Our Own Private Utah and Idaho
Utah should be dubbed as the 'Color State'. No sooner than crossing the state line and colors of the Colorado Plateau and Green River Basin become visible. Sweeping mountains with ribbons of pastel shades in the cliffs of the valleys in which the Interstate winds through are eye candy. And, as in other mountain states, railroad tracts usually run side-by-side with the roads, making use of the more accessible gaps.
We stopped for lunch in Morgan, Utah, miles east of Ogden. Friend Lyle from near Provo rode his motorcycle north to share lunch and a visit. It was an excellent break and reunion.
We stopped for lunch in Morgan, Utah, miles east of Ogden. Friend Lyle from near Provo rode his motorcycle north to share lunch and a visit. It was an excellent break and reunion.
Idaho
A land of many faces and places, most of them all on the landscape. The Interstate winds through mostly sweeping high prairies of mixed sage and tall grass. I was hoping to see and hear the thunder of bison herds, but they have been long displaced by grain field and their more domesticated cousins, cattle.
We followed and many times skirted isolated thunder storms in the west. Searing lightening bolts on the horizon and to the south of us elicited oooh's and wow's. Rain squalls were small and even more isolated. I suspected that a few grass fires would probably start without the rain. Further west I was not surprised to see thin columns of dark smoke arising from behind a hill. As we drove closer, my suspicions were confirmed of a lightning strike fire. A few miles west I spotted two BLM fire responders heading there. A common occurrence in the western lands.
Closer to the Oregon border we met some relief: rain.
We followed and many times skirted isolated thunder storms in the west. Searing lightening bolts on the horizon and to the south of us elicited oooh's and wow's. Rain squalls were small and even more isolated. I suspected that a few grass fires would probably start without the rain. Further west I was not surprised to see thin columns of dark smoke arising from behind a hill. As we drove closer, my suspicions were confirmed of a lightning strike fire. A few miles west I spotted two BLM fire responders heading there. A common occurrence in the western lands.
Closer to the Oregon border we met some relief: rain.
