Stayed in Tucumcari, NM last night. Headed out towards Amarillo, TX in a few minutes.

Gonna get my kicks on Route 66.

Some friends are having me for dinner.

Alferd Packer had some friends for dinner, too.

Utah, lit by the light of the moon.

I didn't notice when I crossed the Utah border. Zipping through the mountains along Route 50, I didn't notice a sign. It was sometime after passing the big herd of elk near the Humbolt National Forest and when I stopped for gas in Delta, UT.

For the past few days I've been wondering what type of photo I'd take at the UT state border. How would I memorialize the moment -- the very minute I set foot in a new state for the fiftieth time -- that I first dreamed about eight summers ago?

Eight years ago my buddy Dave and I decided to drive out to New Mexico on a whim. Six years ago my buddy Darf and I decided to see the biggest ball of twine and open accounts at the Tightwad Bank, stopping off in as many obscure places as we could. Four years ago the boss sent me up to Alaska. Two summers ago I took a drive through Death Valley, the Mojave Desert, and a ghost town in western Nevada.

That left me with four states I had never been to. Moving from Anchorage to the east coast was the perfect excuse to complete the task.

As for memorializing that grand moment... well, I'll have to think of something. I was probably fifteen or twenty miles into Utah before I realized it. No gigantic WELCOME TO UTAH sign to photograph. No general store to pick up a cheesy souvenir.

But don't worry. I stopped for the night near Salina, UT. The next day I enjoyed the most magnificent drive through scenic Utah -- first on I-70, then on US 191, and picking up Utah Route 128 in Moab.

The Robber's Roost in Green River, UT.

Near Moab, UT.

The drive along Utah Route 128 was amazing, following the Colorado River along the east side of Arches National Park.

Arches National Park, from Route 128.

So now I'm relaxing in Denver. Took a full day off from driving. Tomorrow I'll be headed down through Colorado Springs, and from there? Who knows.

I-70, near Grand Junction, CO.

So I'm a little behind on the bloggy goodness. Lack of wireless access whilst traversing the middle of nowhere.

The other day I headed out of Bliss, ID and drove around looking for something to snap photos of. That area of Idaho is peppered with waterfalls, and I managed to find Shoshone Falls.

Shoshone Falls in Idaho. Taller than Niagra Falls.

After that I headed down the two-lane blacktop towards Nevada, and launched a few postcards from Jackpot, NV.

Stacey the Cowgirl in Jackpot, NV.

Met an interesting character at the post office -- she was headed from parts unknown towards Vegas. After chatting with Stacey for a little while, I headed back down US Route 93 towards Ely -- pronounced Ellie.

Stage Stop, in Lages Station, NV.

Blew through Lages Station -- a one-building town.

McGill, NV.

Stopped for a few minutes in McGill, NV.

5 trout limit, on Highway 50 heading towards Utah.

I picked up US Route 50 in Ely, NV. Route 50 in Nevada has earned the moniker of the loneliest road in America. I only drove the eastern most 60 miles or so, but I'm a believer. The first 100 miles across the Utah state line was much of the same.

A small butterfly sitting on the hood of my car.

These are the decisions I face every day. Straight ahead towards Delta, UT? Or make the right towards the Hoover Dam?

I sat at the junction of 50 and 93 for a little while. I couldn't decide whether to keep heading east, or turn south.

I decided to press on towards Utah. Nevada was beautiful, but I had one more state I had never visited, and it was just over that mountain.

In Denver. Everything is well. Might update today; might update tomorrow.

So after a having a blast with my cousin Pat and his wife Kate last night, I headed east towards Idaho.

After a long drive through the Columbia River Gorge -- incredible scenery, with hydroelectric dams and enormous wind turbines along the way -- the road turned south towards rolling hills.

California has happy cows. Oregon has menacing cows. That, or they are just leery of strangers.

I've been doing my best to stay off the interstates this trip, but I-84 in the west is a spectacle.

Near the Idaho border.

Finally I crossed the border into Idaho. For those keeping score, that means I've been to 49 of the 50 states.

Watch your back, Utah. You're next.

I haven't decided for sure where I'm headed next -- Salt Lake City, or head south to Route 50 in Nevada. Either way I'll be in Utah within the next day or so.

A wind farm near the Nevada border.

A passed a few trucks carrying the blades for those turbines; they are G-I-N-O-R-M-O-U-S. It's got to take a stiff breeze to get them moving, and this part of the country sure seems windy enough.

This trip has been 'epic' so far.

I logged a bunch of miles today, but the traffic was flowing around 70mph in Oregon, and near 80mph in Idaho. A good nights sleep, some poking around the side roads while I figure how where to head next, and then I'll probably make my way down towards central Utah. I think. Maybe.

I dunno.

We'll see where the next day takes me.

Reader Comment of the Week: I've had the comments shut down so that I don't have to deal with spam during the trip. I have received quite a few e-mails so far. This one, from MKS, takes the cake:

please try not to die on this trip.
thank you,
the management

Heh.

UPDATE: Had dinner with my cousin Pat and his wife Kate.

Hadn't seen him in at least 20 years.

Light day of travel, light day of photography.

Gonna visit my cousin and his wife tonight. Tomorrow I'll be crossing another state off the list when I slip across the border to Idaho.

Missed a turn today and ended up passing an Air Museum. Seemed like a good place to stop and have lunch.

Old MiG-17.

This might be the last dispatch for a day or two. Not sure, as I head towards the Rockies, if I'll have access to the interwebs.

Don't fret. You'll get caught up on all the happenings in good time.

So I decided to avoid the I-5, and headed down Highway 101 towards Oregon, moving along the two-lane blacktop at the speed of slack. I am on vacation, after all. I really had no idea where I was headed, or where I'd end up tonight, or what I'd be doing along the way.

Kind of like Lewis & Clark. Except in a car. By myself. And stuff.

Like Lewis & Clark. Except different.

First I had to make it to the coast, which I did near Cosmopolis, WA.

You don't see many black and white cop cars these days.

I went off of Highway 101 to Cape Disappointment. Checked out the 100-something year old lighthouse.

Steps to the North Head lighthouse.

Back in the day, the lighthouse at Cape Disappointment wasn't visible to ships coming in from the north, so they built a second lighthouse.

Fresnel lens of the North Head lighthouse.

The two volunteers working at the lighthouse told me about some of the wrecks along the Graveyard of the Pacific, specifically of the Peter Iredale. So I decided to check it out.

The Peter Iredale rests (and rusts) on the beach in Oregon.

Pretty neat seeing a skeleton of an old ship just wasting away. More on the ship here.

I headed back down Highway 101 a bit, and pulled off for the night in Rockaway Beach. Fortunately the summer rates for the hotels don't kick in for a few more weeks, so I'm staying on the beach, in style, on the cheap.

The sunset from my motel room.

I have seriously no idea where I'm headed tomorrow. Northern California? Idaho? A short trip to Portland? I dunno. I'll figure something out.

So I'm back in the States. Olympia, Washington to be specific. The wait at customs was about 45 minutes or so, but once it was my turn I was through in under a minute. Nothing to declare; same luggage, same laptop, same camera, same air in the tires.

Crossing the 49th Parallel.

Decided to avoid the interstate as long as possible. Wandered around on Route 9 in Washington for a while. It was cloudy and foggy, so no good views of the mountains yet. A few of the geeky spots near Mt. Saint Helens are still closed for the winter, so I might skip it. I mean, I've seen volcanoes before. In fact, I'm a little sick of volcanoes right now.

I stopped for lunch in (or near) Nooksack, WA. The gal behind the counter was amazed at my cell phone. I could almost hear the banjo music playing in the background.

While heading south I stopped to snap a few photos in Acme, WA. A local fellow wondered why so many people stop to take photos of their post office.

Acme, WA.

We chatted for a moment while I made sure his big black dog wasn't going to attack me, and he asked if I had one of them GSs -- which I correctly assumed meant GPS. Which I do. In fact, it came in handy earlier in the day when I missed a road sign on a back road and managed to head a few miles out of the way. Knowing that I was a few degrees further east than the road I wanted, I just doubled back and got myself back on track.

I was going to take Route 9 all the way south of Seattle before heading over, but for some reason I saw the sign for I-5 and made the turn.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

Let's just say that rather than taking I-5 out of Olympia tomorrow morning, I'll be heading west and catching Highway 101. Give me the two-lane blacktop any day.

So a nice relaxing drive through the country, bookended by a 45-minute wait in line at the border crossing and bumper to bumper traffic through Seattle. At least I've knocked another state off the list. For those scoring at home, I'm down to Washington Oregon, Idaho, and Utah. Gimme a couple of days to wander around and I'll have been to all fifty states in under 10 years.

Pulled out of Cache Creek this morning, and headed towards the BC Route 99, which is also known as the Sea to Sky Highway.

Some barbed wire along the way.

This fellow was wandering around outside the wire.

With the number of twelve and thirteen percent grades I was up and down today, I'm looking forward to driving I-40 through Oklahoma. Sheesh. So I'm down a windshield, a headlight, and after today's ride probably a set of brakes.

Ridiculous hairpin turn on Route 99 -- one of many.

It was worth it, though. I can't begin to describe the sights along the road. I took some photos, but on a road like this you eventually have to put the camera away and start driving.

The Hangman's Tree in Lillooet, BC.

I stopped for lunch in Lillooet -- pronounced Lil-oo-et -- and wandered around for a while. Made my way up to a park overlooking the town and the Fraser River. I had a chat with Greg the retired railroad guy for a while. As we stood a few yards from the tree from which murderers received their due, our conversation turned to Clifford Olson, a notorious serial killer in British Columbia who murdered a dozen children during the early 1980s. A friend of Greg's lost his daughter to the madman. He's a cook, and he applied for a job in the prison -- he wanted to be Clifford Olson's personal chef.

We both agreed that the government would probably never let that happen. We also agreed that a hundred years ago, a man like that wouldn't be having a parole hearing every two years.

The tree where Lillooet dispensed justice is no longer standing. It was alive and well in the early 1970s, but by the late-1980s it was barely alive. The town decided to cut it down before it fell on it's own. Now it serves as a reminder of a time when the law meant justice -- sometimes harsh, sometimes misplaced -- rather than the complex legal maze we have today. I don't know if we're better off, or not. I'll leave the debate to the scholars. All I know is that three decades later, someone still wants to poison a rat kept in a cage in Quebec.

I headed further along Route 99, past Seton Lake.

Seton Lake.

A fellow by the name of Mike was enjoying the weather, strumming his guitar not far from where that photo was taken. The weather was amazing -- in the high 60s -- and Mike is enjoying a month of from work, too. He and his fiancee are headed to a resort in Mexico next week; his first trip outside of Canada.

Mike works in the tar sands. I asked how that's going, with the price of oil being so low. Getting oil from shale and/or tar sands is expensive, and is only profitable when the price of oil goes way up. His company, which he was obviously proud of, doesn't shut down when the price bottoms out. They build, increasing their capacity for when the price eventually goes back up.

For a while he was working up in northern Alberta near a Canadian bombing range. Part of his training in the oil field included how to identify unexploded ordnance. I guess if you're a guitarist, you want all your fingers. Heh.

My last stop on the way to North Vancouver was in the small town of Pemberton.

Pemberton Engine #1.

Potatoes are banned in Pemberton. I'm sure there's a reason, but I didn't ask why. All over Canada I've seen signs urging folks to help deal with invasive foreign species -- plants and animals and insects that aren't native to the area, but once introduced begin to thrive and crowd out native species. I remember the snakeheads they found in that pond in Crofton, Maryland a few years ago.

So now I'm in Vancouver. The weather is great. The ride today was phenomenal. I'm going to get some grub and call it a day.

Tomorrow... I haven't decided if I'm going to cross the 49th parallel and head south, or if I'll wander around George Vancouver's old stomping grounds. I'm sure I'll figure it out by check out time.

I bolted out of Canmore, AB this morning, not quite sure of where I was headed.

I was looking to avoid avalanches.

Fortunately, British Columbia built avalanche tunnels. When the snow rumbles down the mountain, it passes over the road and railroad tracks on top of the tunnel.

Strange going through a tunnel that has sunlight coming in through the walls. Usually we think of tunnels as going underwater or through a mountain. The avalanche tunnels are more or less an off-ramp for the barrage of snow that slides down the mountain from time to time.

There were also a few wildlife overpasses -- bridges built to allow elk and deer and other critters a chance to cross the highway without the hassle of interacting with me, 18-wheelers, or tourists from Quebec.

One last shot of the Canadian Rockies.

Just rusting away in rural British Columbia.

Kamloops Lake, near Savona, BC.

I made it to Kamloops and decided to press on for a little while. It was still relatively early in the afternoon -- especially since I gained an extra hour switching to Pacific Time. After passing through some gorgeous farm country as the sun was getting low, I stopped for the night in Cache Creek. In the morning I'll have to decide whether to take the Trans-Canada down to Vancouver, or if I'll take Route 99 -- which might be more scenic.

I'm leaning towards the scenic route ;-)

Today I took a break from driving from point A to point B. Instead I just drove around the Canadian Rockies for a few hours, until I ended up where I started.

I could almost stay another day, and just drive around again. Hat Tip to Geologist Jay, who suggested I "bag Calgary" and spend a half-day driving through the Rockies.

On the way to Banff.

He was probably checking out the same sights I was.

Corvus corax.

Near the Saskatchewan River Crossing.

Along the Icefield Highway, on the way back towards Lake Louise.

Tomorrow I'm going to head out early in the direction of Vancouver. How far I make it depends on how many photos I stop to take. If the drive is anything like what I saw today, I'm figuring I won't get past Kaloomps, BC. That'll put me in Vancouver early on Tuesday; Seattle on Wednesday.

I've got a friend who happens to be driving up from Florida to Anchorage, and I'm hoping to at least grab lunch along the way. We'll see if that works out.

Oh, no way!

The trip so far.

Right outside Banff.

Blew through Edmonton.

Took some sunset photos near Red Deer, AB. I'll be running those through the HDR software once I'm settled on the East Coast.

Decided to skip Calgary and spend a day or two patrolling the Canadian Rockies. As they say, flexibility is the key to air power road trips.

For the most part, I'm not a fan of northern or central Alberta. Flat. Boring. At least the little bit of traffic was moving along at around 120 km/h. I like the Yukon much better. Although the hotels and gas are much cheaper down here.

At least Alberta has passing lanes.

Yes. I spent 45 minutes of my life wandering around northern British Columbia behind this clown.

What has two thumbs and just finished the Alaska Highway?

This guy!

The end of the highway is guarded by a Muffler Man.

More on Muffler Men here.

So the ride down from Fort Nelson was uneventful. I snapped a few photos, but they'll have to wait until mid-May when I can run them through the HDR program. Other than that I just trucked on through. Probably should have stopped and taken a few more, but there wasn't anything that really caught my eye.

Fort Saint John and Dawson Creek are the first real "cities" I've hit since I left Anchorage. That's 1,600 miles of open country.

Overall the ALCAN is in great shape. I can't imagine driving some of the hills when they RVs and trailers are flooding the area. Some 8-10% grades that would bog them down.

I did pull into an open gas station with a sign: No gas -- next station 125mi / 200 km. Good thing I've been living off the top of the tank.

Next up: Edmonton and Calgary. I think. Now that I actually have some choices I'm going to see where I want to go.

Signpost Forest at Watson Lake in the Yukon.

Hitching a ride.

Made it from Whitehorse, YT to Fort Nelson, BC without a problem. Was tempted (for a split second) to drive on, but it was getting dark. Too many animals on the road today. Was stuck behind a bison for a little while. Nearly hit an eagle that was feasting on what used to be a bison. It must have either starved to death this winter, or was perhaps killed by a vehicle. I can't imagine hitting one of those things. A few other animals that I didn't bother to stop for -- owls, moose, etc...

My advice to anyone who drives the ALCAN (officially called the Alaska Highway) out of season: top off the tank often. Over a 100-mile stretch I passed five gas stations that were closed for winter; the pumps buried in six feet of snow.

From what the locals have said, the winter wasn't especially cold in the Yukon; they just got much more snow than usual. The ALCAN is completely clear, though, except for a few spots between Whitehorse and Watson Lake. Ran into some flurries, which turned into a whiteout for around five or ten minutes. Once I crested the top of the mountain it was smooth sailing for the next few hundred miles.

Tomorrow it's on to Dawson Creek and beyond. Unless I wake up and decide to take a side trip to the NWT.

Made it to Whitehorse without any issues. In fact, made it through customs in under 90 seconds. The next leg gets tricky, because many of the gas stations won't open until the tourist season gets underway. I guess there's a few stretches of over 100 miles without a gas station. Rule of thumb: top off the tank every time you pass a gas pump.

So far, 716 miles traveled in just under 16 hours. That includes stops to snap photos, fuel up, grab a bite to eat.

Early this morning it was -6°F (-21°C for those in Canukistan). It's much nicer now. A few more days and I'll be above freezing for good.

Headed to bed early, then off towards British Columbia in the morning.

Update: Forgot to add -- the tenth anniversary of the creation of Nunavut, for those who might find that interesting.

The winds shifted and if Redoubt goes up again (and it will) the ash will head towards Anchorage.

It's not that I'm apathetic about the volcano -- now that I've left -- it's that I just don't care ;-)

If anyone is hungry, there's fresh ptarmigan around mile 68 of the Glenn Highway. I was waiting to see which side of the road the bird was going to head for. It just stood there, waiting for me to run it over.

Let that be a warning to the rest of the little critters: I will not swerve to avoid you. This warning does not apply to moose, elk, caribou, bison, bears, wolves, deer, antelope, et. al.

jp

In the summer, the sun barely sets in Anchorage. North of the Arctic Circle -- where this photo was snapped around 11pm one summer evening (by Brandon Serna) -- it doesn't set.

However, in winter it is cold and dark. So I'm headed to Del Boca Vista for a few weeks.

Blogging will commence when I return.

Yep.

Only a few more months.

My father and my uncle standing at the foot of my great-grandfather's house in what used to be Armstrong's Corner, New Brunswick.

How cool is this new film scanner? Click the extended entry to see the detail...

Continue reading "Armstrong's Corner"

Mayhill, New Mexico.

I've been scanning in old negatives lately. This one is from a trip through Vermont a few years ago.

Pronounced like size-six, rather than physics.

Today is 07-07-07...

The sun is setting on my Mojave Desert adventure. In a short while I'll be hittin' the road and headed to "El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula." I'll be back in Alaska on Tuesday.

Probably not much on the blog until then.

You'd have an amazing sunset photo.

But I didn't. Places to go, things to do. You'll have to enjoy the six o'clock version instead of the eight o'clock version.

And all these photos that I've posted in the past week will get a touch up in Photoshop when I'm back in Alaska. There's a few that could use a little tweak here and there.

This one is a little overexposed. With a digital camera, that's bad.

Continue reading "The train kept a-rollin'"

The road winds through the Devil's Playground Wash near Kelso, California.

I met Lester and his girl in Baker, California. He was trying to fry an egg on the ground in the parking lot of Bob's Big Boy.

Did it work?

Continue reading "Hot enough to fry an egg?"

...on Route 66.

Ludlow, California.

Siberia, California. Not much left.

More here.

All that remains of Siberia is the train that rumbles through. Two excellent photos here and here.

There are five four states that I have never visited.

Oregon.
Washington.
Nevada.
Utah.
Idaho.

I figure I'll start saving my leave when I get back, and take a big roadtrip through the last four in two years.

The temperature in Death Valley on Saturday was in the ballpark of 121°F.

That's hot.

A desert spiny lizard. I think.

It was hanging out in the old school building in Rhyolite, Nevada.

I never saw a badger before. Not the greatest photo.

I'm just bragging that I saw a badger this weekend.

Not quite happy with this one.

I'm going to have to find me another cactus.

What's left of Rhyolite, Nevada.

The dunes near Stovepipe Wells, just before sunset.

A coyote near Furnace Creek in Death Valley.

I'm in Lancaster, and I'll be visiting Death Valley.

Strangely, there's no antelopes. Probably too hot: it'll be 97°F every day this week.

Continue reading "Hanging in the Antelope Valley"

UPDATE 18 NOV 2006: Check here for more on our trip to Tightwad.

So my roadtrip buddy -- Darf-man -- decides he's gonna pack up and move to middle-of-nowhere Australia. I've had friends threaten to do such a thing. With Darf, I had no doubt he'd eventually be living down-under. Note the anti-kangaroo defenses on the front of the car. Cool.

Continue reading "Road trips"

UPDATE 18 Nov 2006: Check here for more on the trip to Tightwad.

Road trips have always appealed to me. As a kid, vacations always had their genesis in the Dawson Family Truckster. From our home in New York, we traveled up and down I-95 from the Canadian border to Florida.

Traveling by air is quicker, but the only scenery is the back of the seat in front of you. A road trip allows you, quite literally, to see where you're going. Getting there is half the fun.

I also enjoy the independence of being behind the wheel, or at least riding shotgun. There are major attractions, unusual stops, educational and historical sites, and scenic wonders to be taken in. Where next? Priorities are set, and decisions are made, and a course is plotted. One hundred miles down the road something unique catches your eye, and the plans are adjusted. In a way, it's a bit like surfing from link to link across the web, except at 55 70 100 mph.

When Darf and I set out on the big 28 state road trip in 2003 we put Tightwad, Missouri on our list of destinations. The original plan was to open a checking account at the Tightwad Bank. Unfortunately, there was no longer a "Tightwad Bank." I didn't see the point in opening an account in the Tightwad Branch of UMB Financial. On top of that, the bank's office was closed. The drive-thru was open, and we were able to liberate a few souvenir key chains.

A local remarked that she found it funny when tourists stopped to take photos of the city limits sign. We were a little frustrated that Tightwad didn't have a post office, and after a quick stop at the general store we headed out towards St. Louis.

Earlier that day we witnessed a Pontiac Firebird going the wrong way on Highway 71. Considering we were in the city of Peculiar, it shouldn't have been a surprise.

My buddy Darf and I stumbled across this gem in Mount Vernon, Illinois a few years ago, about half-way through our 28 state road trip. We needed to fuel up the Darf-mobile, and pulled into a gas station right along side this beauty.

There was a tall lanky fellow walking across the parking lot decked out in an ankle-length trench coat [with ruffles], a "shirt" made of what looked like fishnet, and some heavy mascara. Inquiring about the car and its owner, he directed me to see Beefie, who was running a register inside the gas station.

I asked Beefie [or Beefy? I didn't ask about the spelling] if I could take a few snapshots of his Picaso-on-wheels. He didn't seem to understand why someone would want to photograph the vehicle. Is it possible that this poetry in motion was not so much an extension of the Beef-man's personality, but merely a means of transportation?

I asked the Beef-meister if I could snap a quick portrait of him, and his eyes lit up. "Lemme show ya my ink!"

Continue reading "Beefie and the Beav"

Have you ever stumbled across a Muffler Man in your travels? Roadside America has an entire web portal dedicated to tracking the elusive giants, which can be found in almost all of the lower 48 states.

Technically, this guy in the photo to the right is considered a "lumberjack" or "Bunyan" -- a subspecies of the classic Muffler Man. You probably didn't know it, but there's a diverse fiberglass ecosystem out there along the nation's highways and byways. You've got Uniroyal Gals, Happy Halfwits, Big Chiefs, and some strange mutants.

This bad boy towers over the Anne Arundel County Fairgrounds in Crownsville, Maryland. I snapped this shot two years ago [almost to the day].

Sadly, there are no known Muffler Men here in Alaska. Probably for the best. The environmentalists would be complaining that they frightened the caribou during breeding season.

I can't say I'd blame them -- having one of these monsters look in on you would be a total mood killer.

Continue reading "Muffler Man"

Back in the summer of 2003, my buddy Darf and I embarked on a 28 state roadtrip. Darf was excited to put the pedal to the metal in Montana, where he believed there was no speed limit.

What he was envisioning is the period in the late 1990s when the daytime speed limit in Montana was "reasonable and prudent." After a few years, someone challenged a speeding ticket, and it went all the way to the state Supreme Court. The court struck down the "reasonable and prudent" speed limit, claiming it was too vague. It took several months for the state to come up with a numerical speed limit; for the next five months or so, there was actually no daytime speed limit in Montana [outside of urban areas]. In 1999, Montana settled on 75 miles per hour, and they've been out of the news ever since.

75 MPH is where the speed limit stood when Darf and I made our way to Big Sky Country. We cruised south from Billings towards the Wyoming border at what seemed like a reasonable and prudent speed. With the sun shining, the top down, and the radio blasting out some tunes, who would dare disagree?

Continue reading "Reasonable and prudent"