So far

I feel like I have traveled so far away. I am amazed at how similar and different my destinations are from things that are familar. Both nights' camp sites were dammed-up-river lakes, just like Clinton. The mountains near Salt Lake City were the same Rockies from Estes Park or New Mexico. There were subtle differences in the foliage, but it felt the same.
The people don't have accents, or at least no noticeable accent. When I traveled to Georgia, I knew when I had crossed into The South. Not so with California, Nevada, Utah or Wyoming. 
The hills that I was in last night were similar to a trip to Branson and Table Rock Lake. Cicadas.
The differences, though, are astounding. Near the Great Salt Lake is the Salt Lake Desert. It was miles of white, salty sand and occasional mud. It is hard to describe and the picture doesn't do it justice. It was brutal.
So too, the Sierra Nevadas are the best mountains ever. I couldn't stop to take a picture because I was coasting down hill for an hour through noble pine. The smell seemed fabricated, it was so overpowering. The afternoon light cut through the canopy from the byway's path and blotched my view of the misty down slope.
Ah, I should have spent a day in those mountains.

I thought that I would feel the weight of the trip when I got to Wyoming. I didn't. The drive has been weighty, but only the exhaustion of a long trek. Today, I will visit Sierra Nevada Brewery and I hope to feel more of the coolness of this trip.
Camping and driving are cool, but I am here for beer.

Important side story. I was preparing to camp in Utah, when I saw a sign that said that I couldn't gather wood from the park. I went into town to buy some wood and the attendant at the gas station told me of a guy in town who sold wood. I went to him and he was out, "It rained all day, but there is a guy on the other side of the lake. He's just past the cemetery, look for the piles in the driveway." So, I traveled and found the house. But only half a house. It looked like half of it had been torn down including the front porch. I pulled in the driveway next to the CAT with the grabbing-claw-thingy. I would have rung the door bell, but I couldn't get to the door. I saw a little girl in the window and waved. She called for someone inside. A man stepped out and I apologized, "but I was told that I could buy some wood from you."
He said sure and began to load me up with kindling and good wood, "That will keep you warm tonight."
I was surprised how much he put in my car and I thought it was going to cost me a lot, but he refused to let me pay him.
I went away with a wave and a smile.