Metric here. As I write, we are stopped on Route 34 in Wyoming, waiting for a construction crew to blow stuff up. With dynamite. Apparently that’s what they do here.
They’re going to make the road wider, although I’m not sure why they need to. It’s only two lanes wide, but we’ve been here for half an hour and only eight cars are lined up behind us. It’s actually a peaceful experience. There are just enough clouds in the sky to make sure the sun is warm instead of hot, and there’s a light breeze blowing through the car. We’re making conversation with the flag person, and we found out that he plays drums in a Mexican band.
Another construction worker has just given a go ahead, so we’re on our way again. We only had to wait forty-five minutes, which is lucky. The flag person said he was at one blast that stopped traffic for nearly two hours.
The landscape has been consistently awesome since we passed through the badlands in South Dakota. The mountains here are mountains. They assert themselves over the rest of the landscape, and allow only a few trees and some grasses to grow over them. Rock ledges jut from the mountains in some places, almost giving the impression that they are actively pushing themselves out of the earth. The authoritative, unforgiving majesty hasn’t stopped for a few hundred miles, and it doesn’t show any signs of letting up soon.
That’s all for now. It’s time to drive past some more mountains!
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