Crossed over that Utah border somewhere around 10 am, after tossing, turning and sweating all night. Fun stuff.

Didn’t even get to see the gleaming spires of Salt Lake City, as I took a big left at Ogden and heading over to Wyoming. Everything went pretty quick until I got to Wyoming. Something changed there. Hell, the first 50 miles felt like it took 500. Very weird. And little Rawlins, it’s a bit of a “halfway point” for I-80’s run across Wyoming. That took forever to get to, too. Sucked.

I finally got to Laramie, and had to drive with one eye open. I was dog-tired for whatever reason. I pulled into a Super 8 hotel to bed down and was punched in the face with, “That’ll be $189 for the night…with tax it’s $200-something…blah blah…how long will you be staying with us…”

I just smiled, nodded and walked out. I went across the street to another joint, to same festive rate. “It’s Frontier Days right now, sir.”

Frontier Days? I’ll give you a frontier to celebrate.

I just kept driving, over to Cheyenne, then on down to Broomfield to the open arms of Mike Basher. And that was it. Portland to just about Boulder in two days. 1267 miles or something.

Here’s what the majority of the day looked like.