My mom and I were on a seven-week road trip across the USA. We were now headed north from the desolate, high desert of Utah, and west into the lush area known as Cascadia and the Pacific Northwest.
November 8: Moab to Ogden, Utah. Starting mileage: 35,334.
When we left our brand new hotel in Moab, workers were finally hanging the sign. It was windy, and red sand scattered across the road like snow. We were so happy about seeing Arches National Park yesterday. And though the poor car was still a dusty mess, we were leaving Moab with clean clothes and great memories.
Today, the plan was to drive north, mosey through Salt Lake City, and then drive over the seven-mile causeway out to Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake for a meal before going to our hotel in Ogden.
Leaving Moab’s Desert
The day started on a high desert, two-lane road with frequent turn-outs near Arches and Canyonlands National Parks. Red cliffs surrounded us on this otherwise empty desert plateau. We saw a raven dive down and carry off what looked like a squirrel. We started keeping a weather eye open for cows on the road after seeing a sign warning drivers of “Free Range Cattle”. And when we saw a sign that Green River would be the last services for 110 miles, we pulled over there for gas.
Americana in the Book Cliffs
The landscape became scrub grass on hills, sometimes with mountains like wrinkled grey elephant legs standing in the background. Empty land stretched for miles, with a high ridge of cliffs running beside the road. In a few hours, we passed through Wellington. The 50 & 6 Diner was closed, a school bus sat “for sale” on the roadside, several shops had “for rent” signs, service stations were boarded up, and ragged houses sat close to the road like they were about to thumb rides out of town.
Later we’d pass through Helper, Utah: a railroad / mining town with modest little houses stuffed into the land between the railroad tracks and the road. The traditional main street was empty. The playground was empty. Stores were closed. Old-fashioned Christmas decorations hung from light poles on Main Street. Were they recently hung, or had they been hanging for since the 1950s? A town fading into a ghost town. Or was it? The delightfully-named Pick and Rail Supermarket was open. What must it be like to live in this small, old town? How I’d love to spend some time in these old towns, exploring the buildings, the history, and what once was.
Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake
Our plan was to do a slow, scenic drive through Salt Lake City before having a late lunch at a restaurant on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake. We drove around Temple Square and the Mormon Tabernacle, the Utah State Capitol, and stumbled upon the Family History Library where FamilySearch.org lives. I’ve done a good bit of family research, and this is another place I would love to park for a few days to explore.
The Great Salt Lake is big…75 miles by 35 miles. I’ve seen it from the air, an awesome size, at the foot of the mountains and outlined in white and green brine. The lake is similar to the Dead Sea, so salty that swimming is like floating. While fish can’t live in the lake, the surrounding wetlands support thousands of migratory and nesting birds. We wanted to stand on the shores of the lake and see it’s expanse. Antelope Island was the place to do that.
We turned left at Syracuse, and headed towards the causeway out to the island. Antelope Island State Park has dry, native grasses that support herds of bison and bighorn sheep. The island has limited facilities, and is accessible via a seven-mile causeway into the lake. We were the only car on the road to the toll booth, and learned that “everything out there is closed for the season.” Before paying the $10 toll or park entrance fee, we pulled over to consider our options. We were hungry. While we had a few snacks in the car, we were running low on water. It would be at least a two, maybe three, hour excursion–driving out there, site-seeing around the deserted and desolate island, and driving back. We decided to skip it in favor of getting to our Ogden hotel before dark.
November 9: Ogden, Utah to Nampa, Idaho. Starting mileage: 35,623.
In the morning, we drove out of Ogden, Utah past the top part of the Great Salt Lake. Today’s road would take us kitty-corner across the bottom of Idaho’s L towards Boise. It was a day of driving through land that looked uninhabited. But the roadside signs suggested times could get interesting around here:
- “Dust storm area”
- “Game Crossing”
- “Deer Migration Area”
- “Report Wildfire”
- “Frequent High Winds”
- “Blinding Blowing Snow”
- “Drowsy drivers – Pull off ahead”
Hey Idaho, where are the taters?!
Now, I’m a big fan of potatoes–perhaps their biggest cheerleader. I love potatoes any way they’re prepared and swear I could eat them day-in and day-out, morning, noon, and night. Add a little cheese and a cup of coffee, and well, that’s about all I need to survive. So I was pretty excited about having a few potato dishes when we passed through Idaho. Unbelievably, this was not to be.
We pulled over for a diner lunch after seeing a sign for the Fudge Factory Cafe in Glenn’s Ferry. My mouth was already watering, as my brain vividly imagined a homemade cheesy hash brown casserole or a twice-baked potato loaded with cheese and veggies. This was another of those quiet, ghosted little towns sitting along railroad tracks. We drove around empty streets until we found the Fudge Factory Cafe, which also looked eerily empty. Nope. We kept moving.
Just about an hour later, we pulled into the Black Bear Diner in Boise, Idaho for a late lunch. Would you believe they didn’t serve baked potatoes until after 5 p.m.? In IDAHO?! We sadly went to bed that night…potato-less…in Idaho.
November 10: Nampa, Idaho, through the northeast corner of Oregon, and on to Washington state. Starting mileage: 35,946.
We got back on the road in the morning in a dense fog, or maybe it was smog from the Ore-Ida factory near the border of Oregon. Silly me, only then did I realize where the frozen hash brown king gets the name! On this 39 degree morning, four people sat smoking on a front porch of a tumbling down house near the border, a tiny neighborhood street stuck there amidst the factory setting. Like so many places we’d see on this trip, we relished seeing the different landscapes–sometimes empty land for miles with hard rocks and ridges for textures, or soft, colorful fields cloaking the hillsides and valleys. And sprinkled throughout, these old houses and old Main Streets sit, with old ways of life slowly fading away.
Soon, we’d pass through a beautiful pass with blonde grass in Oregon, high above the valley and high above the clouds. We could have stayed up there for hours watching the wind ruffle the grass and listening to the silence.
For more about our road trip across the big USA, please see my blog. Select photos are also available for sale. Please email me or check out my Etsy site.
