Iowa

Iowa was cool, in that, they had tumbleweeds. And tumbleweeds are pretty cool.

When I rested for the night, it was cold, and I had neighbors. I don't like neighbors. It led to terrible dreams. But I did hear a coyote pack at night, and that is always awesome. (unless you own cattle).

Flat, flat roads ahead of me, and, oh what's this? A tree farm!



Weird.

The great expanse of this tree farm had me stunned...


That's it for Iowa. Except for this sign, which really, really upset me:


On closer inspection...


Which is only really upsetting when water rations are running low - or freezing - both of which I'd been experiencing over the last few days.

Hell, at least Wyoming was in view, and (don't tell the Parks Department), I stole a tumbleweed. It may come in handy one day...

The Search for Mount Hood

Heading East is a weird thought. And I questioned every moment of it.

But trying to attack Interstate 90 in the throes of winter was a task I didn't think I was ready to take on. As great a blog entry as it would've been, being one of the stranded motorists on a sheet of ice and snow did not win my heart.

So I set my sights on Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to meet up with a friend; see what lured him out of Vermont, and kept him out for so long.

As promised, I tiptoed across the border of Washington and Oregon for a day, before getting back on the highway toward Iowa. But then, as the signs for Portland repeated, I remembered that I wanted to see Mount Hood in all its glory before I left the area. I tried every state campground in that area, but all were closed! I kept driving, into the rainy night, until I finally came across a deserted campground with low-costs and a shower-house. I sat down with a six-pack of Henry Weinhards Blue Boar, cranked up my music and relaxed. When the need arose, I found out that the shower-house (bathroom included) was locked up tight. Meh, at this point, I was fine with it.

I even had myself a buzzed photo-shoot. Spirits were high!



Little did I know that I'd wake up in the damned desert.

The road out of the Campground...

Traveling along, the highway is following Hood River.

Wait, Hood River... Mount Hood? What ever happened to...

Well, an hour up the highway I see something tall and beautiful in my rear-view mirror. Looking up at the desert and canyons that surrounded me, I decided to put my GPS to good use, and took the highest road I could find.


And there, driving on the edge of sun-scorched croplands, at the top of a very sleepy desert town, I got a great view of her majesty:




And then, I wasn't so upset at waking in the desert. Even Hood River didn't look so bad.