Houston, TX to Thermopolis, WY

It's been one of those odd travelling days where it feels like we haven't really done anything even though we have flown and driven nearly 1500 miles. The illusion is strengthened by not having reached our final destination: on our way to Yellowstone - still 200 hundred miles up the road - we have fetched up for the night in Thermopolis, WY, (pop 3009) and named for its hot springs which we will sample tomorrow. Even if they are rubbish I won't complain because just driving here has made the whole trip worthwhile.

I don't know how I imagined Wyoming to look, but it is astonishing so far. We flew to Denver and took a car, heading north on the 25 through the neat Colorado landscape; only the gauzy outlines of jagged mountains far away to the west threatened the orderliness. Then we hit the state line, skimmed Cheyenne and the land changed.

Grass in all directions, seemingly forever. A dark wild shade of green, rising and falling, the black road cutting through the swell. Impossible not to think of the sea when faced with this expanse, an open ocean of isolated houses floating like boats, and schools of cows. The sky misted and a spray of rain fell. Far off a great black storm loomed and loomed, filling a quarter of the sky - but even so, above the vast landscape it looked small, adrift. Soon enough we had skirted it and were ploughing on.

It's an empty place. We saw some wind turbines, faint in the distance, and some pylons. Occasionally the railway would sidle up along side the road, the orange engines a splash of colour. We experienced genuine excitement when tumbleweed rolled into our path and cracked under the car like lightning. The towns, and there were one or two, were merely loose collections of buildings, barely cohesive. Casper had an industrial flavour to it. Shoshoni seemed half given over to scrub and sand that lay between the lots, and the houses looked washed out, as if blanched by sea-salt. Hiland, literally just a few buildings, had a sign up declaring its population: 10.

Once we left Shoshoni the evening sun managed to break out from below the clouds and the road wound unexpectedly up along the bottom of a narrow canyon, Wind River. The many-coloured rocks of the cliffs were as beautiful as spring flowers.

And then suddenly we were here in Thermopolis, which so far is quite charming. The Elk Antler Inn is comfortable and festooned with antlers, quilts and carvings of bears. The highlight tonight though came when we buckled to some tired boys and grabbed a McDonalds: the staff were effervescent and I almost had to high-five one when she started insisting that her colleague go home and watch Doctor Who. Here! At what feels like the end of the world, even if it isn't quite the end of the road.

By the way, I feel like I should draw your attention here for an alternative take on our journey so far.