Idaho and Montana

12 hours of driving is a lot. That's how far it is from Vancouver to Kalispell, MT, not far from Glacier National Park. That includes four stops to gas up and pee and one to just pee. I can get into a sort of zen state while driving; the music is good, the caffeine has kicked in, the worries of the world just drop away. But 12 hours is still a lot.

Fortunately, o glory of glories, I found the Holy Grail of Road Tripping yesterday: many miles of twisty mountain road, with a 70-mph speed limit, and most importantly, no one else on the road. No one. Hallelujah. Once I turned off I-90 in Montana and started heading north, all the traffic magically disappeared. I'd always heard Montana was underpopulated, but damn. I think I passed three farm trucks in an hour ("passed" being the operative word--apparently they were not concerned with maintaining the 70-mph limit, because I blew past them like they were standing still. Good times). Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Idaho and Montana are gorgeous; coming east from Seattle, the land briefly turns to brown, arid hills (potato farming country) that sort of resemble Texas, but then the Rockies start, and the road climbs, and the trees turn to tall mountain pine. The drive through Montana was such a cliche: steep mountains, deep valleys, burbling streams, covered bridges, railroad trestles over aforementioned deep valleys and burbling streams...I'm starting to see why people live in Montana.

Not sayin' I want to live here. Just sayin' I want to keep driving through it, fast.