We made our way northwest through the high desert all the way to downtown Boise, Idaho where we stopped for coffee and records. Downtown Boise is a pretty nice place to be. Shady too. Not shady like someone tried to sell me a watch. Shady as in it’s known for being “the city of trees.” And boy did we need that shade. One hundred degrees in the sun but quite comfortable in the shade.

After coffee we made our way to The Record Exchange where I, much to Corey’s chagrin, scored a late 1980s acoustic set by Gun ‘N Roses performed at CBGB.

In-between record stores and coffee shops we entertained ourselves by reading right wing bumper stickers. My favorite was “criminals love gun control, it makes for a safer work environment.” Others were a bit more dark. Like this one on the truck parked near our hotel:

Others signage spied along the route was a bit more confusing. This one definitely sent mixed messages.

It’s a crime to drink on the premises. But it’s only a misdemeanor, so you do you.

Something is going on with Mount Saint Helens. We are not geologists or even people who understand fancy science words. But from our limited understanding, Mount Saint Helens is recharging. And so are we. But with less lava. And more ski lifts; and believe me you have not lived until taking a ski lift with Corey.

We did a lot of laundry and had great pho at a brew pub that really had no business serving pho or anything even remotely more ethnic than grilled cheese.

Park City is a nice place. The least real feeling place we have ever been but still incredibly nice. And nice people too. Except for the homophobic rich prick who tried ripping down a pride flag. Came out of a BMW and started chanting some right wing crap about how that flag somehow negated the U.S. flag. That he looked at me for sympathy triggered me into saying a few words I probably should not have (and all this at the base of Main Street on one of the quietest street corners in all of America). He drove off in a huff then circled back about a block away. There he kept poking out of an alley like a rat, waiting for us to be picked up by the time share shuttle.

But that creep ain’t Park City. Park City is an older man with a shirt unbuttoned down to his waist walking with confidence. Park City is a kid driving a shuttle bus pitching his start-up idea to a couple of tourists from Chicago. It is a million dollar shack (500 square feet and in need of an update) perched at the top of Main Street. And lots of cool hikes, great food and nice people to spend time with. Like I said, it doesn’t feel real but it ain’t a bad place to be.

Moving day. After seven nights in the Tetons it was time to move on. On the last day our friend, a witty black bear we met on a trail, baked us a pie. A few of our favorite elk also swung by to say goodbye. All good things must come to an end.

So we drove to Park City, Utah. About 300 miles which for us means two coffee breaks. The first was in a small shanty-like structure stranded in a parking lot just a few feet off Route 89. The teenage girls working the joint were nice but seemed a bit put off by us wanting them to use our own travel mugs. I paid with a twenty and got back over eight dollars in quarters.

We also had a Cup of Joe in Evanston, WY. It was a nice place with friendly people and a large bagel/cream cheese selection (their motto is “Great coffee, bad puns and good food”). But what really impressed us was that a coffee shop can make it in a majority Mormon town (68.4 % per Wikipedia; Mormons do not drink coffee).

It’s all about Friends now. One after another while Corey and I both catch up on mindlessly scrolling on our phones. We have also done six loads of laundry with at least two more to go. The price for all this will be a two hour time share presentation tomorrow. It is going to be hard not to tell the sales person about all the fun we had back at the park.

Slow your roll. That’s what the digital sign says on the faster of the two roads linking the Colter Bay area to Jackson. And then it reads out a depressing collection of recent animal road kill.

I am happy to say that we have in fact successfully slowed our roll. It took a nasty blister to truly do so, but yesterday was a master class in doing little. And by crawling through the periphery of the park we managed to experience several previously unknown sights. We also had a delicious dinner (trout, salmon and potatoes over a fire with a good loaf of bread). But mostly it was two best friends doing what they do best which is not always the easiest thing to describe but something I wouldn’t trade for the world.

On our 26th Summer road trip a first; we experienced a snow storm in the Tetons. It began on the mountain pass between DuBois and the park with the temperature dropping another twenty degrees followed by a wispy snow that failed to accumulate. And then a little sunshine while we set up our tent before a new snow chased us into the tent (but not before we had a quick sit by the fire, our cocktails diluted by the snow).

Another first was having dinner with a former intern and her fiance at a small pizzeria in the Tetons. Rose and Connor are both pretty great (and by that I mean they laughed at most of my jokes). It is their first time in the park and through them Corey and I relived just a little bit of the excitement of being here for the first time.

Here’s to Dwight Eisenhower, the creative force behind today’s interstate. Without his push we may never have known the wonder of the Worlds Biggest Truck Stop which now, in addition to a  barber shop, dentist and movie theater has a bank of Tesla chargers. Walking into the place I overheard a young man say to his friends, “Now this is America!” And I think he might be right although I can’t decide whether or not this is a good thing.

You can drive, like Corey and I did, a thousand miles from home and not quite get to where you want to be. In contrast the entire Ring Road in Iceland, an awesome road trip well worth a couple weeks or your time, is only about 800 miles. There are not many places in all of the UK where a train won’t get you back to London in time for tea. But here, on this continent, you drive hard for two days and are happy to find yourself in Laramie, WY.

Even on the Interstate, where you can legally drive 80 MPH in Wyoming, bits of life from the landscape seep in. There was the mom prepping her son for his coming stay with Dad at the gas station in North Platte, NE. The nineteen year old waiter in Laramie who proudly stated “now that I am an adult” when asked what life is like in his home city. And at the hot tub tonight a man talked about helping his step son settle his biological father’s estate. All of this exists, still exists, while we whip around the country in our magic metal ships. What a country.

Hello-

Corey here. I know-“but it’s Noel’s blog”. I do get on here from time to time when I need to process. And let me tell you, there’s lots to process this summer. See, this is our 26th summer trip, but our first summer trip just the two of us since 2003. No Henna in the back seat. Which means no side kick to laugh with while we wait for Noel in the rest stop. No cohort to meet eyes with and instantaneously know what the other person is thinking without a word passed between us. No one to make us stop mid hike to admire an insect for just being cool, while allowing us to slow down and just see things differently and to take in the moment.

But change is natural. And so are cycles. So here we are. Full circle. Just Noel and I again. It’s almost like our first trip, way back in 1999, but with more aches. We are even going west again. So I will be a bit sad, missing my Henna while also happy she is enjoying her independence. This is what we hope for our children, that they go on to have their own magical lives.

So I will concentrate on the positive. I am lucky to have married my best friend. I am also acutely aware of how lucky we are to be able to spend so much time away and together over the summer (and still talk by the end). I will text and FT Henna as much as she’ll allow. I will relax. Reset. Reboot. I hope this for everyone this summer. I’m hoping you are healed by the sunshine, get time to hug and love your families, and get to rest and recharge. This life and world can feel a mess and out of control, but I’m hoping for peace for everyone.

Thoughtfully,

Corey

No, we are not back in Albuquerque. But if you are looking for a whole lot of succulents with your coffee I know the place to go.

Cactus is a cool but dry place (just a little cactus humor there). The southwestern decor fits nicely with their Cafe de Olla (traditional Mexican coffee with lots of cinnamon and other spices) and their Cafe de Leche. It’s a neighborhood joint too where people hang, have serious conversations and eavesdrop on said conversations. Man the gossip one hears while playing a game of gin with your wife which, by the way, I let her win.

They got jarritos, topo chico and several other Hispanic drinks not yet available at Starbucks. Empanadas too. Staff is nice and afterwards you can walk around the block a couple of times while your wife shops at the thrift store next door.

Casa Cactus is located at 4595 North Elston.

To answer my friend Marie, yes we got home safely from our trip. Marie probably knew the answer though since she did ask me in person.

What is it like to sleep onboard Amtrak? It’s not great. Per Corey the top bunk is incredibly firm even with the thin mattress. Below is not as bad, but the rocking kept me up most of the night. We both did catch a few hours of sleep though along with a quick post breakfast nap.

The bed also comes with meals served by a waitress in the dining car. You make reservations and then are often seated with another couple. For our last dinner we met a funeral home director. His business is cash only as he does not want people spending beyond their means. He also stated that his business was booming during the pandemic. That it was in fact the busiest he had ever been.

The train pulled into Union Station at 4:12. Somehow we made the 4:30 Metra back to our Edison Park home. A little after five we were feeding the cats and unpacking. It was a good ride home and an amazing week spent with my best friend. Happy late Easter and early Passover!

Back to ABQ and it was bright sunshine, mid sixties. We stayed at the El Vado which describes itself as a boutique motel. It was a one floor motel with doors facing a courtyard. Lobby was a hip bar that hosted a pop-up comedy show which we were lucky to catch the end of. A few doors down was their sister motel which boasted a hip cocktail lounge. I was there less than ten minutes before I broke a coffee mug.

El Vado and the Monterey Motel

Back on the train now. We are moving but at a walking pace and I’m not sure why. Like with every long distance train we have been on, present are several Amish families. Playing   cards I caught one such family staring at me while I shuffled. Speaking Pennsylvania Dutch (which to my ear sounds almost Gaelic) they occasionally pointed at me while laughing. Were they in awe of my shuffling skills? Or maybe my loud shuffling was just a bit too much for them. I wanted to do my best Joe Pesci impression (What, am I clown, do I amuse you?) but thought it would go over their heads.