Okay, Fred's brilliant idea.  We've seen the Midwest, the cornfields of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois so can bet the ones in Iowa and Nebraska are pretty similar.  Let's drive, by which he meant let's drive all night, let's drive as far as we can get before we can't keep driving anymore.  Let's see where we end up after a marathon of interstate driving.  I was game, so off we went across the width of Illinois at 65 mph, through Iowa at 70, then loving Nebraska for its posted speed limit of 75 mph.  We got as far as North Platte, NE until we couldn't trust our sleepy eyes and pulled in with the truckers for a early, early morning nap.  We weren't woken by the sounds of engines, or even the sunrise, because the cold beat them both to it.  Somewhat rested, and shivering, Fred's plan had worked.  We'd cleared the cornfields and in the 6:00 AM sunlight, we could see the Rockies off in the distance. 

Neither one of us has ever been to Denver so we decided to do an early morning driving tour of the city before heading deeper into mountain country.  We caught a glimpse of the scenery our Western travel leg was going to offer as we cruised up along Rocky Mountain National Park, then to Cheyenne, WY to score a much deserved proper night's sleep.  Oh yeah, and a shower.

Hauling ass paid off.  The next morning, we leisurely toured through Medicine Bow National Forest.  This is the stuff of novels and beer commercials.  Soaring mountains, trout-filled streams, cabins tucked into forests at impossible angles.  We took the road that is closed in the winter, up and over 12,000 feet of mountain, passing signs that warned of the possibility of snow, year-round.  You can pick a spot, any spot, pull off and begin walking.  We saw them, the trout, in cold mountain streams as water gurgled past them.  A herd of elk, munching on a meadow of grass until they heard us, from what must have been a 1/2 mile away, and took off into the woods.  Strange birds and mouse-eared deer which google has since taught us are called mule deer.  The state has a slogan "Wyoming Wildlife - Worth the Watching" and after our day, we had to agree.

Now I refrain from ranting when I can.  However, something is up with nightly lodging.  We wanted to take the scenic route, drive through what we imagined to be a series of small, cute railroad towns.  We envisioned the family-owned bed and breakfast that would gladly take in a wayward, weary traveler in their little town for a small fee.  No.  Podunk motel, after rundown motor lodge, after crusty roadside inn, we were disheartened at $70 and up price tags for accommodations that looked more suitable for livestock than humans in towns with populations less than your typical chain hotel can hold.  It had gotten late, we were tired and fed-up, so we headed to the big town of Rifle, CO (pop. 6,784) to secure a very pleasant and affordable stay at the Red River Inn, along the Colorado River, the view only slightly obscured by the McDonald's and gas station across the street!  When we could see it in the sunlight, Rifle turned out to be one of those cute, little towns we'd been looking for, so we bargained an even better second night rate and decided to relax and explore, gearing up to forge further West, cut straight through the great Rockies and lose ourselves in the mountain terrain.