Journeys: SEND IT - July 12th - Vedauwoo, WY

We left Chicago at 8:00 a.m., which was later than expected. It took us a full hour to get out of the city traffic and start making good time on the interstate. Northern Illinois, although flat, provided an entertaining view of farming and the bread basket of America. Endless flat fields of green were much different than the hilly farms of West Virginia. I think the flatness made the driving that much easier too since it took very little effort to keep the truck pointed in the right direction. The only direction was straight ahead. No turns, no hills, and not much stopping. Chicago to Vedauwoo was over 1,000 miles and was slated to take over 16 hours of driving. I was hopeful in the beginning, but as we drove through Iowa it seemed that the hours on the clock were flying by, but we were covering no distance. At one point I thought I had calculated that we had gone only 150 miles in three hours. I could only hope that I had spaced out and done the math wrong. As we rolled into Lincoln, Nebraska I had my first feelings that we might not make it all the way to Vedauwoo. It was already 6:00 p.m. in Lincoln and we had eight and a half hours of driving left to get us to Vedauwoo. That would put us in Vedauwoo at 1:30 a.m., which was really 3:30 a.m. to my body operating on Eastern Standard Time. Standing in Lincoln pumping gas into the truck, the only consolation was that the speed limit in Nebraska was 75 mph. So, we drove. And drove. And drove. The sun went down and my mind started to slip into looney tune mode. At a stop in possible North Platte, Nebraska I made a video journal entry that was totally incoherent. Yet we drove on. In western Nebraska the rain started. Pounding thunderstorms slowed us down as visibility dropped. What visibility? It was already dark. Exactly. Just the ingredients needed to possibly pull the plug and stop short of Wyoming at a rest stop somewhere in Nebraska. Then suddenly, we were there. Buford, Wyoming. Population one, elevation 8,000 feet. 8,000 feet? No wonder I was incoherent, dizzy, and having an out of body experience. Now we were only eight miles from Vedauwoo and I knew it was in the bag. We pulled in as the rain continued. No tent tonight. Not in the middle of a Wyoming thunderstorm. We rearranged the boxes, rolled out our pads and sleeping bags, and fell soundly asleep in the bed of the truck. Was that a bear pushing against the truck trying to get food? No, just a dream...I think.

Vedauwoo the next morning.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.