Eugene, OR to Las Vegas, NV

So, after getting about four hours of sleep in a hotel in Eugene, OR, I prepared to plot out the trip to Las Vegas. I already had a room reserved for Monday night, so it was imperative that I get there by the end of the day. Due to the recent controversy with the car's GPS, I asked google maps how long it would take. Google maps said about twenty something hours. Google maps also told me I should just drive all the way down to L.A. and then hop over. Clearly this was unacceptable. I can't stand Los Angeles. I'm not getting anywhere near that fucking place if I can help it. This was not acceptable.

I then posed the same query to the in-car GPS. HALLELUJAH! Only 18 hours! I assured the GPS that all its past sins were forgiven. It was time to move on with our new life together.

During the drive, I also come to a startling conclusion: I don't give a fuck about speed limits. I'm out in the middle of nowhere, I'd see a cop miles away before they pulled me over, and I had places to go. Later, the GPS would confirm that my average speed during the trip was 90 mph.

I did have one detour to make: Crater Lake. I found it by accident, another gift from the GPS. As you can see, it's beautiful.







For those of you who don't know, Crater Lake is essentially a lake in the middle of a mountain that used to be a volcano that literally blew itself up. Elevaton: Too many.

En route to Crater Lake, I re-encountered the same phenomenon from Yellowstone: winding roads that end in a drop off of thousands of feet and no guardrail. At one point, I was driving up there and chanced a look to my right and saw a cloud underneath me.

THAT IS NOT OKAY.

Note to the Federal Parks Service: I will pay extra if you would just put up some kind of fucking guardrail between me and certain death. Seriously people, get on it.

After Crater Lake, I drove through the rest of Oregon, cut through northern California, and then south through the middle of Nevada. That was a great drive. Good desert vistas, a flat highway, and I was able to top out the throttle of the car.

At about 11:30, I arrived in Las Vegas, and prepared for some serious fun. Right after I collapsed in the hotel room.

Werewolves

Upon consulting with my GPS for my route back to Vegas, I discovered that I could possibly, with a slight detour, reach the northwestern most part of the United States. I decided it would not affect my trip by that much, and I’d already been to the southwestern and southeastern most points, so why not?

Let me tell you why not. Because, as I was soon to discover, the GPS failed to mention that part of this route would be by boat. Specifically, by ferry. Which typically would be no problem: I like boats, am not afraid of water, etc. Except for one simple fact: I had to wait for the ferry for two hours.

I know what some of you are thinking: why didn’t you just turn around and go back, idiot? Well, at that point, if I’d attempted to simply drive my way out, it would’ve taken three hours to get back on course. So, at two hours of wait, the ferry was actually the best game in town.

Of course, the GPS didn’t tell me I’d need to get on the ferry. It just, once again, tried to kill me:



After the two hour wait and the hour long ferry ride, my plan was in serious jeopardy. So, I sped along the 101, stopping in Forks, WA (the home the Stephanie Meyer vampire books). Which, let me just say, no vampires would ever choose to live in this place.





I then sped down the 101 to Astoria, OR, where they filmed the Goonies. I wanted to get some shots of the town, but it was dark by the time I got there. However, let me just tell you something about Astoria: if you are entering from the North, prepare for a bridge of amusement park ride proportions. It starts off innocent enough, just regular bridge stuff. But then it abruptly inclines so far upward that, literally, I thought the car was going to tip over backwards.

After the Astoria mission was declared a failure, I decided I had to abandon the plan to drive down the rest of the 101. Plus, I wanted to get to Crater Lake before getting to Vegas. It was not about 10:30 pm. I was supposed to be in Reno, NV by now. Undeterred and fueled by an inappropriate amount of caffeine, I asked the GPS the quickest way to the interstate.

I don’t know if it was the quickest route, but it was certainly the most terrifying. The GPS sent me on a 20 mile route that was, constantly, telling me to slow down to take hairpin turns. Signs commanded me to travel only 20 or 25 mph. Bear in mind it is pitch black outside. The windows are open, so as to keep me awake. And then I begin to have the fear.

Anyone else ever have that irrational fear when you’re driving through unfamiliar woods in the middle of nowhere? I know some of you know what I mean: you start to become convinced that there are crazy serial killers around the next corner. That after you turn the next corner, you will be confronted with a vision of sinister, robed figures, their arms outstretched, blocking your path. Or that, as you slow down to take a turn at the recommended 20 mph, an arm will reach in your window and jerk you from the car.

These are the things running through my mind as I try to speed through these woods. While I’m sure there were diabolical forces at work in the forest that night, they chose not to attack. It was probably the Coldplay album I was blasting.

After 30 minutes of jaw-clenching fear, I made it back to the interstate and then collapsed in a motel at about 1:30 a.m. I was about 500 miles away from where I was supposed to be.

Canada

When last we left our fair hero, he was traveling into British Columbia and didn't know if he'd have internet. Well it turns out that there was no internet in the cabin in which I was staying. See for yourself:





There's no television, no internet, barely a shower. The only saving grace of the cabin was that it was located next to the confluence of two rivers, and was really pretty.

While I'm on the subject, British Columbia might be the most beautiful place on earth (in the summer). Mountains, the Pacific, the trees. And everything smells like cedar. If you get the chance, I strongly recommend you take the Sea-to-Sky Highway as far north as you can during the summer.

Not that it's that easy to get into Canada. Here's an excerpt of the conversation I had with the border crossing guy

Him: What are you doing here?
Me: Going to a wedding.
Him: Where?
Me: Canada.
Him: *blank stare*
Me: Squamish, specifically.
Him: What do you do for a living?
Me: I'm an attorney.
Him: What type of law do you do?
Me: Criminal Defense.
Him: Win any big cases lately?
Me: None that you would have heard of up here.
Him: Can you prove to me you're an attorney?
Me: I could argue with you and then bill you for my time?
Him: I meant like a bar card.
Me: Oh, sure.

He then proceeded to ask how much money I had on me, and then let me go. I'm sure this sounds real fun, but remember, this guy was packing a semi-automatic rifle.

Sadly, I was not able to get a picture of him.

Once I arrived in Squamish, it was time to meet the wedding party out for karaoke. A bit of explanation: I was in Canada for Rob & Dave's wedding. They are two teachers I met while I was living in China. They are two of the most awesome people in the world, and I was glad to have been invited to their wedding. Also, Loes & Noel were there, who were also people I met in China. Loes is a Dutch woman, Noel is a Filipino, and they now live in Moscow. (Apparently I could make a killing there, or so they assured me). Rachel, another teacher from China, was also back. So, it was kind of like a big reunion party for us: we swapped gossip, updated each other on our lives and the lives of the other teachers who were there, etc. And of course, there was drinking. The entirety of the evening probably is best summed by the following picture of Loes:


The next day, we gathered at a friend of Rob and Dave's house for the wedding. It was on this really gorgeous piece of property with views of three giant waterfalls coming down from the mountains. Unfortunately, it was also raining, which forced us to have the ceremony on the deck of the house instead of out in the yard.


Here's Dave, preparing himself for go time with a drink.

Here's Rob, doing something besides getting married.


And here they are actually getting married. I wish I had a better picture, but have you ever tried to take a picture during a wedding ceremony? It's like trying to get inside the perimeter past the Boston Celtics. Women with heavy feet and sharp elbows will all but throw you to the ground rather than let you infringe an inch on their own photo positions.

Nevertheless, the ceremony was very nice and I had an awesome time at the reception. The next day, I prepared myself for my arrival back to the U.S.

Coming up next: Branden Gets Attacked By Werewolves, Hilarity DOES NOT ENSUE. Also, Crater Lake.

Here

I am in Vegas. I have driven 1,000 miles today. I checked into the hotel, won $100, and am now crashing. Will post awesome pictures of the wedding, British Columbia, and Crater Lake tomorrow.

An Open Letter to My In-Car GPS

To: My In-Car GPS
From: Me
Re: Your Recent Efforts to Murder Me

July 3, 2008

Dear GPS,

I write to draw your attention to a subject which I am convinced has recently been on your mind. That subject being my impending doom. While you might not realize it, I have pieced together the pieces of your insidious little plot and now lay them at your feet for explanation.

First, you directed me through the Tetons and then through the southern entrance to Yellowstone. This route was a clear contradiction to the route earlier provided by google maps, which included no such avenue through the Tetons or through Yellowstone, but instead directed me to skirt the park and right into my hotel. At first, I figured that the flaw lay in your software. Perhaps your route was based on the fewest number of miles traveled, instead of calculating the speed limits involved to come up with the shortest temporal, rather than geographical, route. However, the more I think about it, I detect the faintest stirrings of a more diabolical plot.

Given my course, there was only one rational way to get me to enter Yellowstone from the southern entrance: by forcing me to go through the Tetons. No other plausible route would have gotten me anyway in a fifty mile radius of that entrance. However, if I had to go through the Tetons, it would have been only natural to enter through the southern entrance. And, as you well know, the southern entrance is a terror-fraught ascent into hell; a bare three feet of gravel-strewn sand separating me from a fiery end.

And then there were your directions upon exiting Yellowstone. Your earlier actions had put me on my guard, and luckily so. For if I had followed your directions, my end would have been met not by fire but by the cold, aquatic grip of the surrounding lake. And lest you should doubt me, witness Exhibit A:


I am now convinced, by a preponderance of the evidence, that you are attempting to murder me. However, I have grown accustomed to your colorful maps, estimation of distances and arrival times. Therefore, until I am convinced beyond a reasonable doubt of your intentions, I shall keep you in place. However, consider yourself on probation. Consider google maps, your bitter nemesis, as your probation officer. Shall you deviate again, say cheerfully direct me into the face of a cliff, I am afraid that it is you, not I, who shall perish in a fiery crash.

GOVERN YOURSELF ACCORDINGLY.

Cheers,

Branden A. Bell

BAB/cah

Yellowstone, Montana, Idaho, Spokane

Woke up at 6 am to do some Yellowstone exploring. Promptly went back to bed and then re-awoke at 6:30 a.m.

The drive back into Yellowstone was not as terrifying as I remember being on the way out. Maybe I've just gotten acclimated to the crippling fear.

Drove down to Old Faithful. Here's a shot of it erupting.


I then went on a three mile hike of the surrounding basins, because I wanted to check out the chromatic geysers. Here they are. This is about 1/3 of them.





These are all essentially boiling pools of water which spring from the earth. Their color is derived from the thermophile algae which live in them. You'll notice a boardwalk on the corner of one of the pictures; this exists because you have to walk on it, lest you break through the brittle earth and be boiled alive by one of these pools. Seriously. They have illustrations of it happening to kids and onlookers screaming in anguish. Bet your ass I stayed on the boardwalk.

I drove out the western exit of Yellowstone, and stopped for lunch. I discovered that the Eastern Europeans have cornered the market on retail in West Yellowstone. It's either the mafia or a former Soviet spy relocation program. I opt for the former.

I then drove through what I can only say is the most beautiful stretch of road I've ever seen. Through Montana, the highway hugged a lake that was surrounded by mountains. Now, some of you may have heard there are no speed limits in Montana. This is partially true. Some roads have no speed limits (although there are no signs to note this, the only clue being the complete absence of speed limit signs) but others (such as the interstate) do. Still, it was a gorgeous drive. From Butte, I drove west across Montana, through two different mountain ranges (I think) through Idaho and then into Spokane, Washington.

Finished In Cold Blood, which was awesome. Obama's book is next. I will get to Squamish, B.C. tomorrow, and I am unsure of the internet situation. The next post might therefore have to wait until I get into Reno, after I drive down the 101.

Here's the route so far:



View Larger Map

Laramie to Yellowstone

The Death Machine's GPS and I are having a quasi-passive-aggressive relationship. More on that later.

Today, I drove from Laramie, Wyoming, through the Tetons, and then through Yellowstone. I can honestly say that this is the most beautiful terrain I've ever seen. I would like it more if it were not trying to kill me. More on that later.

I encountered one of the coolest towns I've ever been in: Dubuois, Wyoming. While stopping at a convenience store there, the following conversation occurred:

Man Behind The Counter: *On the telephone* Well, just lock the door and don't let the dogs out.
Me: I'd like this Cherry Coke Zero please.
Man Behind The Counter: *On the telephone* I have to go. *click* Sorry. That was my wife. There's a grizzly bear in our backyard.
Me: Uhh....
Man Behind The Counter: It's fine. Fish and Game are already over there. I don't know why everyone gets all worked up. Just don't go outside.
Me: Yeah, tell me about it.

I thought about offering to go wrestle the bear, but the proper authorities seemed to have the situation in hand. And then I was distracted by this:


That's right ladies and gentlemen. Branden Bell rides THE WORLD'S LARGEST JACKALOPE!

After this stop, I continued on through northern Wyoming and into the Tetons. There was lots of road construction, which gave me time to prove that snow is alive and well up here at a gazillion feet above sea level.

I have been as high as 9,000 feet and change above altitude. Currently, I think I'm at about 7,000 feet. Slight headache, although if that's from the altitude or from 13 hours of driving is debatable. Anyway, back to our story.

As I'm entering Teton National Park, I start to wonder. I don't remember this being on the route when I google mapped my trip. As a matter of fact, I specifically remember telling people I would NOT be able to go through Teton National Park because I didn't have time. And yet, here I was, the GPS assuring me that this was the fastest route. It turned out to be worth it, because it was beautiful.



After the Tetons, I proceeded directly into Yellowstone National Park. I knew this was DEFINITELY not part of the plan. I was supposed to hook around Yellowstone on the interstate, check into my hotel (which was just north of Yellowstone) and then go explore. I cast a suspicious look at the innocent-looking GPS and muttered under my breath. It whistled innocently.

The approach into Yellowstone can be best summed up by one phrase:

FUCKING TERRIFYING.

For those of you know me best, I have two crippling fears: snakes and heights. It was the latter that was my problem. The southern entrance into Yellowstone is one of those winding roads cut into the face of a mountain, in defiance of God's will, that has no shoulder and then falls into a thousand foot abyss. And this goes on FOR MILES.

(A brief interlude as I describe what it feels like to be afraid of heights: you feel an actual gravitation pull towards the ledge. A moment's lapse, a second of inattention, and that black hole of a void will pull you over in a second.)

I'm sure the views were spectacular. I wouldn't know. My eyes were locked on the road, my lips praying for a tunnel vision that would eliminate the yawning chasms from my periphery. I could have taken some pictures, I guess, but I was too busy 1) murmuring harsh expletives under my breath, and 2) trying to control my breathing. I alternated between the two; when one failed me, I picked up the other one.

FINALLY, got to some level, non-homicidal parts of Yellowstone, which were real pretty. Unfortunately, a lot of the roads are under construction, so there's a lot of sitting in your car as one lane of traffic goes by.

Which brings me to near-death experience #2: Buffalo. Allow me to explain. Shortly before entering Yellowstone, I purchased some Buffalo jerky. I'd never had it before, and it turned out to be delicious. Fast forward an hour and a half. I am driving through Yellowstone, and I see a lone buffalo walking towards the road. Perfect, I think to myself. I will wait here until it gets real close to the road, then creep up in the car, snap an up-close photo, and drive off. So there I waited, with all the patience of a National Geographic photographer, calmly doing the trigonometry between the great beast, the road, and the car. Finally, it was time to move. I got close, and snapped this picture.


At which the buffalo turned towards me, sniffed once, and charged.

Now, I don't know what they're teaching children about buffalo in school these days, but lesson number one should be that they are fucking FAST. Luckily, the Death Machine has some pick up, and I managed to survive getting mauled. Later, I developed a theory that the buffalo had smelt the jerky in the car, and recognizing me as a flesh-eater, decided to exact vengeance.

Which is why when I approached this massive herd of them, I crept by, trying to look inconspicuous with the windows rolled up, and hoped that the APB hadn't reached them yet.


I then passed by the mud volcanoes, which smelled awful, but I took some pictures anyway.

Did you all know that Yellowstone is actually a supervolcano? True story. It erupts every so million years and basically obliterates all life on the planet. This is the reason for Old Faithful, the hot springs, and Chinese food.

I then went to go take some pictures of a waterfall, but, again, the fear of heights got to me. Desperately clinging the railing the whole way down, I basically got this picture before scurrying back up the steps. I hope you fuckers are grateful that I put myself in peril for you.


I finally exited the park and was a scant five miles away from my hotel when, upon exiting Yellowstone, I realized, was just the same as entering it:

FUCKING TERRIFYING

Again with the shoulderless roads cut into the sides of mountains. Again, I muttered curses, tried to control my breathing, as gravity attempted to pull me again and again into oblivion. I finally made it to my hotel, where the internet sucks, so now I am at a small cafe sitting on a patio. I'm exhausted, and ready to get up early to go see some cool stuff before heading through Montana and into Spokane, WA.

Now all I need to do is find another way into Yellowstone.

Laramie

Made it into Laramie at about 8:45pm. Drove down I-70 through western Kansas while listening to In Cold Blood, which was definitely a creepy experience. Mix CD #2 crapped out on me, which was extremely disappointing. But, driving from Ft. Collins to Laramie, I took this winding highway road through the mountains which was beautiful. I didn't think it was the quickest route, but that's what the Death Machine's GPS said. I think the GPS just wanted to show me a prettier road. I feel that we have become closer, the GPS and I. Maybe it'll be like a TiVO, but for roads. It will get to know what I like and start taking me places that, while technically I didn't ask it to, I will nontheless enjoy. However, I hope it doesn't take me to Cheyenne, because I hear that place is a fucking hole.

I forgot to factor in the time zone changes into my trip, so it should make it easier going west and harder going east. The elevation here is like 7,700 feet above sea level, and I am definitely feeling it. Had a headache pretty much all night last night.

Stayed with my friend Ashleigh. Here she is after the following exchange took place:

Me: Let me get a picture of you.
Her: Should I take off my glasses?
Me: *Pause.* Yes.
Her: *Laughter*
Me: *Click*

Here is a shot of downtown Laramie. For those of you old enough to remember, this is where the Matthew Shepard tragedy occurred. It is definitely cow country.


We had dinner then went to a bar with (and I swear to God this is true) a bullet hole in the mirror behind the bar. It also had a two-headed moose, along with other taxidermical wonders hanging on the walls. I tried to get some pictures, but they didn't come out so well.

I am sitting outside a little coffeeshop in downtown Laramie now, about to head to Yellowstone. Hope everyone is well.

The Man. The Car. The Trip.

The Man.


The Car.


The Trip.


View Larger Map

Books and Books On Tape I Am Bring

Books On Tape:

Dreams from My Father, Barack Obama.

What Happened, Scott McClellan

Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis

In Cold Blood, Truman Capote

Books:

The New Paradigm for Financial Markets, George Soros

Into the Wild, John Krakauer

Rites of Peace: The Fall of Napoleon and The Congress of Vienna, Adam Zamoyski

Soundtrack to the Trip

Coldplay – Viva la Vida

James – Whiplash

Sigur Ros

Jimmy Eat World – Chase This Light

New Pornographers – Challengers

Calexico – Garden Ruin

Andrew Bird – Armchair Apocrypha

Mix CD #1

Time Goes Wild – Danny Wilde
Life Is A Highway – Tom Cochran
Man In Motion – John Parr
America – Simon & Garfunkel
Low Rider – War
Panama – Van Halen
Paradise City – Guns N’ Roses
Nothin But A Good Time - Poison
Slow Ride – Foghat
Get It On – Power Station
Runnning Down A Dream – Tom Petty
La Grange – ZZ Top
Running with the Devil – Van Halen
Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is - Jet
Long Cool Woman – The Hollies
Sweet Home Alabama – Skynyrd
Hard to Handle – Black Crowes

Mix CD #2
The Middle – Jimmy Eat World
Solsbury Hill – Peter Gabriel
Der Kommisar – After the Fire
Big Country – Big Country
For Reasons Unknown - Killers
Desire – U2
Groove Is In the Heart – Dee-Lite
Bust A Move – Young MC
Jungle Love – The Time
Humpty Dance – Digital Underground
You Spin Me Round – Dead or Alive
Addicted to Love - Robert Palmer
Big Time – Peter Gabriel
Shake It – Metro Station
Stronger - Kanye West
Little Wonders – Rob Thomas
Forever Young – Youth Group

THE TRIP

Tuesday:
Drive from Lawrence, KS to Laramie, WY – 702 mi, 10 hours

Wednesday:
Drive from Laramie, WY to Yellowstone – 430 miles, 7.5 hours

Thursday:
Drive from Yellowstone to Spokane, WA – 522 miles, 8 hours

Friday:
Drive from Spokane, WA to Squamish, B.C. – 456 miles, 7.5 hours

Saturday:
Wedding

Sunday:
Drive from Squamish, B.C. to Reno, NV – 935 miles, 16 hours

Monday:
Drive from Reno, NV to Las Vegas, NV – 448 miles, 8 hours

Tuesday:
Vegas

Wednesday:
Drive from Las Vegas, NV to Colorado Springs, CO – 815 miles, 12 hours

Thursday:
Drive from Colorado Springs, CO to Lawrence, KS – 550 miles, 8.5 hours

What I Will Attempt To Do

This is a temporary blog to chronicle my adventure from Lawrence, Kansas to British Columbia, Canada, then down to Las Vegas and the back to Lawrence. One week in a car, halfway across the country and back again. Because I can't seem to walk out my front door without something wildly ridiculous (which then seems wildly amusing to my friends) happening, this trip should be full of craziness.

Or nothing will happen and I will have created this blog for nothing.

I saw Grizzly Man. I would prefer not to be eaten by a bear.