When I saw the sign marked “Rest Stop”, I pulled over. North-central Oregon was starting to look like west Texas, and my mind was starting to wander. The signs kept promising “Port” this and “River” that, but I hadn’t seen any water so far. Besides, that ham wouldn’t last much longer unrefrigerated, and I was hungry. I hopped onto a picnic table, made myself a sandwich with a not-quiTe stale baguette, and surveyed the rest stop. This was new territory, subtly different from Idaho and Eastern Oregon. A self-important shaved head guy with hip sunglasses stood blocking the sidewalk, talking loudly on his cell phone. “She’s just lucky she wasn’t actually using any illegal substances.” A dusty minivan pulled up and emitted 5 or 6 sobering reminders of why white folks ought not to marry first ... read more

It is dangerous and probably foolhardy to start making generalizations about an unfamiliar place in which you have spent approximately 50 hours. But here I go anyway. Idaho is beautiful, which surprises me. The mountains of the south central are beautiful, as are the semi-desert flatlands around Grandview. And Boise is beautiful, lush and green with trees and a river running through it. I drove to see the purported best view of the town, from Table Rock, northeast of the city. On this sunny 78-degree Sunday, a few other people had the same idea. We came by car, van, bike, and on foot to look down at the city from the famous viewpoint. And another thing struck me about Idaho: there is a distinct lack of the “little sign industry” around here. At Table Rock, there ... read more

When I tell people I prefer t travel alone, some people get it instantly. Others furrow their brows and worry about me, and ask, “But when you see something beautiful, don’t you want to turn to a loved one and share it?” The short answer is, “Yes, of course.” So I do turn to a loved one and make a comment. The only difference is that the people I turn to aren’t there, if you want to be strictly technical about it. I walked along the Tree Molds Trail at 8 am, during my second visit to CRMO in as many days and saw wonderful things. Big pines of some kind that grow to a certain height, then apparently topple, leaving bleached and spooky skeleton trees amidst the living ones; lava flows; the tree molds themselves. ... read more

But I'll add a few anyway. Evidently all of Nevada is being repaved. I tried to be cranky when my straight highway shot to Elko was impeded by endless road work, but I was in a comfy car munching on a Butterfinger Buzz (yes--a caffeinated candy bar!) looking at snow-covered 9000 mountain peaks around me while listening to Lil Wayner, Booker T, and Massive Attack on satellite radio. But you know what...? Life is good. ... read more

In the last decade, I’ve been to Vegas more than several times—and Reno not at all. In my mind the two were nearly equated, with Reno simply as a smaller version of Vegas. At first glance, it is. The casinos look the same, and sound the same, though even Harrah’s is much smaller than most casinos in LV. In general, the same demographic is to be found, generally older, generally white, generally middle class. But something about Reno feels…not exactly "gentler", but more human. Women aren’t hawked endlessly on little cards passed out by blank-faced little Aztecs. The wastrels in the streets, lighting cigarettes and scooping you out as you walk by feel less desperate. The air is gentle and the light is warm: the Truckee River runs through the middle of town: kayakers paddle it ... read more