After saying my goodbyes, I drove onto the ferry back to Seattle. The still is hiding in the Penske truck on the right there, which I narrowly avoided crashing into one of the upper decks. Hey, first time driving a truck onto a ferry, what can I say?!
So long Bainbridge Island - we miss you already.
By the time we reached Seattle, darkness and rush hour had settled in. I drove down to the airport to pick up my brother and doppelgänger Ryan. And we took off over Snoqualmie pass for our parents' house in Spokane. This part of the journey, which I've made about a million times, was relatively uneventful, though the roads were a little wet, and the tires a bit dodgy.
Spokane had a little fresh snow, but it was nice and cold so not too slippery.
Then Ryan and I took off into the frozen east - through Idaho, over Lookout pass, and down into Montana.
Montana is a lovely state, but very wide. It starts out beautiful and dramatic, and slowly by slowly flattens out into a plains state.
It also, slowly by slowly, got colder and colder.
We drove until 1am, crashed for 4 hours at the Motel 6 in Miles City, Montana, and then drove on into North Dakota. By this time it was really quite cold. By the far side of North Dakota, it was -20F, and we were afraid to get out of the truck.
List of things that happened in North Dakota:
- We passed this weird evocation of Scotland
- We saw a sundog in Fargo
and the world's largest buffalo:
And that's about the long and short of it. Ryan was an amazing driving and conversation partner. There's no one I'd rather do such a thing with. Here's an unedited taste of the magic:
The still is now safely ensconced in our future space (still not telling). The truck is back to Penske. Ryan's back in San Francisco. And on we go!