The Cracked Lands

Leaving Ouray was much less stressful than the previous drive. The roads were wide and smooth and gently downhill. A wonderful thing for me because I had not slept well at all due to dreams of falling to my death down some mountain valley.

We left Colorado and entered Utah on I-70. I learned that this part of Utah is nothing but miles and miles of…..miles and miles. I soon dubbed this “The cracked lands” because something was always cracked. Landscape, roadway, signs, all were cracked in some fashion. We quickly became cracked ourselves, passing the time by telling bad jokes and generally having a good time.

We did not stop unless necessary until Provo.

Provo might be a nice town. I would not know. We seemed to have ended up in the more industrial area with a train that made its presence known at 4 AM and sounded like it was passing just feet behind me.

We left early.