Motel

Following our yurt trip, we hitchhiked back to Jackson from Idaho and got a ride from a lovely, elderly couple with a nice pickup. I didn’t know the address of the motel we were staying at so I asked at the front desk of a resort in the area. The clerk told me how to get there with a sly grin on her face. I later looked back at that moment and realized what the grin was saying: “That motel is a real dump.” We finally arrived at the motel cold and hungry. The front door was locked and we were greeted by a note that read “We’re currently out doing errands. Please call these two numbers and leave a message. I called them both and heard the phone ring behind the locked door. Both voice mailboxes were full. We had enough sense to find a place to store our gear and headed to El Abuelito.

This is our room on Day 3 of our 7 day stay at the Cottages at Snow King. It would get more and more filthy at an exponential rate. We turned down housekeeping on the second day and this was interpreted to mean we did not want housekeeping ever. 

 Mysteriously, the sign (that barely worked) read Snow King Motel even though they called themselves the Cottages at Snow King.

This is the well-rounded Brian who was mentioned earlier. On top of being the front desk clerk, concierge, housekeeper, and electrician, he is also in charge of snow removal. Props to Jack for taking this picture under the pretense of documenting how much snow we were getting.