rail down the center.


And of course, the one lone cloud.
Coming back into Albuquerque, early in the day, I couldn't get any decent shots of the color of the land. But Albuquerque itself believes in color,
(junction of I-25 and I-40, every piece had this brilliant blue stripe)

and shapes.


Sometimes Route 66 would be parallel to I-40, sometimes wandering off over the landscape to pop up somewhere else. Some sections still remain.

This old steel-truss bridge was in unbelievably good shape.
Unfortunately, it was not wide enough for more than one car to cross at a time,

And was replaced with a wider, but boring new section, before being completely replaced by Interstate 40 over there.

The lava fields were much more visible on this leg of the trip.

    

New Mexico-Arizona Border: In sunshine this time

Coming up on the amazing border geology again, this time with the company of a freight train.

Looking down tracks is just as compelling a view as highways stretching into the distance.

Viewing the cliffs in the sun this time, with all their glorious colors on display.

    
Being the one driving while crossing out of New Mexico, I had this... This amazing piece of landscape in the rear view mirror. Every time I looked back, I felt my brain stop working, just wanting to stare at the cliffs. This is not a good thing to do while driving, and I felt very relieved when I finally crossed over a hill and could no longer see it.


Somebody had it in for me, however. Having missed the Painted Desert on the way out, we picked it up on the way back.

Nothing prepared me for the problem of running out of adjectives.
I had an idea what was coming. But can you imaging the expressions on the faces of the first explorers who had never seen this land before, traveling across country that looked like this:

And getting this!

Landscape on Stun!

How do you prepare for running out of adjectives? Glorious. Awesome. Unbelievable. Stunning. I think I was seriously stuck on stunned.
Followed closely by *gasp*


    
A lot of rock formations show their layers on a slant, as the earth twists and deforms to create mountains. The amazing Chinle Formation runs the gamut from reds to grays, all in relatively horizontal stripes.

    

Adjective Generator, She be broke

When I got to the "Blue Mesa," I realized my adjective generator had completely broken down. I was pretty much left with stunned.
And the ever descriptive *gasp*

    
There is water in this desert

Newspaper Rock: Petroglyphs. They look better if you view the larger image and then magnify the markings on the dark rock.

When this wash was first discovered, it full of petrified wood. It was carried away by the truck-load, blasted for the amethysts and quartz within, vanished to be used for doorstops. It is estimated that one ton of petrified wood is stolen from the Petrified Forest every year, even though there are legitimate places to buy it outside the National Park. At one time, this was was full. Now, this is all that remains here.

There are still scattered pockets of petrified wood throughout the park

And around the museum

     
On some pieces,you can still see the grain of the wood

  
Life will find toe-holds in any pocket that will hold dirt

All that's left is dusk over the Colorado Plateau, and on into Flagstaff for the night.


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