Yesterday, John and I cruised across Wyoming, which was (in parts) spectacularly beautiful. John reported that when he and his friends, Shelly and Spencer, drove from the Bay Area to Minnesota, they crossed off all the states in between as potential places to live. Except Wyoming.

We passed the highest point on I-80 (a mere 8000-some feet) at the Lincoln Overlook and crossed the Continental Divide.

We stopped in Rock Springs so I could buy my souvenir for the trip – a righteous pair of Justin cowboy boots. John couldn’t find anything at the western store that appealed.

Then we scooted across Utah with never a meaningful break, not even blinking as we zipped through Salt Lake City.

I will say, however, that up in the mountains of western Wyoming and eastern Utah, there were some pretty trouty-looking waters and one time, John was kind enough to alert me to a beautiful winding river/stream that had a couple of fishermen on it. First time I really regretted that we didn’t have more time and I didn’t have a fly rod.

We ended up in West Wendover, Nevada last night. More about that in a bit.