I rolled out of Almo at about 8:30, after sweeping out the yurt as required. It cooled off quite a bit as soon as the sun went down last night and
by midnight I was pretty cold. I decided I really didn't want to sleep outside again. Also, I didn't want to ride on gravel roads anymore,
so I added 20 miles to my day to stay on the pavement. And see the snow in the mountains.

What a lousy picture. Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. That monument talks about how a whole bunch of western pioneer
trails ran through this area.

In Malta I picked up an early lunch for the road. I still haven't eaten the pop tarts.

I raced this dust devil for a little while. I won. Later a saw a couple more, including a big one in the middle of the road that I rode through. It almost
tore my paper map out of its binder clip.

It's a 25-mile climb from Malta. For many of these miles I was repeatedly dusted by trucks carrying some kind of grain. They would blast by
bathing me in a cloud of grains and stalks. Finally I found the origin. I sure hope they are making beer or whiskey with that stuff.

I was on the same road for 50 miles. Half up and half down. There was very little traffic.

Suddenly I reached the Utah border. I'm sorry to be leaving Idaho. I doubt I can get single beers at gas stations in Utah. And I'm pretty sure the
gas stations and supermarkets won't have growler refill stations.

Shooting signs seems to be a major pastime in this part of the country. I'm happy to see that they are not using armor-piercing munitions.

Now in Utah. SSDS. Same scenery, different state.

It's my old friend, I-84. Back again. Gonna ride it tomorrow.

I was able to get a room in the only motel in Snowville. It's a self-service deal, and it's not the nicest motel I've stayed in--but far from the worst.
And it beats sleeping outside.