South Dakota - Wyoming - Montana - Idado - Washington (PHOTOS)

 The Badlands

All day and all night we are wading through invisible waves. 

Radio waves. 

This has always amazed me, how we live in a world full of sound and pictures that we cannot hear and we cannot see until they are translated by our radios and televisions.

I was driving through the mountains the other day, somewhere near the eastern edge of Idaho’s chimney.  I’d been driving for about an hour, which, at this point, feels like a quick trip to the grocery store.  I’d spent the first 30 minutes singing along throatily to The Lumineers CD, gesturing with my hands like a symphony conductor, rewinding to sing the best parts again and again (as you can do when driving alone), but that excitement had faded into passive listening.  Then I forgot there was music on at all. 

I hit the “FM radio” button and, after a half-second, static crackled.  I hit “scan” as I bent around a sharp dogleg, directly into the setting sun.  I squinted and fumbled in the glove box for my sunglasses, left hand still on the wheel, so that, on the whole, I looked like I was giving the road a big awkward open-armed hug.

About twenty miles later a warbly male voice suddenly burst from the speakers.  It jarred me; I snapped back and held my breath.

The radio had been cycling through the frequencies all that time I was passing between the mountains.            

SOME PHOTOS WITH BRIEF COMMENTS:

I'd like to begin here, with this ultra-zoomed in view of The Badlands.  The first time I visited, three years ago, the texture of the rocks was damp and clay-like.  This time it was baked dry and chalky, almost reptilian.


And here now I'd like to share some beautiful shots I was able to gather at Mount Rushmore, otherwise known as The World's Longest and Most Boring Staring Contest: 

Boy, it sure was beautiful.

And yes, if you're wondering, the ledge that this two-year old is cutely posing on is about the width of a cinder block.  On the other side is a 100ft. drop to rocks below.   

And here is my favorite shot:

Moving along....

I have gone through 2 rolls of duct tape so far.  I use it to (a) create a wind guard on the right side of the hood (raised from a previous fender-bender) and to (b) keep the headlights in place, which keep popping out like a cartoon character's eyeballs.   

The car has become a metaphor.  See?
 

Here is one of my favorite new friends, James, in Billings, Montana.  I'll need some more time to explain this whole day/experience.  But you can see the broken violin he rebuilt.

Red Lodge, Montana at 7am.

Glimpses of central Montana. 

Here is an old photo of Butte, Montana, followed by a current one from (I think) the same vantage point.  You can see the massive quarry at the end of the road. 

 After a six hour drive across Montana, I arrived in Missoula on a Saturday night. 

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From Missoula it was on through Idado to Spokane.  You'll notice that many of these photos are from the car, where I spend much of my time.  I knew I was getting closer to the Pacific when the pines appeared.  

And then, after four more hours of nothingness in central Washington, I came into Seattle:

Sadly, there were no poems inside!

But I left a postcard.