Leaving Yosemite for an all-night drive to Las Vegas was long, exhausting, and very depressing. We arrived at the Imperial Palace Hotel at 6:30am looking dirty and very sleepy and were greeted by people still stumbling about with glasses of beer and wine, shoving coins into slot machines, and yelling at us to “Look happy! You’re in Las Vegas!” For those of you wondering why the Big Green Bus went to Las Vegas, a haven of wastefulness and overconsumption, there were three main reasons. The first two were practical: we were given nearly a full tank of waste vegetable oil from The Flamingo casino and we also met with the Dartmouth Alumni Club. The third reason has more to do with the irony of having a symbol so counter to the culture of Vegas driving down the Strip as a kind of public statement. I do not think we were on the Strip enough or had enough publicity to really make an impactful statement. I was open-minded enough to walk up and down the Strip, looking into the different hotels and casinos. I found them all to be the same, just with different décor. I also found all the obnoxious machine sounds, flashing lights, and posters of topless women strewn about the sidewalk overwhelming, annoying, and offensive. Las Vegas embodies exactly what I find the most frustrating and detestable about our society, which is the eager willingness to consciously externalize the consequences of our actions. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” is false and perpetuates the notion that having a good time involves some of the most wasteful and destructive forms of self-indulgence. I hope that that remains my first and only visit to Las Vegas.

Due to some necessary repairs on the Bus and chase car, we unfortunately had to skip our visit to Zion National Park. We instead had to stay another miserable morning and afternoon in Las Vegas and had another all-night drive to Moab, Utah. Waking up to the sun rising over the red rock desert that characterizes the canyonlands and arches of the Moab area was like Dante’s journey from Hell to Paradise. We parked in Swanny City Park for the Saturday Farmers’ Market at 8:30am and were treated to the friendly and welcoming people of Moab as well as some delicious, local food. There was a goat farmer that had eight different kinds of goat cheese. My two favorites were the rosemary-olive and honey-apricot. It is certainly the season for peaches for almost every stand was overflowing with them. There was also some sweet corn, greens, peppers, and some local baked goods.

Back in 2003, Moab began purchasing 50% of the power for its City Office building from wind. Mayor Dave Sakrison wanted to do more and In April 2006, Moab became the region’s first Blue Sky Community by purchasing over 5% of the city’s electricity needs from wind energy. Moab and nearby Castle Valley became the nation’s first EPA Green Power Community in 2004. Today, more than 14% of residents and businesses purchase pollution-free wind power, which prevents 5.5 million pounds of carbon dioxide emissions each year. Mayor Sakrison came to visit the Bus and was just as excited to have us in Moab as we were to be there.

That afternoon we had the opportunity to visit Arches National Park. We hiked to both Delicate Arch and Windows and took some beautiful pictures of the Bus driving through the red rock desert. That evening we stayed in Castle Valley and I fulfilled my dream of sleeping outside in the desert. The air was still and cool and the only sounds were the soft buzzes and clicks of insects. I awoke to a chorus of coyotes and a deep orange sunrise behind Castle Rock.

We met up with Grayson and his family on the Colorado River that morning for a day of rafting and kayaking. It was rainy for most of the morning and got a little cold, but I had so much fun kayaking, paddling the raft, and swimming with the current downstream. The rapids were fairly tame and the water a very comfortable temperature; not to mention some of the best scenery in the country.

After a scary, winding drive through thunderstorms and heavy rain, we arrived in Telluride, Colorado at the home of one of our younger Bussers, Grayson Zulauf. Telluride is a paradise of another kind. We were above 8,000 ft. in elevation and surrounded by mountains covered in aspen trees, fallen boulders, waterfalls, and fields of wildflowers. On our first morning we parked on a main street in town and gave informational tours to the public. One of the groups that visited the Bus was a local organization called The New Community Coalition (TNCC). I had a wonderful conversation with some of their members on their work to promote clean, renewable energy; local, sustainable food; recycling; and energy efficiency, among many other green initiatives. The mission statement on their website should be inspirational for any municipality:

That afternoon I walked to the edge of town, uphill for two miles, and came to a waterfall. I was living a dream that only got better the next day. Grayson, Matt, Anna and I hiked the Sneffels Peak trail (approximately 14 miles) that took us from evergreen forest to an open basin filled with wildflowers, including Columbines, the Colorado state flower. After several miles of switchbacks we made it to the ridge line above 12,000 ft. and were greeted by an adorable mouse with a bouquet of yellow flowers in its mouth. We hiked along the edge of the mountain through the basin on the other side of the ridge line for several more miles before descending through a huge grove of aspens. The sunlight glinted off their quivering leaves and made them look like glittering green jewels on posts of beautiful, white bark. Aspens are now my new favorite tree. We ran the last half mile into town and barely beat the afternoon rain. It was  one of the most spectacular hikes I have ever done.

The next morning we very reluctantly made our descent from the Colorado mountains into the plains and farmland of the Midwest. We were finally driving into the region where I was born and raised and I was very excited to be coming home. There is a humble beauty to the Midwest that may be difficult to appreciate if you haven’t lived or visited for an extended period of time. The mountains of Colorado, the desert of Utah, the redwoods of California—all have a dramatic and almost overwhelming beauty that can sweep you off your feet. They are like seeing the love of your life for the first time—you fall head over heels in an instant. The Midwest is different. The Midwest is like your best friend; the person that is always there for you no matter what but that you sometimes forget to appreciate because they are constant, reliable, and usually unassuming. To generalize very broadly, both the environment and people of the Midwest are friendly and have a quiet pride for their land. We don’t have a need to brag or show off but will welcome anyone willing to sit back and enjoy the subtle yet profound beauty of the Mississippi River, the birch and evergreen forests, the fields of corn and soybeans, and the thousands of lakes and creeks that dot and wind their way across the landscape. My home is a part of me. In the Dartmouth alma mater we sing:

In their muscles on their brains.   

I would say that no matter how far I roam, I will always have the Midwest in my heart, the prairie winds in my veins, and the lakes of Minnesota in my muscles and my brains. It was good to be home.