This lovely wind-and-rain carved stone overlooks the little city of Green River, Wyoming.
We stayed in this town the last time we came through here three years ago. We arrived at night and left in the wee hours before dawn, so I had been unable to appreciate the beauty of the land there.
Good thing there was beauty there (we stopped for breakfast) because the night in Evanston was a nightmare of broken sleep. The air conditioner of the Days Inn sounded like a jet engine being fired up in the room, the beds were uncomfortable, and the walls so paper thin that I knew exactly when the occupants of the next room started and finished coitus.
Howie was distressed from the long drive, and put his back up against mine. My goal for the night was "any sleep at all" and "do not disturb Bernie" -- he was so tired. At one point during the night, Howie put all four of his feet up against the base of my spine and pushed gently. It was a strangely comforting feeling, and I think that's when I finally fell asleep.
Again, the day's trek was broken by accursed road repairs. I know the infrastructure of the roads of the US is crumbling, and needs desperately to be fixed, but what a pain in the ass to fall father and farther behind in our travel. Good thing we had set our goal as North Platte, Nebraska, because to have gone farther would have kilt us.