Penultimate day...

Tomorrow the trek across America ends. I'm very happy that I only have one more day to stare down the long highways of this vast and varied country, though it will be strange to have this portion of the journey over. I feel like I have molded myself perfectly into the passenger seat of the car. Wherever will I fit so comfortably again? On the other hand, being able to move at will rather than at the whim of the highway department rest stops will be heavenly.

Today I also realized I was done. I didn't want to drive another mile, see another truck, drive over another mountain. It seemed endless to go from Twin Falls, Idaho to Pendleton, Oregon, though it was only 367 miles and we've driven more than that in the course of a day over this past week. Still. I guess today I had just reached my threshold. When we pulled into the hotel, I nearly wept with relief. Tomorrow we will only have a little over 200 miles until we're at my sister's. That will seem like a short trip to the market compared to our other days.

This morning we walked Ozzy along the rim of the Snake River Canyon in the early morning sunshine. Beside the trail were these beautiful, wild Bearded Iris (Irises?), growing amongst the weeds and cattails.

We walked underneath the bridge to the other side and discovered two new things. The first was this great stone statue called the Twins (for Twin Falls). The statue sits on the rim of the canyon and was very cool.

Then, amazingly we saw this:

Whoa. I don't think so. After this guy jumped, several more guys threw themselves off the bridge, but I got captivated by watching them plummet and forgot to take more photos. What a way to start the morning.

We left Twin Falls--a wonderful little town that we liked very much--and headed toward Oregon. Along the way I wanted to take a side trip to see the "Melon Rocks" that were formed from the Great Bonneville Flood (13,000 years ago) that also carved out the Snake River Canyon. These rocks were swept in the flood, rounded in the turbulence into melon-like shapes, then left scattered for many miles all over the countryside when the flood finally receded. The best ones we found were at a rest stop, but we did find some in their natural state where they have been sitting for thousands of years.

After what seemed an eternity, we finally crossed into Oregon. There are parts of eastern Oregon that are very bleak, though somehow still have an austere and timeless beauty.

Alan thought these hills looked like Scotland. We had a long discussion how neither distance (6,000 miles), nor country, changes certain types of geography. (Yes, it was raining, hence the little spots).

These are the Wallowa Mountains. Directly across the valley (behind me as I'm taking this photo) are the Blue Mountains. Unfortunately, the Blues were buried in clouds and fog. I think Alan is perhaps not destined to see many of the American mountain ranges.

I could have taken more pictures, but like I said in the beginning of this post: I lost it today. I'm tired, the journey is nearly over, and apparently so am I. Maybe it's "America Overload." Too many states, too many hotels, too many everything. I might need to spend some time in a decompression chamber.

After we checked into the hotel and walked Ozzy, I called my sister. It was great to hear her voice...it will also be so very good to be at her house instead of in a hotel. It will be great to do laundry; sit in a chair that doesn't vibrate with highway rumble under my butt; have a cup of coffee whenever I want without driving through strange little towns searching for it.

Stop doing 80mph and pull off the road for a spell.