It's pretty here, in a Southern California sort of way. Makes me a little homesick. Sagebrush and stunted wind-twisted pines cling to the edges of rock outcroppings. The ground is the color of pale caramel, and the dust gets into everything, with the scent of sage.
We pass through several tiny towns, logging towns or tourist stops. I do not mind sleeping in the car, but small trailer-park town motels scare the bejeesus out of me. Too little civilization, and too much. Says something about my prejudices, I suppose: cities or wilderness I know how to live in, but not tiny logging towns where public buildings are decorated with crucifixes.
We're decided to proclaim ourselves back in civilized lands when we find a Thai restaurant. If we do.