The 511 miles from Wapiti, WY to West Wendover, NV had the most diverse forms of landscape, texture, smells and temperature. Glad to have the rain pants to add as a layer of comfort headed into the mountains. Excited, I eagerly handed the man my twenty bucks to get me through the eastern gate of Yellowstone National Park. Feeling like the amusement park was open exclusively for me I would eventually pass through the Grand Tetons to the Salt Flats of Nevada.
Driving through Yellowstone I found myself the only person on the road. Occasionally people would pass by as I was taking a picture but it was so nice to be able to leisurely pass through the park at my own pace. Around every corner brought something new from the Bison who was 8 feet away to the giant pelicans in the lake whose shore had thermal areas of boiling water, to the majestic mountains. The pictures that accompany this leg of the journey hopefully give you a sense of vastness of the park.
The Grand Tetons live up to the name bestowed upon them. Stopping many times to take photos, much more than I needed, headed toward Jackson Hole where I planned on having lunch. Just outside of Jackson Hole I noticed a motorcycle pull off the road a few miles up. Thinking back on my promise I pulled over to ask if they needed assistance. Erin, a skinny white guy sporting a handle bar type moustache similar to “Yosemite Sam” but black, said he ran out of gas. I told him about similar fate back in South Dakota and offered him a ride a few miles up the road. Borrowing a gas can he filled it as I took the opportunity to fill my tank as well. He hopped back on the bike holding the gas can in one hand and to the bike with the other back to his yellow Harley Sportster. I waited until he started to drive off with the empty gas can balancing between his stomach and the tank. I saw him pulled over again but it was because the can blew off and to the side of the road. I waved to him as I passed by headed toward the southeast corner of Idaho one of the states I have never visited.
I spoke to another biker who was from Seattle that was traveling on a small 350 and explained how it took him so much longer to get places. Asking where I was headed he was curious about the Salt Flats outside of Salt Lake City and thought about heading that way. I wished him luck as I drove off past Bear Lake, which was split in half bordering Idaho and Utah.
Many of the towns I passed through had names that were very familiar to my life. Reflecting as I passed through Bloomington, Idaho having the same name of the city I grew up. There was Garden City, which reminded me of my friend Kenny who invited me to join his family for Christmas in Garden City, NY. Providence, another school I applied for grad school was RISD located in Rhode Island. Paris, Idaho, which brought up memories of the Eifel Tower that I seen some 20 years previous. Grateful for the memories of all the wonderful opportunities I have had to experience and the fascinating people I have met along the way.
Passing through Salt Lake City I ran up to catch 4 bikers that were ahead of me. It became sort of a game and a way to pass the time. Approaching the group I noticed a man riding his Harley with Ape Hanger handlebars, who was wearing nothing but a pair of cut off shorts, yellow tinted aviator glasses and flip-flops. No shoes, no shirt, no helmet ( he was bald so at first I thought it was his helmet ) and smiling like he had it all figured out. I rode with them for a good stretch until they took an exit outside the city limits toward Burmester.
Chasing the sun toward the Salt Flats I wanted to checkout the Bonneville Speedway. Not realizing I had a long stretch ahead of me that was pretty straight and monotonous. The one thing that was breaking up the boredom was the beautiful quality of light and all of the shrines made out of bottles that were along the highway or mini salt castle creations. Car tracks would head off the road and try their luck driving through the white salty compound sometimes getting stuck and others making beautiful patterns that looked like individual signatures. I was wearing a jacket that was given to me from a good friend and his wife who’s brother died in one of the trade center buildings. Her brother was really into motorcycles and wearing his jacket felt as if he was traveling along with me.
Making my way to Bonneville Speedway it was late and not much going on so I headed toward the border of Nevada. Pressing on where I gassed up in the town of Wendover, which bordered Utah and Nevada. One could tell they were in Nevada because hotel and casino’s were everywhere. Looking for a place to stay I stumble upon the RED GARTER hotel and casino with a rate of $27.95 per night. Hell I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to stay at the Red Garter.
In the lobby I met a newly retired couple that was traveling to 5 states in 5 days on their Harley. Nice people, she was in the day care business and sold off a number of them and he was a ski patrol in Utah. Ended up having a drink with them after dinner in the hotel bar where all kinds of characters seemed to be congregating. There was the um dancer who explained to us how she makes her own costumes and incorporates her yoga poses into her routine, the trucker who was traveling along with a parrot, the DUDE ( as he called himself ) who was a blackjack dealer in one of the casinos and a few others that added flavor to the evening.
This was a long day and I saw such extremes in terrain from the Great Divide where the odometer read 18,000 miles exactly at an elevation close to 8,000 feet to the salt flats that went on for miles. What a terrific day full of smiles, thoughts of friends and reflection.
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