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| Blue Highway |
My wife and I have
often discussed over the years of traveling the roads of the western United
States. Lord knows, I’ve done the LA-San Diego to San Francisco trip maybe
thirty times, even the SF to Phoenix interstate dance a few times. Twenty-five
years ago we went north to Portland and Bend, Oregon. But the real west, the
old west of cowboy lore and Injuns and pioneers and mountains has eluded us –
and what about the new West – they were all there to be seen. And we, for
forty-five years, had been very remiss.
A favorite high
school author (and still to be sure) was John Steinbeck and when his book Travels with Charley was published in
1962--it became a favorite. It teased me as a teenager about America and the
places that were beyond the prairies of the Chicago and Midwest which
eventually lead to a solo cross-country jaunt in 1969 to LA and San Francisco. Two
years later my bride and I moved from Chicago to San Francisco taking the still,
under construction in places, interstate system using I-70 to Denver, south on
I-25 to Albuquerque, west on I-40 (some of the old Route 66), and eventually
stopping at the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, and finally San Francisco. That was
April 1971.
In 1982 another
American highway travelogue was published, and like Steinbeck, William Least
Heat-Moon in his Blue Highways, tried
to find the true American—who ever they are—by traveling the two lane highways
of America, not the high speed interstates. His book, remarkable for its insight,
clarity, and humor, again struck a cord in my traveling soul. But for the past
twenty-five years Europe and other exotic places called and we answered. The
western trip seemed to elude us, “Maybe next year.” Well this was finally the
year.
Our goal was a
simple clockwise loop, from Walnut Creek to Walnut Creek. This was not to be a
camping trip, no sleeping under the stars. My idea of camping includes marble
countertops in the bathroom (call me a retired boy scout). At my age crawling
out of a sleeping bag is not a pretty sight. But it was also not going to
ultra-first class, economy is good if there’s legroom.
Steinbeck along
with his traveling companion, Charley the poodle, towed a trailer (now in his
Salinas museum) behind a new pickup truck. Heat-Moon drove a green van with a
camp stove and portable toilet. Sorry guys – AARP approved hotels were our base
line and certainly anything above that was more than acceptable. Our horse was
a red Ford Escape with 3000 miles on it when we rolled down the driveway. Our goal
was to see as much as we could in seventeen days. The route is posted below.
First Leg:
Nevada and Idaho
and Montana
I worked as a
consultant to a mining company back in the late 1970s designing a work camp and
support housing near a town called Challis, Idaho. I wanted to see what had
changed.
We went east
through Reno onto Wells, Nevada then north into Idaho and through Twin Falls.
The last time I’d been in Twin Falls was the late 70s. The population then was about
25,000 people and agricultural based – the shock of driving through this now
very modern upsized town of more than 46,000 was stunning (I’m sure the
population was well above that in the surrounding county). Construction and new
growth was everywhere – and as we were to find out almost everywhere - there
has been tremendous growth in the west during the last twenty-five years. After
spending a few days in Ketchum and Sun Valley (where Hemmingway lived from 1935
to 1947 and later died) we headed north into Challis and discovered almost nothing
had changed in forty years. It is still a simple main street town, spectacular
surrounding mountains, and verdant fields and cattle lands below, all flanking
the Salmon River. Its population had gained about 200 people since 1980, now
about 1,000 people call Challis home (the Village Inn where our base camp had
been set up, was exactly the same).
We headed north
into Montana then east to Virginia City, Montana. Montana is Big-Sky country. It’s as open as a when a very young Sacagawea
lead Lewis and Clark through the region in 1805, now cattle populates the great
expanses of the country and not the Shoshone and buffalo. We stayed south of
Butte and west of Bozeman on two lane highways that were in finer shape than
California’s and headed south to the old mining town of Virginia City. What we
did find were small and seemingly prosperous towns and ranches. The country
was, to use an overworked term, awesome. Then on to Yellowstone National Park.
Yellowstone is
worth the visit. I took some good photos of the usual suspects: buffalo and elk,
the Old Faithful geyser, mud boils and the forest recovering from the massive
fires of 1988. The most traffic we ran into (on the whole trip) was at the
entry gate to Yellowstone. One of the funniest incidents were the cars backed
up behind a bull buffalo ambling down the main entry road. He was in no hurry
and his slow ponderous gate proved it. The town (just outside the entry) is
like a cowboy version of Fisherman’s Wharf; I still cringe when I think of it.
The scenery and the underlying geology of Yellowstone is very exciting, but for
drama and great photo opportunities take your time as you travel fifty miles
south to the Grand Tetons and Jackson, Wyoming.
Leg Two:
Wyoming and Utah
While Ketchum and
Sun Valley, Idaho seem a tad artificial and pretentious, Jackson (also referred
to as Jackson Hole), Wyoming exhibited a warmth and what, to us, felt more like
what the modern American west is like. Compact, free parking, good to great
restaurants, and high quality galleries, modern conveniences, and an airport
that takes in Delta and United flights. Fly fishing is a short drive away, a
call will get you guides and float trips to some of the best cutthroat trout
fishing in the world (as well as brown, rainbow, and brook trout). These are
the drainages of the Madison and the Gallatin and Firehole rivers made famous
in a hundred books and movies about trout fishing in the western United States.
We will be back, in many ways the trip was worth the discovery of Jackson Hole.
From Jackson we
headed to Park City, Utah. While Jackson retained some of the character of the
Old West, Park City has all the character of a modern resort subdivision built
outside Salt Lake City. But wait, Park City is
a modern resort subdivision built 35 miles east of Salt Lake City. The 2002
Olympics made the place and even though there were good winter activities
(fueled by Salt Lake and Provo) it was the post Olympic growth of townhome
complexes, modern hotels, and professional in-migration that has fueled it’s
substantial growth. At over 6,000 feet the air is crisp and dry. The old town
is one street (and a hefty climb from one end to the other as well) of the
usual shops, restaurants, and even a brewery. It’s no longer mining that drive
the economy it’s the tourist and second homes. I think, in time, it will be a
big retirement draw as well. Two days was more then enough. But it is the rest
of Utah that can take your breath away – for better or worse.
Stay Tuned . . . .
. . . .
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