Approaching the end of a writing, thinking, and lab-dwelling filled semester, I realized that I had not given the fact that I was about to relocate to Houston for the summer much thought. I was fortunate enough to land a gig with a large oil company for the summer that would help pay bills, give me a break from school, and an opportunity to network and fill the brain with useful geo-knowledge. On top of my already hairy schedule, I realized that my schedule was about to get even hairier with the gut-tickling epiphany that my lab results were promising, giving me motivation to apply the technique to a much broader geographic and geologic span of samples. I promptly decided that 1 to 1.5 weeks of field work was necessary prior to the beginning of my summer internship. This was not to be my typical field outing, outings that usually consist of me setting up camp and spending my days with my nose to the outcrop; but instead, it was to be a mega sampling trip navigated through the western United States.
In the following days, Holly and I successfully got ready for the Houston move, packed the kids in the car and caravaned to Houston. We spread the drive out over two days to prevent insanity and psychotic episodes. After arriving at our summer crash pad, we unloaded a few mattresses and the other bare essentials that we had packed and then we settled in, but I was not to stay settled for too long. The next day I picked up a rental vehicle, a trusty Jeep Commander, a vehicle that I am familiar with for field outings, one that I must say has gotten me out of some sticky situations. Tuesday night I loaded the Jeep with sleeping bag and pad, some books, cloths and the always necessary 10 lb sledge hammer.
My travel route is outlined below on google maps.
Road trip route
**Nota Bene
A road trip of this length in such a limited amount of time should be avoided by the elderly and people with heart or blood pressure problems or any other dangerous medical condition. Furthermore, it should never be attempted without an absurd amount of caffeine or without an iPod loaded with excellent music that spans a wide variety of genres, a number of audio books, and PodCasts that can fuel you through long days with hands posted at 10 and 2.
After filling my belly full of breakfast on Wednesday morning, I secured the ball cap, kissed the kids and jumped into the vessel that I would be traveling in for the following days. I had to be in the Black Hills of South Dakota the following evening, and folks, it is a looong drive from Houston to South Dakota.
Heading north on I-45 I settled into a groove that would take me through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska and into South Dakota. I am continually romanced and fascinated with the rural American countryside, as many of you know, and her enticing whisper began to draw me into daydreams filled with me and my family finding a forgotten plot of land, working in a family farm, keeping bees, and pursuing a life where we forget the world and the world forgets us. Day transitioned to night, and I figured that it was time to find a place to sleep. Beloit, Kansas was fast approaching and it became the destination for the evening, a forgettable destination occupied by silos and truckers, so forgettable that I am actually not 100% sure that it was Beloit that I stopped in. Not knowing the location of a camp ground and everything appearing to be private land, I decided to check into a motel. The front desk receptionist informed me that there were no available rooms, which I found peculiar, but I was powerless to do anything about it. It turns out that Beloit is a popular stop for cross-country-driving professionals. I took a moment to weigh my options and decided to sleep in the back of the Jeep in the motel’s parking lot, this being preferable to chasing down another motel or sleeping in someone’s grain field. In the morning, I emerged out of the Jeep, appeased my appetite with the motel’s continental breakfast, jumped back in the Jeep and headed down the road.
Angry clouds, steady rain and flooded rivers occupied the scenery of the day. A colleague of mine was working in the Black Hills, and we had scheduled a rendezvous where he would show me the area and point me to the stratigraphic horizon that interested me. We met up in Hot Springs, SD and then made our ways up through the back mountain roads to settle in for the night and prepare for the next days work. The night sky provided a spectacular, ear shattering thunderstorm. The stay was nice, and the company was great, but the weather was less than ideal, supplying cool working conditions the next day but heaps of mud. However, the South Dakota stop was successful and after a killer Reuben sandwich at a local restaurant I was ready to set a westward trajectory. I was about to be within the boundaries of Wyoming, a state that I often miss. The rain continued into the evening and stretched into Wyoming. Driving through the Powder River Basin and on to Buffalo, WY I was cordially greeted by green rolling hills with snow covered mountains as a back drop. I landed in Johnson County, home of Buffalo and the location of the Johnson County War, a showdown between ranchers and big cattlemen that took place in 1892. I spent the night and in the morning I collected my sought after samples with the 10 pound sledge.
Heading south, I would soon be in my previous hometown of Laramie. I saluted familiar territory as I zipped by on I-25 through Casper and then to the Wyoming back roads and isolated outposts of Medicine Bow, Rock River, Bosler, which is now essentially a ghost town, and then into my beloved town on the high plains, Laramie. After reacquainting myself with the layout, I met up with my old office mate and friend, Jason. He was kind enough to let me crash on his couch for the evening, but not until after we caught up on each others lives and solved about 98% of the world’s problems. It was a good evening of R&R.
Vernal, Utah was the next stop on the list and held key rocks in the grasp of her proximities. I set out west on I-80, a stretch of road that I have driven many times, in fact, too many times. At Rock Springs my destination turned south, over the Uintas, down into Flaming Gorge and then into Vernal. I sampled my targeted strata, hoisted the stones into the back of the Jeep and then I made my way into town. I wish I could say something exciting about Vernal itself, but in all honesty, there is not a hell of a lot that is exciting in Vernal. The landscape on its outskirts, however, demands awe, reverence and contemplation. In addition, I had a great friend that I knew was in the area doing field work, and we arranged a meeting. I met Will in his campground north of town and we had a great deal of catching up to do. Our conversation was much needed and very enjoyable. I spent the night in his 1980s canvas tent that was a monstrosity to the aesthetic eye but nostalgic to say the least. Morning would come soon, and I had a decent amount of mileage to cover.
Salt Lake City was my next pit stop and I had some rocks that I needed to pound off some cliffs near Price. After doing that, I headed straight for SLC where I would meet up with Kelsi, my little sister. It was really good to see her, and she has a sweet place just northwest of downtown. Dog parks, life quandaries, conversations about our futures, pasts and presents, and a delicious dinner filled the evening. The couch was comfortable and I was ready to barrel all the way to Tucson the next day.
Tucson is a long way from Salt Lake City, and the road was starting to quickly fray my nerves. As my nerves began to get the better of me, I was repeatedly saved by the aforementioned podcasts and music. A lot of Navajo Nation and desert traveled below my wheels, but finally I made it to Tucson, and it was good to sleep in a bed for the night. In the morning I swang by my office on campus and unloaded about 300 pounds of rock, rock that would sooner or later relinquish secrets and stories of a world far from ours.
Leaving Tucson in the afternoon, I decided to make the day a short one and crash at my little brother’s place in Las Cruces. Again I was granted a fun filled evening with stupendous discussions and a good meal. I hit the sack a bit early knowing that Cruces to Houston would test my patience the next day.
Houston bound, I steeled my mind and calmed my nerves with the knowledge that I would soon see my kids and Holly. The reunion was excellent and much awaited. It is good to spend the days with the ones you love and not be isolated in a metal box on wheels with nothing to think about but the thoughts created, recycled and rehashed by your own mind.
I wish I would have been able to meet and spend time with even more of my friends while I was on the road, but my schedule preventing me from rendezvousing with many.
