Jacob here. We've made it through no man's land, the 110 mile void. I would say that it was scenic, but that's not the right word. A nice park is scenic. Lake Michigan is scenic. This was ridiculous. I-70 winds its way through mountains, but unlike the snowy evergreen sort of things around Denver these are stark, red and tan eroded rock formations that are so imposing you just can't help but notice them. We stopped at a "viewing area" at one point and looked out over what had to be 10 or 15 miles of plateaus, carved out by a long-since dried ocean that once occupied that spot. (I wonder, did the people who wrote the signs telling us that have to have a big political fight to be able to say that the earth is at least millions of years old? This is Utah.)
By the way, we've pretty much ditched the AAA triptik in favor of the Magellan's directions. It's just much easier to have a computer tell you what to do at every turn, and figure out how to get back on track when you do something that's not in the plan. At this point we're completely relying on it, and it is coming through for us. Magellan, Mike and I want you to know that you're our girlfriend now. Sorry, other girlfriends, Magellan knows the shortest time route to my heart, and also the route that uses the fewest toll roads.
4 comments:
Guess I won't be learning any math, then.
OH, and this applies to a few posts back, but a dessert is not signified by vegetation, rather a certain low amount of rainfall denotes a dessert. (verifying my thoughts I check the wiki, and it quoth - "Deserts are defined as areas that receive an average annual precipitation of less than 250 mm (10 in).")
...and I always thought post-meal chronology and a certain amount of sugary sweetness denoted a dessert.
zing!
God knows me and the double consonants have never gotten along well. It's only minor spelling, people. It's not like I'm writing in CELL TEXT speak.
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