Plans change again

Sorry, folks, no pictures today. What I saw during most of the day resembles the background of this post, so I guess that's the picture. It started about a half-hour after leaving Rock Springs: coming down the slope into a valley I saw a dirty yellowish haze that set my nose going for the scent of a fire somewhere. Instead, snowflakes started hitting Penny's windshield and soon I was following the black shape of a semi to help me stay on the road. For a scary minute or two even that was gone and I was creeping along at 45 mph with my hazards blinking, hoping not to run into anything or be rear-ended. Then in just a few seconds it cleared up.

The snow flurries came and went all day long, fortunately never again as bad as that first. The haze and low clouds were pretty much a constant presence, and the times I pulled off in hopes of a photo all ended without one. Actually, the best visuals of the day came and went on stretches of I-80 where I couldn't stop: the sign for the Continental Divide 45 minutes out of Rock Springs near mile 155, altitude 6,900 feet, and the second sign about 40 minutes later, altitude 7,000 feet; and a few scattered oil rigs pumping away in eastern Wyoming and the Nebraska panhandle. The Divide splits in Wyoming with the Great Divide Basin in between. Today also brought another landmark: 5,000 miles since I started this trip.

Sights I don't want to remember include the dozen or more signs saying: "Road closed ahead when lights are blinking. All traffic must take the next exit and return to [the last city we passed]." Fortunately the lights were not blinking but the sight was unsettling nonetheless.

I drove through downtown Laramie looking for lunch and a good Old West scene to photograph. No luck there: the streets were all covered with the ugly brown residue of a winter's snowfall and road treatment, the business district looked antique but not like in the movies - hardly a false front anywhere - and I ended up at the lunch counter of the Chuckwagon Restaurant on 3rd St. next to the Interstate - just your basic small-town eatery, nothing memorable. (The amateur reviewers at the linked site agree.)

Finally I crossed into Nebraska, reached Scottsbluff at 3 p.m., and had a lovely visit with my friend Dorothy. We talked for hours and then had dinner at her favorite local Mexican restaurant, Rosita's (the link is to yet another online amateur review site, but this one is full of detail and matches my experience reasonably well). I'm in love with the homemade, puffed, flaky corn chips that are the foundation of their signature "Panchos" (basically nachos plus beans) and many other items on the menu. If you love the flaky tostada shells that many Mexican restaurants fill with a beef or chicken salad you'll want to try Rosita's chips.

(Folks from my old workplace will want to know that Dorothy had a health scare yesterday but is cautiously optimistic that all is well. I've sent details to Kim, Karen, Tom and Abby to share with the rest of you since I don't have many of your e-mail addresses with me.)

An ice drizzle has been going on here since before nightfall. Dorothy promises that the summer here and in Wyoming is lovely, and I plan to come back.

Which brings us to the title of this post. I started this trip on a southern route to get away from snow and ice, but the last three days have brought way more of both than I want. With the bulk of the Rockes behind me I could be lucky from here on, but I don't like the odds.

So tomorrow I'm heading south to Kansas City, then home via either I-70 or I-64 depending on the weather and my whim. Winter may still have some kick left even on those routes but I'll avoid it the best I can, and try for some good photos and even visits along the way.