Stayed in Tucumcari, NM last night. Headed out towards Amarillo, TX in a few minutes.

Gonna get my kicks on Route 66.

Some friends are having me for dinner.

Alferd Packer had some friends for dinner, too.

Utah, lit by the light of the moon.

I didn't notice when I crossed the Utah border. Zipping through the mountains along Route 50, I didn't notice a sign. It was sometime after passing the big herd of elk near the Humbolt National Forest and when I stopped for gas in Delta, UT.

For the past few days I've been wondering what type of photo I'd take at the UT state border. How would I memorialize the moment -- the very minute I set foot in a new state for the fiftieth time -- that I first dreamed about eight summers ago?

Eight years ago my buddy Dave and I decided to drive out to New Mexico on a whim. Six years ago my buddy Darf and I decided to see the biggest ball of twine and open accounts at the Tightwad Bank, stopping off in as many obscure places as we could. Four years ago the boss sent me up to Alaska. Two summers ago I took a drive through Death Valley, the Mojave Desert, and a ghost town in western Nevada.

That left me with four states I had never been to. Moving from Anchorage to the east coast was the perfect excuse to complete the task.

As for memorializing that grand moment... well, I'll have to think of something. I was probably fifteen or twenty miles into Utah before I realized it. No gigantic WELCOME TO UTAH sign to photograph. No general store to pick up a cheesy souvenir.

But don't worry. I stopped for the night near Salina, UT. The next day I enjoyed the most magnificent drive through scenic Utah -- first on I-70, then on US 191, and picking up Utah Route 128 in Moab.

The Robber's Roost in Green River, UT.

Near Moab, UT.

The drive along Utah Route 128 was amazing, following the Colorado River along the east side of Arches National Park.

Arches National Park, from Route 128.

So now I'm relaxing in Denver. Took a full day off from driving. Tomorrow I'll be headed down through Colorado Springs, and from there? Who knows.

I-70, near Grand Junction, CO.

So I'm a little behind on the bloggy goodness. Lack of wireless access whilst traversing the middle of nowhere.

The other day I headed out of Bliss, ID and drove around looking for something to snap photos of. That area of Idaho is peppered with waterfalls, and I managed to find Shoshone Falls.

Shoshone Falls in Idaho. Taller than Niagra Falls.

After that I headed down the two-lane blacktop towards Nevada, and launched a few postcards from Jackpot, NV.

Stacey the Cowgirl in Jackpot, NV.

Met an interesting character at the post office -- she was headed from parts unknown towards Vegas. After chatting with Stacey for a little while, I headed back down US Route 93 towards Ely -- pronounced Ellie.

Stage Stop, in Lages Station, NV.

Blew through Lages Station -- a one-building town.

McGill, NV.

Stopped for a few minutes in McGill, NV.

5 trout limit, on Highway 50 heading towards Utah.

I picked up US Route 50 in Ely, NV. Route 50 in Nevada has earned the moniker of the loneliest road in America. I only drove the eastern most 60 miles or so, but I'm a believer. The first 100 miles across the Utah state line was much of the same.

A small butterfly sitting on the hood of my car.

These are the decisions I face every day. Straight ahead towards Delta, UT? Or make the right towards the Hoover Dam?

I sat at the junction of 50 and 93 for a little while. I couldn't decide whether to keep heading east, or turn south.

I decided to press on towards Utah. Nevada was beautiful, but I had one more state I had never visited, and it was just over that mountain.

In Denver. Everything is well. Might update today; might update tomorrow.

So after a having a blast with my cousin Pat and his wife Kate last night, I headed east towards Idaho.

After a long drive through the Columbia River Gorge -- incredible scenery, with hydroelectric dams and enormous wind turbines along the way -- the road turned south towards rolling hills.

California has happy cows. Oregon has menacing cows. That, or they are just leery of strangers.

I've been doing my best to stay off the interstates this trip, but I-84 in the west is a spectacle.

Near the Idaho border.

Finally I crossed the border into Idaho. For those keeping score, that means I've been to 49 of the 50 states.

Watch your back, Utah. You're next.

I haven't decided for sure where I'm headed next -- Salt Lake City, or head south to Route 50 in Nevada. Either way I'll be in Utah within the next day or so.

A wind farm near the Nevada border.

A passed a few trucks carrying the blades for those turbines; they are G-I-N-O-R-M-O-U-S. It's got to take a stiff breeze to get them moving, and this part of the country sure seems windy enough.

This trip has been 'epic' so far.

I logged a bunch of miles today, but the traffic was flowing around 70mph in Oregon, and near 80mph in Idaho. A good nights sleep, some poking around the side roads while I figure how where to head next, and then I'll probably make my way down towards central Utah. I think. Maybe.

I dunno.

We'll see where the next day takes me.

Reader Comment of the Week: I've had the comments shut down so that I don't have to deal with spam during the trip. I have received quite a few e-mails so far. This one, from MKS, takes the cake:

please try not to die on this trip.
thank you,
the management

Heh.

UPDATE: Had dinner with my cousin Pat and his wife Kate.

Hadn't seen him in at least 20 years.

Light day of travel, light day of photography.

Gonna visit my cousin and his wife tonight. Tomorrow I'll be crossing another state off the list when I slip across the border to Idaho.

Missed a turn today and ended up passing an Air Museum. Seemed like a good place to stop and have lunch.

Old MiG-17.

This might be the last dispatch for a day or two. Not sure, as I head towards the Rockies, if I'll have access to the interwebs.

Don't fret. You'll get caught up on all the happenings in good time.

So I decided to avoid the I-5, and headed down Highway 101 towards Oregon, moving along the two-lane blacktop at the speed of slack. I am on vacation, after all. I really had no idea where I was headed, or where I'd end up tonight, or what I'd be doing along the way.

Kind of like Lewis & Clark. Except in a car. By myself. And stuff.

Like Lewis & Clark. Except different.

First I had to make it to the coast, which I did near Cosmopolis, WA.

You don't see many black and white cop cars these days.

I went off of Highway 101 to Cape Disappointment. Checked out the 100-something year old lighthouse.

Steps to the North Head lighthouse.

Back in the day, the lighthouse at Cape Disappointment wasn't visible to ships coming in from the north, so they built a second lighthouse.

Fresnel lens of the North Head lighthouse.

The two volunteers working at the lighthouse told me about some of the wrecks along the Graveyard of the Pacific, specifically of the Peter Iredale. So I decided to check it out.

The Peter Iredale rests (and rusts) on the beach in Oregon.

Pretty neat seeing a skeleton of an old ship just wasting away. More on the ship here.

I headed back down Highway 101 a bit, and pulled off for the night in Rockaway Beach. Fortunately the summer rates for the hotels don't kick in for a few more weeks, so I'm staying on the beach, in style, on the cheap.

The sunset from my motel room.

I have seriously no idea where I'm headed tomorrow. Northern California? Idaho? A short trip to Portland? I dunno. I'll figure something out.

So I'm back in the States. Olympia, Washington to be specific. The wait at customs was about 45 minutes or so, but once it was my turn I was through in under a minute. Nothing to declare; same luggage, same laptop, same camera, same air in the tires.

Crossing the 49th Parallel.

Decided to avoid the interstate as long as possible. Wandered around on Route 9 in Washington for a while. It was cloudy and foggy, so no good views of the mountains yet. A few of the geeky spots near Mt. Saint Helens are still closed for the winter, so I might skip it. I mean, I've seen volcanoes before. In fact, I'm a little sick of volcanoes right now.

I stopped for lunch in (or near) Nooksack, WA. The gal behind the counter was amazed at my cell phone. I could almost hear the banjo music playing in the background.

While heading south I stopped to snap a few photos in Acme, WA. A local fellow wondered why so many people stop to take photos of their post office.

Acme, WA.

We chatted for a moment while I made sure his big black dog wasn't going to attack me, and he asked if I had one of them GSs -- which I correctly assumed meant GPS. Which I do. In fact, it came in handy earlier in the day when I missed a road sign on a back road and managed to head a few miles out of the way. Knowing that I was a few degrees further east than the road I wanted, I just doubled back and got myself back on track.

I was going to take Route 9 all the way south of Seattle before heading over, but for some reason I saw the sign for I-5 and made the turn.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

Let's just say that rather than taking I-5 out of Olympia tomorrow morning, I'll be heading west and catching Highway 101. Give me the two-lane blacktop any day.

So a nice relaxing drive through the country, bookended by a 45-minute wait in line at the border crossing and bumper to bumper traffic through Seattle. At least I've knocked another state off the list. For those scoring at home, I'm down to Washington Oregon, Idaho, and Utah. Gimme a couple of days to wander around and I'll have been to all fifty states in under 10 years.

Pulled out of Cache Creek this morning, and headed towards the BC Route 99, which is also known as the Sea to Sky Highway.

Some barbed wire along the way.

This fellow was wandering around outside the wire.

With the number of twelve and thirteen percent grades I was up and down today, I'm looking forward to driving I-40 through Oklahoma. Sheesh. So I'm down a windshield, a headlight, and after today's ride probably a set of brakes.

Ridiculous hairpin turn on Route 99 -- one of many.

It was worth it, though. I can't begin to describe the sights along the road. I took some photos, but on a road like this you eventually have to put the camera away and start driving.

The Hangman's Tree in Lillooet, BC.

I stopped for lunch in Lillooet -- pronounced Lil-oo-et -- and wandered around for a while. Made my way up to a park overlooking the town and the Fraser River. I had a chat with Greg the retired railroad guy for a while. As we stood a few yards from the tree from which murderers received their due, our conversation turned to Clifford Olson, a notorious serial killer in British Columbia who murdered a dozen children during the early 1980s. A friend of Greg's lost his daughter to the madman. He's a cook, and he applied for a job in the prison -- he wanted to be Clifford Olson's personal chef.

We both agreed that the government would probably never let that happen. We also agreed that a hundred years ago, a man like that wouldn't be having a parole hearing every two years.

The tree where Lillooet dispensed justice is no longer standing. It was alive and well in the early 1970s, but by the late-1980s it was barely alive. The town decided to cut it down before it fell on it's own. Now it serves as a reminder of a time when the law meant justice -- sometimes harsh, sometimes misplaced -- rather than the complex legal maze we have today. I don't know if we're better off, or not. I'll leave the debate to the scholars. All I know is that three decades later, someone still wants to poison a rat kept in a cage in Quebec.

I headed further along Route 99, past Seton Lake.

Seton Lake.

A fellow by the name of Mike was enjoying the weather, strumming his guitar not far from where that photo was taken. The weather was amazing -- in the high 60s -- and Mike is enjoying a month of from work, too. He and his fiancee are headed to a resort in Mexico next week; his first trip outside of Canada.

Mike works in the tar sands. I asked how that's going, with the price of oil being so low. Getting oil from shale and/or tar sands is expensive, and is only profitable when the price of oil goes way up. His company, which he was obviously proud of, doesn't shut down when the price bottoms out. They build, increasing their capacity for when the price eventually goes back up.

For a while he was working up in northern Alberta near a Canadian bombing range. Part of his training in the oil field included how to identify unexploded ordnance. I guess if you're a guitarist, you want all your fingers. Heh.

My last stop on the way to North Vancouver was in the small town of Pemberton.

Pemberton Engine #1.

Potatoes are banned in Pemberton. I'm sure there's a reason, but I didn't ask why. All over Canada I've seen signs urging folks to help deal with invasive foreign species -- plants and animals and insects that aren't native to the area, but once introduced begin to thrive and crowd out native species. I remember the snakeheads they found in that pond in Crofton, Maryland a few years ago.

So now I'm in Vancouver. The weather is great. The ride today was phenomenal. I'm going to get some grub and call it a day.

Tomorrow... I haven't decided if I'm going to cross the 49th parallel and head south, or if I'll wander around George Vancouver's old stomping grounds. I'm sure I'll figure it out by check out time.