Attacked by Bobcats, Surrounded by Cows

Brigham City, Utah ~ miles traveled: almost 3000
I've been searching forever to find a place where my wireless card would work, and I finally have a week signal. What's the deal Mormons? You can have 15 wives, but shitty wireless service? Actually might not be a bad trade off.

So you're probably asking how I got from Spokane, Washingtion to Brigham City, Utah. Let's take a ride.

Trudel was fixed with amazing speed by Autocraft in Spokane. Before I had even uploaded the most recent set of pictures, the new left rear axle was installed and ready to go. My thanks to Herb and the gang for coming in under time and on budget. From Spokane, it was just a quick jump over to Idaho, so I decided to stop for lunch in Coeur D'Alene. A Greek place provided nice relief from all the grilled cheese sandwiches I've been eating, and a quick vegetarian Gyro later I was on the road.

At this point, I realized that on my way back in through this part of the country in August, or whenever it's going to be, I'll have all the time in the world to sightsee buy tourist crap. The part of the country I won't be back in is the middle, so it would probably be a good use of my time to check out Utah and maybe some of Colorado. The place that's been suggested more than any other so far is Arches National Park, and since this will be the only time I'll be anywhere near it, I decided to high tail it to Mormon country.

I shot into Montana, severing the Northern neck of Idaho along highway 90, meeting up with 93 South in Missoula. Idaho and Western Montana are some the most spectcular scenery I've seen so far, and it's true, the sky really does seem bigger in Montana. I don't know what kind of David Blaine shit they're pulling, but it's a great illusion. Every 15 feet or so in Montana is a "Casino," which is really nothing more than a gas station/liquor store with a few slot machines, and I saw some of the most leathery, blank stare pod people I've ever seen smoking cigarrettes to the filter and mashing spin buttons. I hit the gas pretty hard through Montana (75mph speed limits, and yes, Trudel can do 75 just fine, thank you), and dropped back down into central Idaho. At this point, the sun was staring to set, so I took some pictures and pulled off the road for the night. This was the first time I'd ever slept along the highway - no campground, gas station, or Walmart to protect me. I pulled off in a nice wide pullout next to the Salmon river, popped the pop top, and set up camp.

It was dark at this point and I stayed in the car the whole time, feeling the wind of truckers passing on the road gently rock Trudel. I stepped outside to have my last smoke of the night and maybe pee in a bush, when I remembered the name of the last Sportsman's turnout I'd seen. Sportsman's turnouts are set up along the side of the road to let you know where to fish, hunt, and sometimes drop your boat into the river, and the last one I'd seen was called Bobcat Gulch. As I stood outside in the dark, my inner monologue went something like this: "Are there Bobcats around here? No, there couldn't be. But why couldn't there be? It's not like I'm at a campsite or some populated area, where they might be afraid to hunt. I'm all alone on the side of a river. One could easily come by and think I'm prey. Don't cats hunt at night? What did the guide at that big cat park in Oregon say - if you encounter a Bobcat, make yourself really big, with your back to a tree so you look bigger. Fuck, there's no trees around, I guess I could back up to the car. Is that big enough? And don't run, you'll be doing them a favor, since they like to chase their prey. Yeah, like I'd try and run anyway. White stocky Jews don't run for anything, unless someone dropped a quarter. Rimshot. What was I freaking out about? Oh yeah, Bobcats. I probably shouldn't wander down to the edge of the water to take a piss. What did I learn at camp - if I see yellow eyes in the dark, that's a predator, white eyes are prey. Or is it the other way around? Where's my knife? I think I'll get back in the car. Nothing can get me in the car. Unless they climb up on the top and rip through the canvass. Would it do that? I've seen video of bears ripping the metal tops off cars to get to food inside. Are there bears around here? It's okay, I'll be safe in the car. Close the door, turn on the alarm. Yeah, because a Bobcat might think of breaking into the car to get me, but he'll see the flashing red alarm light and think 'Whoa, this guy's got an alarm...fuck it.' It's cool, I doubt I'll - zzzzzzzzzz."

Hours later, I was up with the sun, alive and free of Bobcat marks (why do I keep capitalizing "Bobcat?" Is it because it has the name "Bob" in it?). I drove for about two hours or so when suddenly there's a pickup truck stopped in front of me. In front of the pickup truck, I see a lot of dust, and through the dust are about a hundred or so cows being hearded down the middle of the highway by people on horses. The owner of the truck is leaning on his hood, and I realize that he's with the herd, stopping traffic. I figure he'll keep me there until all cows are clear of the road, but no, he just waves me right on around him. At this point, the cows are about two hundred yards ahead of me, and they're moving pretty quickly, so I creep around the truck and start following the cows. Now, I've never followed a herd of cattle before, and there's no sign on their asses saying "Stay 100 feet behind" or something like that, so I'm not sure how close I can get without spooking them. I keep pace with the last horses bring up the rear, and now Trudel is effectively herding cows. All of the sudden the herd starts to part, like a cow moses showed up somewhere, and the road is open. I slowly start to go through the herd, and figure since I'm not getting yelled at by anyone on a horse, I must not be doing the wrong thing. Then all of the sudden, the cows on my left about 200 feet up start crossing over to the right side of the road, causing me to slow down and then stop. And now the cows that had just parted start to enclose around me, actually brushing the side of the car. When a cows ambles up next to my window with a huge string of saliva hanging from it's mouth, I decide it's time to roll up said window and just wait things out. And as an added bonus, I figure the cows skimming along the sides of the car might be doing some bug and dirt removal. After a minute pause to catch their cow breath, they all start to go right (no blinkers, mind you), into a road that I hope leads to a farm, and then they were gone. I look down and realize they weren't catching their breath; they were shitting and pissing all over the road. Massive piles of cow shit and rivers of urine are everywhere, and there's nothing I can do but drive through it, all the while apologizing profusely to Trudel. No, no cows shit or pissed directly on the car, but my wheels kicked up enough of the mixture so that there was some nice splatter.

From there I ate breakfast in a very small town (oatmeal with raisins and a biscuit) where the only other patrons were two older men in large cowboy hats who stared at me from the second I walked in until the moment I left. It was the kind of look like they thought I was going to steal their women and deal drugs to their kids. I considered going over and ask them if they knew where I could score some acid, but decided against it and hit the road.

I zoomed out of Idaho and into Utah without incident, and now here I sit about 60 miles north of tomorrow's destination, Salt Lake City. SLC will be a hotel day so I can shower, do some laundry, and watch the series finale of "West Wing" and the season finale of "Survivor." "Survivor" I'm impartial about, but I've been a diehard WW fan since day one, so it's worth the indulgence. Plus, it will give me a good chance to really check out Salt Lake City. Last time I was there was on the way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for an 11th grade ski trip (I was 15), and we stopped at Denny's where Sam and I ate "Moons over My Hammy" for the first and last time. I can't let that be my only memory of the place. It's not fair to me or Salt Lake City.

Monday I'll pick up a couple of wives (what's the limit on Polygamy jokes per post?) and head out on my way to Arches. I'll spend a couple of days bumming around there, and then it's on to Vegas, where this trip and blog will really start to pick up steam. Expect pics from Seattle and Idaho tomorrow.