We’re on the Oregon Trail. We are not the first ones, of course. In the 1860’s, up to 2000 people a day trekked across here. Just think about it. 2000 people on wagons, horseback and on foot. In one day! It must have been a constant stream, an unbroken line. All heading to a place they knew little or nothing about. What amazes me most, (I’ll have to do some research), is why many of them didn’t just stop. “Let’s stay here. This place looks all right. What in the hell are we going to Oregon for? It’s another four months of dusty, mucky and dangerous bumping across empty plains and scary mountains. And to what!” Well to Oregon, I suppose. But to them, it was just an address on a piece of paper. And not too exact. Oregon! Just that. Adventurous people. And brave.

Driving across Nebraska is a bit like being at sea. Not as wet, of course. What I mean is, you can look around you for as far as the eye can see. There’s not a mountain or hill to be seen. Great oceans of yellow, dried cornfields stretching on and on. It has a beauty of it’s own but there is an unchanging sameness about it. We take a break to call in to the Pony Express depot. One of the few, (probably the only), Pony Express stops remaining. It’s a small (very) log cabin museum and shop now. The service hasn’t operated since 1861, when the telegraph but it out of business.

On to Denver. We arrive a little after dark. The mile high city. There is no sense of it being that high as you approach by road. It must be a gradual incline, spread over a thousand miles. I had expected steep mountainous roads, but no. Anyway, we’re here for a few days, so we rest from driving and go to see the sights. Looking forward to it. Denver Colorado. Show us what you’ve got.