Oregon Trail: Ames Edition

03.29.26

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I start my new job tomorrow. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that I can walk to our administrative offices. I plan to fully take advantage of that since the weather here has been so gorgeous so far.

First day jitters abound so I’m going to distract myself by regaling whoever’s listening with part two of our journey from Salt Lake City to Reno, Nevada.

Cue up the Johnny Cash.

(For what it’s worth, we forsook playlisting in favor of me letting LK listen to Ateez and other assorted K-pop bands. It’s not my favorite but it made her happy and since she was driving …)

If you’ve never been to Salt Lake City, there seems to be this absolute gorgeousness of the mountains and then just past the city and to the west is just miles and miles of salty flats.

There’s also this fun dude and a Sinclair gas station.

If you’ve never seen the salt flats — it’s wild. Just insanely wild. They look like snow but also like a desert, and as tempting as it can be to want to drive on them, they give mad quicksand vibes. And given that I’m a geriatric millennial, I’ve internalized enough bad 90s film to have a healthy fear of quicksand. So I resisted.

There are the Bonneville Salt Flats though and those are for driving as I understand it. High speed racing to be more exact. Record setting high speed racing and driving.

I couldn’t stop taking photos. It was too weird and amazing.

Also having the backdrop of the mountains that seemed so close and so far — just crazy beautiful.

Speaking of crazy and weird, in the midst of it all was this art installation.

It’s called the Tree of Utah and it was done by a Swedish artist, Karl Momen. It’s also sometimes referred to as the Tree of Life, and it was completed the year I was born. My understanding is that Momen crafted this to break up the otherwise stark landscape and add some color.

Not having known any of that as we were driving past, my initial reaction was “WTF”.

If I’m being honest, there’s still a little of that even after researching this salty sculpture. But also appreciation for the time and effort an endeavor like this requires. It’s definitely a conversation starter and breaks up the monotony of the flats.

Beyond the Salt Flats is what is considered the High Desert. The landscape is equal parts breathtaking and boring, but also conjures up visions of roadrunners and coyotes and tumbleweeds and Acme explosives. Also a little bit of the Kalimari Desert (shout out to my Nintendo nerds).

Legit could not stop taking pictures. At its core it’s all sand and dirt and rocks, but somehow it’s still so different from everything we’d seen to date. There were sandy hills and rocky ones and even some snow capped mountains and deadly curves.

The straight parts of the road will definitely get you into trouble. I fully understand mirages now. They are exactly like you see on tv and no joke.

The inclines and curvy bits were pretty scary too, but not quite as scary as parts of the Rockies.

There was even a tunnel!

Not quite as impressive as the tunnel in the Rockies, but still neat.

We stopped for lunch in Elko, Nevada, and enjoyed a cool little restaurant with a wild and expansive mural. Tbh it reminds me of a restaurant in my hometown that we ate at a lot when I was teenager. Menu, mural, and all.

Lunch was pretty standard but it was nice to sit down for a bit and eat something that wasn’t fast food.

The landscape alternated between desert and plains, and there were a few spots where civilization came together enough for small town or power station or ranch. We enjoyed calling out every time we saw cows or signs warning that cows could just be wandering across the road.

Yeah.

Nevada cows aren’t fucking around.

The only bit of soundtracking we did came with reaching Winnemucca. We listened to, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, some Johnny Cash. This was following by some Eagles and some Led Zeppelin and America. Which I think then just put a listening to more classic rock.

Our dinner and fuel up stop was in Fernley where we fueled up at a combination Love’s, Denny’s, Cinnabon, and Casino.

Yeah.

I know.

The prospect of using their bathroom and/or eating there was overwhelming so we headed further into town and opted for Panda Express.

After Fernley we continued west and, to my surprise and terror, hit more mountains. In the dark. Scary winding mountain roads that were sometimes wedged between a guardrail and solid rock. It was very reminiscent of the previous night’s drive and gave me zero joy. But, also similar to the previous night’s drive, there was a moment where the terrifying mountains gave way to an expanse of bright lights.

Reno. The biggest little city in the world.

We, disappointingly, didn’t get to pass under the famous arch, but it was still pretty impressive to drive through the northern portion of the city and see one brightly lit tower after another. Our hotel was on the edge of town, near the university. And, after a confusing side quest to determine if the burger place also sold lingerie (it did not. The signs were just poorly arranged on the back of the strip mall) we arrived at our hotel.

Our hotel room was awkwardly large and smelled of new carpet, but the free breakfast slayed, as always. (Hampton Inn is also unnecessarily obsessed with barn doors for bathrooms.)

This would be our last hotel sleep before we arrived in Oregon, at my new apartment.

All panic, no disco,

Ames