Salt Lake City To Cheyenne
As soon as we leave Salt Lake City, we emerge from the hills into a lush and verdant valley. After an hour, we pull over into a viewing area to take in the beautiful vista, overlooking a calm lake nestled between hills.
We cruise through hills carpeted in pine trees and wispy green shrubbery. Dotted through the hills are dark little houses painted in red, blue, and green. We wonder aloud what it would be like to live in one of them, surrounded and isolated by nature.
Craggy red-brown rocks jut up from the earth and flank the I-80 as we drive along it.
Our next stop is Little America, a trussed up and kitschy rest stop in Wyoming. It's bright and clean, and scattered across the grounds is an array of disparate statues. We gas up, freshen up, and snap some fun photos.
We ascend further and further, to the highest elevation we'll see on our trip. The clouds hang low and full in the sky, giving the illusion that we're just a few reaches away from the heavens.
In the foreground lie grassy green plains, and on the horizon, a crest of white mountains. Coulton and I gaze around, rotate through a battery of folk albums, and munch on Cheerios.
We arrive in Cheyenne at 3 in the afternoon, unload our luggage, and head into town for lunch. The downtown area is sleepy and quiet. The buildings are short and have an eclectic architecture with red-brown stone masonry that calls to the Wild West. We shuffle around the train depot, some old historic buildings, and the civic center before heading back to the hotel to rest.
After seeing all there is to see in Cheyenne after about an hour and a half, we watch the Truman show in the hotel room, go for a swim in the super chlorinated pool, and go to sleep.
The drive to Cheyenne was one of the most beautiful ones we've seen yet. Wyoming is the least populated state in the union, and we certainly felt its emptiness as we walked through the streets of its quiet capital city. Next stop, Omaha, Nebraska.