The drive from our tiny condo in Bryan, Texas to our brand spanking new town home in Idaho was filled with three very long and intense days of travel-from sun up to sun down. The third and final day was the absolute worst. It was the longest. drive. ever. I swear if I go to Hell I will find myself eternally driving IH-80 from one Wyoming border to the other, just back and forth all day long. Such long stretches of highway, barren, unattractive land and sparse civilization. By midday I had my fill of reddish, rocky and scrubby terrain and I was done with Wyoming.
When we hit the eastern Idaho border I was pleasantly surprised by coniferous forests resting upon small peaks and winding streams and rivers running along side the highway. I remember peering down from my heavily packed car and seeing a fly fisherman down in a stream. Even though it was mid-July there was a light dusting of snow on the highest elevations. I couldn't believe my husband moved me to such a place of great beauty.But the further west we traveled, the conifers became scrub brush, the stream disappeared into brownish terrain and the hills and small peaks flattened into a valley. I waffled.
Finally we arrived at our new home, the range bordering our town was desolate, brown and maybe a little burnt from a wildfire. It was ugly and I was crestfallen.
I imagine this was the impression a colleague of mine thought a few weeks ago during a recent visit to Idaho and upon his return he said, "I have no idea why anyone would want to visit there, much less live there." But I knew the answer and I knew from experience.
