GNAST: Day Ten

After a nice hotel breakfast, we packed up and headed out. It was sunny! GASP.

Our first stop was Minidoka "War Relocation" Camp. This is a delightful euphemism for concentration camp. Most of it is gone, leaving only the foundations of two buildings and a replica guard tower, but care has been taken to preserve what's left, and there's some good signage remaining. The sunny desert morning was much appreciated as we peeked around. Not unlike Earthquake Lake, it was pretty somber, even surrounded by blue skies, a river, and sleepy cows.

Cumulus clouds were puffing up as we got back in the car. I don't trust you, clouds.

The Hagerman Fossil Beds were nearby, some dozen miles away, so we headed down some sketchy farm roads that way. We didn't really go into the dig sites, even with the promised Oregon Trail ruts. Some gravel roads and a one-lane bridge were required, and we were getting nervous with the rental car after Wyoming and Montana. We did see the fossils on display and the awesome interpretive site for Minidoka in the same building, collected our stamps, and had a nice, sunny picnic lunch at a park a block away. Hooray, peanut butter and jelly!

After that, and a break at the park bathrooms that featured a sticker warning us, brothers and sisters in Christ, TURN OR BURN, we headed into Boise. Idaho is really... uninspiring? Somehow, it's nothing like Wyoming at all, or at least none of it that we've seen. (I got so excited and nostalgic and desperate when I saw the Idaho side of the Tetons, even with the perma-storm over Grand Teton. Bring me baaaack.) We saw a dozen tumbleweeds, and I took some pictures of the more interesting geology, but mostly... blah? Only one semi-grand vista the whole way to Boise.

Stopping at the Harts was fantastic. I was afraid it would be awkward, especially since we both probably looked liked we'd been on the road for 10 days, but they were warm and welcoming, and in true Mormon fashion, asked if we'd eaten lunch, declared our picnic inadequate, and voila, full buffet spread on the counter as soon as Sarah and the others got back from church. We regaled them with stories. We sat on the trampoline and talked to Sarah about big universities and I glared at the brewing storm clouds. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to hide in their big beautiful house. Aaron bravely plowed ahead. They sent us with cookies and prayers.

We passed through a gap in the storms, yet again, until we were southeast of Twin Falls again and the sun was setting. We stopped at a gas station, where I found a penny and Darth Tater shirts, and contrary to the weather forecasts, lightning flickered on the horizon.

I really can't explain the sheer despondency and despair I felt that whole drive. Aaron resolutely kept going, down two-lane, winding country roads following signs to City of Rocks. That was one of the originals on the itinerary, and we had both been looking forward to rocks we could actually climb without trampling some delicate ecosystem. The further into the southern Idaho desert we got, the nastier the lightning got over the nearby mountains, the more anxious I got trying to figure out how the hell we'd camp safely in a desert lightning storm, until Shinedown's Unity was playing (of all freaking things) and I had a Moment, we both got chills, and Aaron stopped in the middle of the abandoned farmland, headlights shining on the dust and crud blowing across the road in the increasing wind, and asked if I wanted to just go straight to Utah.

YES.

So we turned around. We booked it like a bat out of hell. The wind and the lightning got worse and worse, until we were on I-84 headed south with a bunch of truckers and Aaron saw in the rearview mirror what might have been freaking ball lightning.

NOPE NOPE NOPE OUT OF HERE WE HATE YOU TOO, IDAHO.

Seriously. When we take over, Idaho is given forcibly back to Canada. Happy birthday, Canada. Have some potatoes.

As we got deeper into Utah and out of the mountains, the weather cleared up. I was leaning my head against the window, and when I looked straight up and let my eyes adjust away from the glare of the headlights, I saw stars. More stars than I had ever seen on the trip, ever. Even that one night in Colorado, I only saw a handful. Let alone full constellations, let alone a brightly streaking shooting star. The relief was almost palpable. Utah, you are safe. Utah, you don't try to kill us. Utah, I think I have a glimpse of how the pioneers felt when they finally got to you.

We found a super cheap, super cute, motel in Tremonton, where I-84 merges with I-15 straight to Salt Lake City. We ate an MRE for dinner at 11:30 PM.

Good riddance, Idaho.