Adventures in cross-country motoring

This year we drove to Utah for Christmas vacation. Originally we'd thought about flying out, but the new intrusive (and frankly illegal) TSA screening procedures put us in favor of a means of transportation that a) we could afford and b) maintained our privacy and dignity. We also wanted to be able to take anything we chose along with us... yeah, driving won by a shutout. So Captain Midnight the Kung-Fu Packer loaded many, many boxes and bags and blankets and pillows and snacks and Miss V into the car, and we headed out early Saturday morning.

Our first part of the trip through Washington was relatively uneventful. Almost immediately after getting out of the greater Seattle area, we ran into snow and slush on the roads, but the Captain is skillful at driving in snow, so no biggie.

We made our usual travel stop in Oregon, pausing for hydration, restroom breaks and a fillup.

One of the many oddities of Oregon is that you're not allowed to pump your own gas. Really. There's a state law forbidding it. You MUST have an attendant pump it for you, because the state of Oregon has determined that gas fumes are too dangerous and harmful for individuals to suffer. (And so they hire some poor shlep to be exposed to them all day long? That makes sense.)

Around about Pendleton, before tackling the Blues (which often get nasty in winter), we stopped for lunch at a greasy spoon joint called Rooster's. I insisted on going here rather than getting fast food, so what happened next was really my own fault.

They were serving breakfast, which we all thought was a good idea at the time. I chose to order what would later be known as The Chicken Fried Mistake. It was OK going down, but then it hit the floor of my stomach and rolled itself up into a solid mass. There it lay, chuckling evilly for most of the rest of the trip.

What can I say, I'm an idiot for chicken-fried steak.

Anyway, things went well enough on the road until we got to Baker City...

...where we were diverted off the highway into Baker for about two hours while the highway patrol worked to clear an accident off the road. (We later learned that two 18-wheelers had collided, which should have warned us about the state of that section of highway.)

Eventually the roads were declared clear enough to pass, and we continued on our route. We passed one of the wrecked semis, rolled and twisted into an unnatural shape off the side of the road. I was too shocked to take a photo. If the thing had been a horse, someone would have shot it and put it out of its misery.

As it grew darker, the road became more slippery and treacherous. Eventually we hit a spot where we couldn't move; cars, trucks and 18-wheelers alike were pulled over to either side of the road, and most of the truckers were putting chains on the wheels of their rigs. So, not being able to move, Captain Midnight got out and did the same. (He also chained up the tires of the people behind us, who were carrying chains in their trunk but had no idea how to put them on.)

After about an hour and a quarter of sitting dead still in the car, waiting for traffic to move, the highway patrol finally started waving cars through, one at a time. We played "slalom between the semis" for a mile or two, then crept along at about 15 mph until we reached a point where the ice on the road turned back into snow and slush. CM removed the chains and we continued to Ontario, Oregon, on the border with Idaho and home of the Ore-Ida plant. (Ontario almost always smells either like fried potatoes or cooking onions, or both. Miss V decided she wouldn't want to live there.) We crossed the Snake River into Idaho, where I tried taking a picture of the state line but failed because I couldn't figure out how to turn off the flash. Durn flash!

We had planned on staying with a dear friend and her family for the evening, figuring we'd get there in enough time to goof around, chat, help make dinner and handily beat them in a few rounds of Mah Jongg, but what with our holdup in Baker and then the nastiness on the road, we arrived hours late. There was just barely enough time to inhale Scarehaircare's delicious cooking, take a shower and fall into bed.

The next morning we got up and goofed around a bit. Miss V discovered the evil that is Nerf weaponry and used it to terrorize the household. Captain Midnight discovered DoggieGirl and her fondness for playing fetch (and occasionally tug-o-war). And we all discovered gingerbread waffles with butter syrup. MMmmmm. As much as we would have liked to stay and discover more, we had to press on. So we got back on the freeway and drove through the more monotonous parts of Idaho (not shown here).

Southern Idaho and Northern Utah look very similar. And after it's snowed heavily, they both look a lot like this:

It's difficult to tell where the earth ends and the sky begins.

Fortunately, after our previous day of stop-and-go travel, CM made record time and we got to my mom's place just as she was serving Sunday dinner. This is just one of many ways in which Captain Midnight has proven his general awesomeness.

Now it's late, and I'm hitting bed.