Northwest Road Trip

Day 1: Icy roads

We made it to Pullman, by way of Palouse Falls, which is to say we drove across the entire state of Washington in December and lived to tell the tale. The scenery shifted dramatically as we went: first through snow-covered conifer forests as we crossed the Cascades, then into a stark, barren terrain that looked remarkably like Iceland — minus the volcanoes and the $18 sandwiches. The roads were slick, and we lost count of the cars we saw off the road or overturned, which did wonders for our alertness. Snow tires were non-negotiable today, and the tire chains in the trunk provided extra peace of mind.

Day 2: 5:30 AM alarms, 9°F winds, and zero regrets

We struggled to get out of bed at 5:30 AM, which in late December feels less like early morning and more like the middle of the night. The goal was to watch sunrise from the top of Steptoe Butte, a giant hill — or small mountain, depending on your standards — that offers a 360-degree view of the rolling Palouse landscape. At 9°F (-13°C), the cold was the kind that makes your face hurt and your camera battery die, but we had the entire place to ourselves and were giddy with excitement. Watching the sun rise over the snow-dusted farmland, painting the rolling hills in shades of gold and pink, was worth every second away from our warm bed.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the Palouse backroads, and kept asking ourselves the same question: why isn’t this a more popular destination? The patchwork of snow-covered fields, the gentle curves of the hills, the absolute quiet — it felt like our own private corner of the world.

Day 3: How to spend Christmas Eve

Today was all about testing our brand new drone. The previous one met an unfortunate end in Iceland, and DJI sent us a replacement — which, we’re happy to report, is an absolute joy to fly over the snowy Palouse hills. We also befriended a local farmer, who told us about the crops they grow (lentils, wheat, garbanzos, canola) and the hordes of tourist buses that descend on the area every summer. So that answers yesterday’s question — the Palouse is a popular destination, just not in December, when the only tourists foolish enough to be here are us.

It’s Christmas Eve, and while you’re probably enjoying a phenomenal home-cooked dinner with your family, we’re settling in for a cozy dinner for two in our hotel room, featuring the finest offerings of the local supermarket. Romantic? Absolutely. Gourmet? Let’s not push it.

Day 4: Snowed in for Christmas

A major snowstorm rolled through overnight, and we woke up to the kind of white Christmas that holiday movies advertise but that are never our reality. The authorities advised against travel, which gave us the perfect excuse to do absolutely nothing — and we seized that opportunity with enthusiasm. We spent the day reading, editing photos, and watching the snow pile up outside, feeling extremely content. Merry Christmas from Pullman, Washington — population: us and the locals.

Day 5: Icy passes, frozen rivers, and trees outnumbering people

The storm subsided, and we got back on the road — this time driving from Pullman all the way to the Glacier National Park area in Montana. The route took us over icy mountain passes, through forests so thick with snow that the branches sagged under the weight, and across semi-frozen rivers that looked like they couldn’t quite decide whether to keep flowing or call it a season. The further we drove into Montana, the fewer signs of civilization we encountered. Trees outnumber people here by a considerable margin, and we’re just fine with that.

• Accommodation: Airbnb in Columbia Falls

Day 6: The cabin fantasy realized

The entire inspiration for this trip was a mental image: a warm cabin nestled in a Montana conifer forest, surrounded by fresh snow. Today we woke up and that was exactly what we had. Sometimes travel delivers precisely what you imagined, and it’s even better than you thought it would be. We grabbed our snowshoes and spent the day exploring Glacier National Park, trudging through fluffy powder in complete silence — the kind of silence that only exists when snow has muffled every sound for miles. The views were stunning, the air was impossibly crisp, and we had the trails entirely to ourselves. Winter in Glacier isn’t the popular season, and that’s very much our gain.

Day 7: Really? 30 inches of snow?

The weather service issued a winter storm warning: up to 30 inches of snow expected, with wind chills dropping to -35°F (-37°C). So we did what the locals do — headed to the supermarket to stock up before the storm hit. The drive there was an adventure in itself: low visibility, slippery roads, and snow falling like it had a quota to meet. We returned to the cabin with a surprisingly impressive haul of fresh organic vegetables from Super 1 Foods (not the store you’d expect to find great produce, but Montana keeps surprising us). Now the car is slowly disappearing under a fresh layer of white, and we’re inside cooking the best home-made meal of the trip, feeling extremely cozy and not at all sorry for ourselves.

Day 8: Stranded (in the best possible way)

We’re snowed in. The plows didn’t make it to our road until late afternoon, which means we were officially stranded in the most perfect cabin, surrounded by the most beautiful winter wonderland, with absolutely nowhere to be. If this is being stranded, we’d like to be stranded more often. We made snow angels, had an aggressive snowball fight (no clear winner, both sides claim victory), and read voraciously — we’re each about to finish our third book of the trip and are already debating what to start next.

Day 9: Snowshoeing through silence

The snow keeps falling, and at this point we’ve stopped treating it as an inconvenience and started treating it as a feature. Today we strapped on our snowshoes and explored the forest right around our cabin. The fresh powder muffles every sound — no wind, no traffic, no anything — just the crunch of our snowshoes and the occasional soft thump of snow sliding off a branch. This kind of quiet makes you realize how noisy normal life is. We’re starting to think cabin life in Montana might be a viable long-term plan.

Day 10: Crossing Big Sky Country

We woke to sunbeams streaming through the trees, illuminating yet another fresh blanket of snow around the cabin — a final gift from the storm that had pinned us down for three days. Time to say goodbye to our Montana cabin (so painful) and hit the road south to West Yellowstone. The drive took all day, and that’s crossing Montana in the short direction. They don’t call it Big Sky Country for nothing — the landscapes just kept coming: mountains, rivers, frozen lakes, and an absurd amount of open space. We arrived in West Yellowstone on New Year’s Eve, ready to start the year with an adventure in one of our favorite national parks. Happy New Year!

• Accommodation: Airbnb in West Yellowstone

Day 11: Steaming landscapes

If all of 2018 turns out as well as today, this will be a very good year. We explored Yellowstone National Park by snow coach, and it was a revelation. We’d been to Yellowstone in summer and loved it, but winter transforms the place into something else entirely. The sun shone all day, slowly melting the frost on the tree branches while bison plowed through deep snow in search of whatever grass they could find. A lone elk waded into the frigid Madison River for a drink, looking utterly unbothered by the cold.

Around every bend, steam rose from the landscape — geysers, hot springs, vents — making Yellowstone’s volcanic nature far more visible in winter than in summer. Those geothermal features are a double-edged sword, though. For the bison, the hot springs release silica into the surrounding vegetation, which grinds down their teeth like sandpaper every time they eat. Once their teeth are gone, they starve. It’s a harsh trade-off for living in one of the most spectacular habitats on Earth. For the trumpeter swans, on the other hand, it’s a much better deal — the geothermal activity keeps the rivers from freezing over, giving these enormous birds (up to 10-foot wingspan and 25 pounds) a reliable winter home where they can feed on aquatic plants while the rest of the continent is locked in ice. Yellowstone giveth, and Yellowstone taketh away.

• Yellowstone National Park
• Yellowstone snow coaches: Backcountry Adventures

Day 12: Best. Day. Ever.

It’s no secret that motorcycling and snowy landscapes are among our favorite things in the world. Back home, we’ve attempted to combine the two by riding motorcycles on mountain roads in winter, an activity that is both technically challenging and arguably ill-advised. It turns out there’s a much better way: snowmobiles.

We rented one and spent the day exploring the impressive network of trails in this area — trails marked “no wheeled vehicles allowed,” but open to snowmobiles. The landscape was extraordinary: dense forest, frozen creeks, wide-open meadows, and eventually a mountaintop with an incredible 360-degree view of Yellowstone and the surrounding national forests. We started by dutifully following the trails, but it didn’t take long before we went off-piste, carving our own path through fresh powder and reaching places that felt untouched. Our thighs are sore from absorbing the bumps, the adrenaline is still humming, and we can’t stop smiling. We’re going to sleep extremely well tonight.

• Snowmobile rentals: Backcountry Adventures

Day 13: Snowy safari

We took another snow coach into Yellowstone today, this time exploring a different corner of the park. Scanning the landscape for wildlife from the coach feels remarkably like being on safari in Africa — just swap the savanna for snow and the lions for bison. Today’s tally: a fox, several elk, waterfowl, many bison (obviously — they’re everywhere), and perhaps Schrödinger’s wolf. We’re told wolves are out there, and we may have spotted one in the distance, but the rule seems to be: if you get close enough to confirm it’s a wolf, it disappears. We choose to believe we saw one.

The highlight of the day was the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, where frozen waterfalls plunged into a deep, colorful gorge that honestly rivals its more famous Arizona namesake — especially draped in snow and ice. It was a reminder that we often travel so far in search of adventure while overlooking the spectacular things practically in our backyard.

Day 14: Creek-side snowshoeing

After days of snow coaches and snowmobiles, today called for something slower. We strapped on our snowshoes and headed into the nearby national forest, choosing a route that followed a winding creek. We’ve been particularly struck by the waterways in this area — even in the dead of winter, creeks and rivers keep flowing, cutting dark channels through the snow and ice, with steam curling off the surface where warmer water meets frigid air.

The trail was peaceful in a way that’s hard to describe without sounding like a meditation app. Just the crunch of snowshoes, the murmur of the creek, and the occasional crack of a branch shedding its snow load. We didn’t see another soul all day. After days of near-constant adventure, this quiet walk through the woods felt like exactly what we needed — a chance to just be in this landscape instead of racing through it.

Day 15: Idaho backroads

Back on the road. We left West Yellowstone and headed into Idaho, exploring backroads that alternated between snow-packed and mud-caked, pushing our car to the absolute limits. We stopped at Shoshone Falls, which is sometimes called the “Niagara of the West” — a bold claim, but standing at the rim of the canyon in winter, with ice formations framing the falls, we weren’t inclined to argue.

We’re spending the night by the dramatic Snake River canyon near Twin Falls, somewhere in the middle of Idaho that feels like the middle of nowhere. The big news: it’s 35°F (2°C) here, which after two weeks of sub-zero temperatures feels positively tropical. We caught ourselves remarking on how warm it was. This trip has recalibrated our sense of normal.

• Accommodation: Airbnb in Hagerman

Day 16: Drone heaven

We drove across Idaho and into eastern Oregon today, and the scenery made it nearly impossible to make progress. Wheat-colored rolling hills, squiggly rivers carving through snow-covered farmland, and the kind of wide-open landscapes that demand to be photographed from above. The drone got more flying time today than on any other day of this trip — every bend in the road revealed another view that was too good to pass up. The eternal road trip dilemma: we need to cover ground, but we also need to stop every five minutes because the light just changed and now everything looks different. We’re not great at resolving this tension.

• Accommodation: Airbnb in La Grande

Day 17: Seventeen days, zero restaurants, and one fantastic trip

The last day. We pointed the car west toward Seattle, simultaneously excited to be headed home and reluctant to let this trip end. Seventeen days on the road through Washington, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, and Oregon — through snowstorms and sub-zero wind chills, over icy passes and muddy backroads, past bison and swans and possibly one wolf. We managed to eat well every single day without once setting foot in a restaurant, which feels like an accomplishment worth celebrating. And we plan to — by finally going out to dinner in Seattle tonight, like civilized people who haven’t been living out of an SUV for two and a half weeks.