“Where are we?” I wondered aloud. An hour ago we had just finished skiing at A-Basin. Now, a snow covered canyon towered around us.

“Oh sweet, look at the train,” said Kirk.

“You know what the Continental Divide is, right?” Kirk asked me.

“Yeah. It separate the water… The precipitation west of the divide flows into the Pacific, and everything east runs into the Atlantic.”

“Yep, and the divide runs pretty much right through A-Basin.”

Turns out that I-70, our route west of the divide, cuts right through Glenwood Canyon. The road hugs the canyon’s northern wall, while the train tracks run along the southern wall. Sandwiched in between is the Colorado River, gurgling far below. I wish we could have stopped and shot some real (-ly good) pictures with the 7D, but it was getting dark and we had a destination to get to.

Just like the Colorado River, we too were now running west of the Great Divide.

The week leading up to our trip, Kirk and I experienced the typical feelings that most big life changes bring: excitement and apprehension. Besides leaving family and friends, having no solid job prospects and picking one of the most expensive places to live in the country, the drive itself posed potential upsets. Wicked snowstorms (possible), pricey gasoline (absolutely), and car trouble (let’s hope not). And boredom. Not the worst of experiences, but definitely not something to be excited about.

“I just want to get to Denver,” said Kirk. “After Denver, there’s way more cool stuff to see.”

On the first half of the trip – Michigan to Colorado – we drove I-80. This was the “before Denver” leg that Kirk was dreading. Michigan, Indiana and Illinois went by just fine; a beginning to any trip is exciting. Then came Iowa. Right here I anticipated frequent yawning. On the contrary, I was mildly attentive. “America’s Heartland” is much more hilly that I expected and many windmills line its interstate. Kirk loves windmills. They get him thinking about the green revolution, new inventions, the future. They make him smile. All in all, Iowa was a pleasant drive.

Then we hit Nebraska. Boredom? Check. The only redeeming quality was its number of trees. I had assumed I would see ONLY cornfields (and the token farmhouse here and there.) Not true. Nebraska has trees. Quite a few, actually.

See all the photos: