DAYS 53-55 - Hell's Half-Acre and beyond - 1044 miles from home

One thousand miles. It's hard to make sense of that number. My British friend Andy puts it in perspective this way: if you left London headed toward Baghdad you'd be in Warsaw or Krakow by now. Hmm... If that were my trek, I think I'd probably take a more southerly route, and be somewhere in Slovenia. But hey, the point is: America is BIG. We've been on the road for almost two months, and we're still just in Wyoming. Indeed, the America West is beyond big. This trek is, in fact, mindboggling.

Meanwhile, to boggle our minds a bit less we've stationed ourselves in Shoshoni these past few days - no longer at our beautiful refuge with Dale and Charlotte Bascue, but at a small RV park in town. Wyoming is the least populated state in the nation: just 587,000 inhabitants - roughly the same population as Milwaukee, WI - with a density of just 6 people per square mile. Not surprisingly, our lodging options along the way have been limited. These past few days, without RV park options we would have had to boondock illegally in a rest area (although let me tell you, WYDOT keeps the few we've seen in immaculate condition) - or we would have had to break through a barricade to illegally enter the campground at Hell's Half Acre. Instead, we've plugged in happily at Crossroads RV in Shoshoni.

Speaking of Hell's Half Acre: Oh. My. Goodness. A lot of the places we've seen have not lived up to their names - Bliss, ID being a great example. But Hell's Half Acre did not disappoint. More than a half-acre to be sure (320 acres according to Wikipedia), this badland gorge of ravines and rock formations and striated cliffs feels otherworldly enough to actually have been used as the setting for the alien planet in one of my favorite sci fi movies ever: the genre-busting Starship Troopers. Kate and I just gawked. I remembered a story about my mother-in-law, Lenore Tishman, when she visited the Grand Canyon: "I prefer to use the word 'awesome' to refer to sights such as this."

Yes. Hell's Half Acre is awesome.

And then there were many more rolling miles for me as I walked from Shoshoni to Powder River and on to Natrona, WY. The fierce canyons carved by ancient rivers into deep rust gorges .... these gave way to undulating hills: canyons that are perhaps even more ancient, and thus softer than the jagged cliffs of Hell. Instead of stark ravines, here the road simply meanders alongside steep valleys filled with grass. Cattle and horses dot the distant banks. This walking feels like forever. This land feels outside of time, beyond boundary or border. My mind whirrs round in small circles, looping from one idea or word or image to the next. My trekking poles clack-clack-clack. Almost nothing stops this forward momentum, this movement that actually doesn't seem like it's going anywhere. In grammar they call this structure parataxis: the rhythm of this, and this, and this, and this....

And then, suddenly there are two motorcoaches pulled over in front of me - strangers to greet and meet: two brothers-in-law stopped to help Sandy and Dennis with their flat tire. Later a man named Joseph pulls his truck over to me, and greets me with a very kind face and gentle words. He hands me a small pamphlet ("Am I Going to Heaven?") and tells me that "Esther is a very good name!"

And then we woke this morning to blustering Wyoming winds and a day of rain. This was a driving day in any case. Hours later, as I write these words, we're in another RV park - now in Casper, WY. Here it's the laundry that's whirring away, in the camp's laundry room, instead of my mind and my trekking poles.

We reach Nebraska in about 200 miles.

Our access to Hell's Half Acre.

The canyon does not disappoint.

Hiland, WY - population 10.

Powder River, population 30. As I walked through town, I only encountered a goat - and the metal silhouette of Wyoming's classic Bucking Horse and Rider logo.

The Powder River goat.

These "No Passing" signs always remind me that things tend to 'get real' on a pilgrimage. There's no 'passing' here in the sense of hiding or dissembling. Everything is exactly what it is.

Brothers-in-law and good samaritans. They gave me a $20 donation when I shared my card - I was so touched I forgot to ask their names.

Dennis and Sandy, on their way to Yellowstone. Their flat tire is now repaired. "In the past all those cars would have stopped," Dennis says - grateful nonetheless for the brothers-in-law who did.

Rain day - En route to Casper.

Casper, WY. Aurora the Beanie Baby is very impressed by Bob's driving skills.