Jenmenke

Road Warrior

Road Warriors

Road Warriors 2010 Day Six

Day 6

8/3/2010


Didn’t get outta Dry Gulch until about 10:30 or 11 am. I hoofed it up to the hill to the flush (!) toilets to straighten my bangs (yes, I confess: I snuck the hair straightener along in my duffle bag) from the after-affects of sleeping with a pillow over my head with wet hair from last night.

Once on the road, we were shocked to realize we were only 2 kilometers from Radium Hot Springs and hence only 25 – 30 minutes from Marble Canyon Campground that we planned to stay at in Kootenay National Park [Editor’s note: in case you are confused, we consider the trio of parks to all be Banff: Kootenay, Yoho and Banff].

Oh well.

After a brief stop at the Radium Hot Springs Visitor Centre — where it must be noted that Canadians may, in fact, be fatter on average than Americans — we were finally in the park!! Kootenay, not Banff, but it’s all the same to us.

Dave was “willing to bet his life” that he and I stayed in Kootenay at Marble Canyon in …1987?  –when we came out here and camped while we were dating. I say it was Yoho. We got to Marble Canyon and it is confirmed: he is wrong. I can’t say for sure that I am right (but let’s assume I am for simplicity’s sake), but we know we didn’t stay here, as neither of us remembers it at all. What I do remember for sure was that we almost broke up on that trip. –Which made for a long and mostly silent 23 hour drive home. Let’s hope we fare better this year…

We drove around every single loop of the campground, beginning with A and ending with J. Ten loops. We even drove through a couple of them two and three times to narrow down the choice. We settled on D6. We love it. Which is good because we will be spending a record three nights here! The only downside is the sound of the main road, which we suspect will be a factor in every campground in Kootenay.

We set up and I aired the stinky camper out (it smelled like feet) and hung the bags and towels and other various damp items out to dry. We had sammies for the first time the whole trip (liverwurst for me! I know! That’s so gross!), then packed up to go (finally!) on a hike to Stanley Glacier. [Editor’s Note: exclamation points = excitement]

The route gains 1200 feet over 2.6 miles one way. At end of the designated trail, we parted ways with Dave and Charlie going up toward the glacier and Morgan and I climbing up to the base of the falls. The reluctant hiker wasn’t too happy on the way up, but perked up at the site of her favorite camping animal, the pica!

The trail was amazingly diverse because it starts off right off the road and takes you through the most recent burn area from 2006 when fire consumed 12% of the entire park. We were camping in Wyoming with the kids that year and remember the devastating fires out this direction.

Then, it goes over a very pretty and amazingly clear stream…

Then comes out into forests undamaged by the fire, what they call the “hanging valley,” though, for the life of me, I have no idea what that means… By the way, ignore Morgan in these photos, she tries to ruin every picture with her “hiking face” trying to communicate through images what we refuse to acknowledge in her words. Namely, that she “hates to hike.”

And came out here, where you can see the glacier peaking out over the top of the the cliff with that amazing waterfall underneath

Then, we parted ways, me trying to jolly Morgan out of her hiking funk by separating her from her overly enthusiastic brother, and Dave satisfying Charlie’s insatiable need to keep going and going and going…

No one can ever say that I’m not a fun mom.

I’m a fun mom.

We probably added another 500 feet and mile to the hike, so…

I FINALLY feel like earned my dinner! Pork chop foil packets with garden potatoes and peppers, onions and kohlrabi from Michelle’s garden (thanks michelle! you should try it grilled!) A hit!

And Morgan was fired up to grill her onions directly over the fire:

We added water to our solar shower, but I’m not very optimistic since we really aren’t in the blazing sun anymore. We might have to hit the Banff Hot Springs for a shower. Oddly, Dave has not been pushing the “I-heated-up-some-water-for-you-to-shower-Jennie” thing and I have to wonder if he has finally given up on me.

Lots of marshmallows were consumed this night. I credit the fact that there were no mosquitos to chase us inside. A rail from the fixed grate over the fire pit had come off and Charlie spent the evening “forging iron” eventually bending it to use a fire poiker.

We even stayed outside until it got dark outside.

Road Warriors 2010 Day 5

Day Five

8/2/2010

No Signature Toast this morning. Charlie slept later than everyone. Another FIRST for 2010. Dave made bacon. Not bacon and eggs. Just bacon. I had granola and this new brand of greek yogurt I got at Cub Foods. It was so disgusting looking that I could barely eat it. It looked exactly like gloppy tofu. And I LIKE tofu! Pretty sour too…

Oh, who really CARES about my stupid yogurt?!

Our campsite was pretty humorous, since we were almost sitting on the road in our chairs, due to the fire pit placement. We felt like that sad-but-happy couple from the Montana campsite mentioned earlier in the trip. The place was packed, too, though we overlooked the indignity since we liked all the dogs.

Interesting (and freakish) is that speed boats can go on this river. And they do: roaring up and down on a fairly regular basis. It’s so weird! You look at the river, with all the swirls in the the current and the shoreline and you just don’t think it can be possible because it looks so shallow!

We were on the road at 10 am. We headed back in to Thompson Falls to pick up a prescription for Charlie’s new affliction: swimmer’s ear. (Not a first, btw). I was so thankful that we were staying in a place close enough to a town with a pharmacy AND that I actually had a cell signal to call Curt Whisler and Catalyst Clinic in Watertown. Thanks guys!

While I milled around the drug store waiting for the ear drops (what in HEAVEN’S NAME takes so long at pharmacies?), I managed to spend another $30 on: magazines, lip balm, and three different products for Morgan’s toxic feet. (I think I just answered my own question.)

Dave drove north on Hwy 200 about 30 minutes before we blew another car tire.

Simply inexplicable.

And, we had forgotten to buy more of the magical Fix-A-Flat. (Not inexplicable.)

We did a 180 and headed back to the town of Clark Fork to a Chevron Station where they said they could work us in in about an hour. We ambled off to do errands (like buy more Fix-A-Flat). We went to a feed store and met a cross-eyed cat (I swear it is true) and went across the street to dine at Mom’s Cafe.

The cafe garnered mixed reviews from the tough crowd. I thought it was fine, but Dave didn’t like his “baby burger,” declaring it, “cooked to annihilation and barely edible.” Such an elitist. Maybe he should stop ordering kid’s meals.

The car was ready just as we arrived, so the timing was perfect. And the cost? $10.

We’ll take it.

How is that even possible, $10?

In the car again at 3:30 and Dave is saying we won’t make Banff by nightfall. I say he’s wrong. It’s Canada or bust.

We drove by Lake Pend Oreille in Idaho and it was AH-MAZING. Insanely beautiful. We had no idea. And it’s a REAL LAKE and not a reservoir! It’s over 1000 feet deep. Truly beautiful. Now we are thinking the lakeside campgrounds in Coeur d’Alene Idaho might not have been as lame as we thought, if it is anything like this lake.

I bet you would assume I would post a picture or two here, right?

Nope. It’s CANADA OR BUST, remember?

**** R E C A L C U L A T I N G ****

One hour delay at the Canadian border customs station…

**** R E C A L C U L A T I N G ****

Yah, so it was a total delay of about 3 hours when you added the tire and customs together, so it’s true. We didn’t make it to Banff.

It was a seriously sad car full O’Menkes. [editors note: do I even need to say anything about “car full O’Menke’s? I don’t think I was even drinking.] Honestly, we are better Road Warriors than this journal portrays. Four days from Wyoming to Banff?

Unacceptable.

Making matters more precarious was the fact that our trusty Rand McNally Road Atlas seemed to give up its accuracy after crossing the border. Either that, or these Canadian’s are messing with us by moving major landmarks around. We missed the two campgrounds we planned to stay at about an hour south of Banff. Of course, I am too cheap to have the data roaming turned on for my iPhone so I can’t consult my maps there, and everyone knows how bad Blackberries suck(Dave’s phone). We did have a GPS with maps of Canada along that we had given to Dave for Father’s Day, but Dave absolutely loathes it. And since I was driving, I couldn’t consult it myself. –Oh believe me, I tried, but I have to concur that the GPS is a frustrating little device when you are used to the touch screen on an iphone.

After some (very) terse words. (I mean, for LORD’S sake, just turn the damn thing on and look at it! Maybe we’ll be able to find the fricken’ CAMPGROUND). I finally fumbled around with it myself enough to seriously freak him out and make him look at it and lo and behold it took us right to the last provincial park on the map before Radium Hot Springs and the entrance to Kootenai.

The only problem was that the last provincial park on the map did not have any camping. It was a picnic grounds.

Excited eruptions from the back seat immediately followed (I forgot they were even back there) along the lines of “Yea! We get to stay in a hotel!” You’d think they’d know us better than that by now.

The plan now was to cross our fingers and bomb it for Banff and take the first site we could get. However, along the way, crazily enough and like a mirage, Dry Gulch Provincial Park Campground appeared unexpectedly out of nowhere about 5 miles later and we snagged one of the last sites. It wasn’t pretty, but we weren’t complaining.

We set up and had the most anticipated meal of the trip for everyone except for me: Spaghetti.

I made the “seasoned toast” and pretty much ruined it. I added way too much Lawry’s. It’s true.

I’m damned near perfect, but I’m honest, too. And I screwed up. Which makes me realize I didn’t document my worst camping screw up in years: I forgot to stow the pop-up crank handle when we left the last campsite. I left it attached to the outside of the camper as we drove away. Luckily it was discovered in Thompson Falls while I was in the pharmacy spending Dave’s hard-earned money.

OH THE SHAME! The potential DISASTER! I hang my head. What more can I do but confess it here.

…and move on, pretending it never happened at all.

So the spaghetti was fabie. I still brought too much, though. My notes said to bring exactly “4 cups of sauce.” But as usual, it just didn’t seem like enough! The kids are bigger! Hell, I’m bigger! And how much did we eat?

Four cups.

We had to throw the other cup and a half away. It pained Dave greatly. But there are to be no leftovers while camping. It was a lot harder for me to throw the extra green curry from last night.

Mosquitos were a significant factor again, which we just don’t understand, never having run into it before.

Tucked in and lights out by dark. Lightning in the distance.

…that brewed into a full blown thunderstorm an hour later. It poured! I had to crawl over Dave to zipper-shut the screens on the kid’s side. He did give me a loving pat on the butt as I straddled the gap. And I wonder what would happen if I hadn’t gotten up. Would the kids wake up and shut them? Would Dave? I just don’t think so. I crawled back over him and back into my sleeping bag, stewing about the rain and how it complicates the packing of the camper in the morning and then…

I REMEMBERED ALL THE SHOES OUTSIDE THE DOOR!

I grabbed a flashlight and crawled back over Dave to try to fish them into the camper without actually having to go outside in the downpour and getting all wet. I rescued the shoes, but I also had a pretty wet head.

And then I crawled back over Dave and into bed and stewed some more, trying to just enjoy the rain. Eventually it stopped and I slept like the dead knowing the shoes were dry and that we were close to our destination.

Road Warriors 2010 Day Four

Dear Bennett,

While you ridicule my blogging efforts all 11 other months, you are — as you said, yourself — “seriously for some reason fascinated by and want to hear more” and are impatient for the next post, saying, “and the fact that I have been reading for 4 days now and you are not yet to august is pissing me off!” I must take issue with your impatience for a few reasons:

  1. I have a life other than this blog and don’t have time to write more than 3 or 4 times a week.
  2. And, if I may remind you, for every other post I have written you have said something like “What is the point?” or “Who wants to read about Meatless Mondays?” and “Why are you doing this?” etc., etc.
  3. In my opinion, the desire to read about our Road Trip, makes you even a bigger loser than me for even writing about it in the first place.

Thanks for your patience, everyone other than Bennett. But I’m sure you understand the need to skewer my brother publicly at every chance possible. We may be nearing our 50’s, but I never fail to delight in the sibling bickering with my brother that I despise so much when witnessed in my own kids.


Day 4

8/1/2010

Charlie’s Signature Toast for breakfast (have I really emphasized how good this is? Please, don’t buy one of those “camping toasters”, borrow my son and his marshmallow fork instead) and a quick camp pack-up, made much more difficult by all the dew. It got down to 42 degrees last night and that makes for lots O’dew, after all. [editor’s note: I cringe at writing “lot’s O’dew”, but that’s what it says in this-here journal and integrity prevents me from edits.]

We were on the road by 9 am though, and that’s pretty good. The kids seem more predisposed to actually helping put-up and take-down camp this year — a big change from just being in charge of the chairs. I remind you, these “kids” are 13 and 15, not 3 and 5, like you might imagine at reading that, prior to this year, they were only in charge of the chairs. I’m thinking that if I play my cards right, I might be sipping a cold beer shortly after pulling into a site by the end of this trip! [editor’s note: Not.]

We drove out of Beaverhead Deerlodge National Forest and through the Pioneer Mountains. Really, really badly damaged from the Mountain Pine Beetle. Very sad.

We drove east to I-90 and hopped on the highway headed north, stopping in Missoula for lunch at the kids’ now favorite hamburger joint, Five Guys. (Dave and I quickly decided not to tell them there is a Five Guys in Edina, or they will be nagging us relentlessly to go there every time we are within a 20-mile radius of the cities).

We got back on the road with me (Jennie) driving — which reminds me — we finally determined, after much pain and suffering, that the Virgin Mobile MiFi does NOT roam on the Sprint data network, contrary to the information given to me by that boneheaded BestBuy saleswoman. ARRrrrggh. Very simply: NO coverage west of Minnesota, AT ALL (until SPOKANE). Extremely disappointing, but then again, also kind of nice to have a really good reason for not answering all those pesky emails. I guess I’ll have to decide if I will keep it when we get home.

Anyway, it was still up in the air as to where we were headed: Coeur d’Alene or stay on the Montana side in the national forests to camp. Coeur d’Alene was inviting, but campground descriptions pulled up on my iphone sounded pretty lame to Dave who was doing all the research riding shotgun (and cussing and fumbling and freaking out about “where did it go?! I didn’t touch any buttons! I swear! I hate this phone!” and so on — and on and on…). I had pulled up website listings while in Missoula, where I had a strong 3G signal, and pasted them into Notes and emailed them to myself for Dave to study on the road where I knew I would not have a strong 3G signal — which he did for about 3 straight hours.

At the very last minute (and when I say that, I mean, slam your brakes on, cut off the guy in the right hand lane, and shoot across the solid white line), he had me exit Hwy 90 in Henderson to take a road marked on the big road atlas that would bring us north in a fairly straight line to Thompson Falls, Montana where the camping sounded better. We’d be lying if we didn’t admit that when it comes right down to it, we have a prejudice against Idaho campers and campgrounds from previous experiences — that being the general belief they come in pre-formed packs of 20, each with their own ATV, pack of cigarettes and case of beer. Oh, and one loud boom box per set of campers.

The plan was all well and good, except for the fact that the road on the map did not reflect the actual road on the ground. Again, no exaggeration here, which I really do need to say, given my natural flair for the conversational dramatic. This was the most fun road I have ever had the pleasure of driving on. It reminded me of the rollercoaster called ‘The Mouse’ where there were little stomach-loosing dips and the nose of your car would go off the edge of the rails before you made your turn. The road was: twisty, turny, dippy, and very pretty. Up one side and down the other of a mountain. The fastest I went was 25 MPH and that felt like we were flying. I can’t say that we weren’t nervous, driving over long stretches of large, sharp chunks of rock that passes as gravel though, not particularly wanting to blow another car tire…

I also can’t say that it was fun for the passengers. Perhaps more telling than my description of the road is the fact that I managed to make both kids sick in the backseat — a FIRST for the Menkes! No puking, but much spit production and groaning and Advil consumption.

And NO FLATS!

A true success, all the way around.

We emerged out of the dark forest (much greener and healthier than those at the start of the day, by the way) right into the town of Thompson Falls, Montana. We stopped for gas at a station with a disturbing mural on its bathroom doors where the heads of these people are painted on the glass, so that when you are inside the bathroom, their faces are staring at you:

and twist ice cream cones (a shocking indulgence Ok’d by the Granola) and proceeded to stay at the first campground we came to — another shocking event. Not just for the decisiveness of it, but for the fact that it was a State Park which is not usually our cup of tea. This park had one strong and undeniable attraction for us on this particular day: the large and inviting Clark Fork river.

No, not because it was hot and we wanted to swim, but because it was day 4 with no shower. Well, I did wash my armpits in the sink of a gas station early the day before, but that doesn’t count.

We set up and headed to the river. Spoiled from our warm pool at home, the river was colder than we wanted it to be, but warmer than we expected it to be. Well worth it for a clean head of hair that doesn’t ache from my ponytail anymore.

We enjoyed the first vodka tonics of the trip and ate — always my favorite — Thai Green Coconut Curry with chicken and all kinds of good stuff I brought with from the garden.

Dave caught a small mouth baby bass after dinner

and I — thank the Lord — finally had a reason to visit the outhouse.

As the sun set and darkness approached, we observed and made up stories for all our neighbors (always close quarters in state parks) that trolled in and set up late in the day, making us feel like we had been transplanted into a sort of campground suburbia. There were several dogs that made Morgan and Charlie happy. And there was a family that included four small boys under the age of 8, that made me happy not to be the mom in that camp…

Another night early enough to not require the lantern put us in the camper around 10pm — a new 2010 record!

Road Warriors 2010 Day 3

Day 3

7/31/2010

Eggs and leftover brats for breakfast. Mmmm! (And Charlie’s signature toast, of course, kicked up a notch this year when made with my homemade steel-cut oatmeal bread which I simply must post online soon. It’s sooo easy.)

We didn’t see Morgan emerge from the camper until about 9 (or 10? Who knows! We still don’t know the time.), when she finished her book.

We broke camp and headed into the Heart of the Beast (Jackson Hole), stopping at the Gross Ventre (pronounced grow•VANT) Slide area. The slide was where a whole top section of a mountain broke off in 1925 and created a natural dam 200 feet high and 120 feet wide resulting in a big mountain lake, it demolished ranches; it was huge. Then the damn gave way two years later in 1927 and demolished the town of Kelly a few miles away with a 50 foot high wall of water, killing several people. That’s your history lesson for the day. It was one of the largest — if not the largest — movements of earth in the last 100 years.

Shortly after driving away, I’m not sure if we actually said the words out loud at this moment, or if I am only remembering it that way, but I’m pretty sure we both mumbled, “Can you believe we have to go back into Jackson Hole to fix the Suburban tire,” when fate dealt us another blow. Just off the gravel road among plenty of traffic, we blew a camper tire.

I know it’s not that big a deal — I even timed Dave while we changed it — but really? ANOTHER TIRE IN JACKSON? Didn’t I just say how good Dave is getting at changing tires? (It took 18 minutes, by the way.)

Morgan could barely contain her glee! Her favorite shopping town!

The only problem with her plans for retailing was the 1.5 mile walk to town from Big O Tires (who, in Heaven’s name came up with that name? Big O?) She might have even given up if not for my falsetto voice and fake enthusiasm, which I conjure up for her benefit as often as possible. If I can’t be that perfect mom who actually acts that way, can’t I at least mimic her to torture my 15 year old daughter?

On the walk, we bought gloves (for changing more tires), bug spray (duh), Chapstick (only not really that brand), and… Bear Spray!

I’m conflicted by the bear spray purchase for several reasons. I was traumatized by a Bear-Bell-Insistent-Mother who feared a grizzly attack more than just about anything. Oddly, she let us skate on thin river ice, play outside during thunderstorms and photograph many “action shots” while dangling off cliffs. In my estimation, we were much more likely to die in one of those scenarios than to be tossed around in the jaws of a grizzly in Glacier National Park. And even if we did encounter a bear on a hike, did she really think those embarrassing bear bells would save us?

So I was bit sheepish unveiling my $40 bear spray purchase to Dave. Cuz, you know, I aren’t afraid on no bears!

But really? It was hard to ignore the headlines screaming at us from every pitstop on our drive so far: two major bear attacks in two weeks, not all that far away from where we’d be camping, one resulting in death. It got me thinking one night, on the outside wing of the pop-up. And why I’m on the outside wing — the first to die for sure — instead of Dave, I have no idea. Actually, to be fair, I do know why it came to be that way: Dave gets up earlier than me and doesn’t like to crawl over me in the morning. Still. Isn’t a man supposed to protect his woman? (He’d tell you that he IS protecting his woman: he’s closer to the door.) You’ll note that Morgan has stationed Charlie on the outside wing, too. And I’m sure she’d say she’s protecting her little brother. And we’d all know she’d be lying, so why would anyone believe Dave for saying the same thing?

ANYWAY…

I was laying in bed all snuggly in my sleeping bag wondering, So what WOULD I do if a bear (or an ax murderer, for that matter) started tearing through the canvas (I know, it sounds insane. I’m becoming my mom…), and I realized we have not one thing to defend ourselves. Charlie’s pocket knife? That assumes we could actually find Charlie’s pocket knife…

Plus we hike a lot on quiet trails. We should have bear spray! It’s a responsible thing to have. And, if I can someday save Dave’s life with it (and I will find a way if I can) then it will all be worth it.

The tire(s) repair took quite a bit of time. Then Dave — of all people — insisted on driving into the square of town of Jackson, so that he could buy cigars. Cigars! Charlie was practically crying, since he now considers his dad to be a “smoker.” He hasn’t smoked cigars in years, but picked the indulgence back up on a recent Prairie Dog Hunting Trip.

Yes, you read that right: Prairie Dog Hunting.

That is wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know where to begin. I love prairie dogs. I have nothing more to say on that subject.

We ran over to buy t-shirts at the store we bought them at three years ago. I contemplated buying a really loud shirt and changing the type to say ‘Jackson Hell’ but no one thought it was funny except me and $20 seemed like a lot to spend on a joke I’d never actually wear.

The kids had their eyes on The Merry Piglet for lunch, but no, I had something better stowed away in the cooler: BUTTERMILK FRIED CHICKEN! It was messy, but very good.

Then it was on to the interstate for about five more hours. Destination not Coeur d’Alene, Idaho as hoped, but Elkhorn Springs, Montana, into the Beaverhead Deerlodge National Forest. At about 6:30 pm it was spitting rain with the temperatures fluctuating from 85 down to 65 and back again several times depending on whether it was raining or not. We hit one campground and weren’t impressed. I wish I had a picture of the couple siting on the right on thge edge of the road in their chairs a few feet in front of their behemoth trailer facing us as we drove by. We have no idea what their vista was or what they were smiling at, but they were truly a sight — and the main reason we kept driving.

Another reason we kept going was that we wanted to drive through Polaris, Montana. We planned to take a picture and send it to my brother (who works for Polaris Industries), but sadly, Polaris, population unknown, did not have a sign.

It was getting late, so we only perused two more campgrounds before settling on Grasshopper. It was very pretty with wild Lupines and Indian Paintbrush all around the sites.

The plan was to have the ribeye steaks over an open campfire (new for 2010!), but it started to rain, and the collective psyche evolved in unison to desire spaghetti — our ‘RAIN MEAL’.

But then, it cleared up and the sun came out again and it was back to steaks. Everyone was excited, except of course for Morgan, who tends to pout a bit until you can give her a reason to smile — like Manchego cheese with fig jam! [Problem solved.] Plus, the steaks were a big hit.

We were very thankful for the bug spray purchase in Jackson as the mosquitos fairly engulphed us. I like to think we are the toughest of the tough in the mosquito department, coming from Minnesota, but I was thrown for a loop. These were the worst I’ve ever encountered — including my own garden in June. Which is hard to admit because it gives me less to complain about.

We coated ourselves in 100% Deet …and promptly all had massive seizures.

Kidding. But seriously 100% Deet? Is that even legal? Seems a bit heavy-handed.

The mosquitos stopped biting for sure, but the spray did nothing to alleviate the mental anguish of having 20 mosquitos hovering right in front of your face. I’m really not exaggerating. They won the battle and drove us to an early slumber. (After a cigar stroll around the campground loop to gawk at all the RV’s).

Road Warriors 2010 d2

Day 2

7/30/2010

We made driving it through the night with only a one hour ‘shut-eye’ stop by Dave. [My journal does not mention the morning hours of 7/30. I have no recollection and am unable to fill in the blanks. I can only assume we ate something at some point and that one of us was driving the car. Obviously nothing else of import happened]

We arrived at Monchamp’s Killdeer Ranch in Riverton, Wyoming (where Charlie was staying) around 11am. We totally surprised them, as it turns out, since the cell phone number I was texting was not Julie’s (the mom), as I had presumed, but Monte’s (the son). And it had been out of batteries for days.

When they expressed surprise upon our arrival, my Dave said “Oh, we should have called, I just remembered I had both your phone numbers.” –I about clobbered him. I had absolutely no idea that he had their numbers. I suppose I should take a more active mom-type roll? If it’s any consolation, I think they’ve come to expect a certain ‘hand’s off’ mentality from us and don’t seem to mind. Or maybe they just think we are disorganized parents… which I guess we sort of are. At least I am. Dave would probably take issue with that…

We visited for about a half hour. I’m just kicking myself for not getting a picture. I’ve completely dropped the ball so far on any pictures at all — even my annual “leaving the driveway” shot.

We left for Dubois — pronounced not Doo•BOY like you’d assume, but DOO•boys. Hicks. It’s just like when the locals in Colorado say Buena Vista as B•YOU•na Vista instead of BWAY•na.

We were headed for The Cowboy Cafe, since Charlie had proclaimed it “probably one of the best restaurants I’ve ever eaten at in my ENTIRE life. Seriously, Mom.” So we ate there. It was good, but I’d have to disagree with that level of praise.

We popped into a few shops, then headed out of town on 26/287 over Tota-something pass into Jackson Valley. We are not superstitious people, but Jackson and the Menke’s… well, the relationship has not been good.

It was later than we planned, but what’s new? Much road construction is partly to blame, as is the unexpected time spent at the very crowded Cowboy Cafe.

Given the time and our extreme drive-through-the-night fatigue, we discussed staying on the Jackson side for the night, rather than going over Teton pass into Driggs/Targhee as planned. It should have been an easy decision, but given our deep-seated resentment for Jackson, ever since having to buy a new car 3 years earlier during the Road Trip from Hell, we prefer not to tempt fate and drive through as quickly as possible.

But as I mentioned earlier, we are NOT superstitious. We even considered heading back to Curtis Canyon Campground (and our favorite site overlooking the tetons) that we have stayed in on two previous trips — the actual scene of the crime where our previous Suburban was towed away forever! But that seemed silly, since we were so tired and would be passing at least three other campgrounds on the way.

I was driving like a little old lady on the rough gravel road leading to the campgrounds we were going to check out thinking, “There’s no rush, why chance a blown tire…” since the rock on the roads in WY seems particularly unkind to our wimpy Minnesota-grade tires. I was just tooling along, when…

CHECK TIRE PRESSURE

Said the in-dash display. So I pressed the button and watched as the Front Left Tire Pressure decreased:  28…25…21…18…16…15

Dave and I hopped out of the car. I was running around saying “Where’s that Fix-A-Flat stuff? DAVE! WHERE IS IT?!” All he could do is stand there and say “Damn. Jackson Hole. Can you believe it?”

I talked him into trying the Fix-A-Flat stuff  (I mean, why not try it?!) because at least we could maybe make it to the campground before dark and set up camp and get dinner started while he changed the tire at his leisure. He was very skeptical. I was a LUNATIC about it because — for GOD SAKE — the tire was deflating before our very eyes!

He got it out and squirted it in and…

it worked.

It was at 12 psi and went up to 13 psi while we drove. Like MAGIC.

And I can’t help but say it: I am a true hero. Lord knows nobody else is going to recognize it.

In true Road Warrior fashion, we proceded to go, not to the first, not to the second, but the third campground along the rough road with an almost-flat tire. Because that’s how we roll. (get it?)

But we made it and Dave changed the tire like a champ. But then, he’s had a lot of practice, hasn’t he? [still no pictures!]

I’m lobbying to let some air out of ALL of the tires, including the camper tires, with the idea that less pressure is better for these roads, but I’m not making too much progress on that front.

We had brats from the Minneapolis Farmer’s Market: Philly Cheese Steak and Buffalo Blue Cheese flavors. I forgot to plan a side dish for the brats — at least I think I forgot to plan a side dish… Anyway, we we had two packets of the Boil-In-A-Bag rice that Morgan obsesses over (why, I have no idea), along with an amazing Tomato, Mozarella, Avocado salad.

Morgan started her book and we lost communication with her for the night.

There was literally no wood to be found — not even a twig — for a fire. We used some charcoal for the brats.

Hence, there was no fire to sit around. It wasn’t cold, but a fire might have helped keep the mosquitos at bay. It is embarrassing to admit that BUGSPRAY was not only missing from the camping box, but it was also missing from the master camping list. I don’t even know how that is possible.

It didn’t matter too much to me. I’d been moving at about 1/4 my normal speed and efficiency since arriving at the site and had taken on the Renee Zellwiger squinty-eye look from fatigue. I don’t know if we actually went to bed at 8pm or at 9pm, being that no clocks have been changed to reflect the local time and no one has cell service to check. I thought it was 8, but Morgan thought it was 9.

Either way, it was inarguably lame.

And undeniably awesome.

We love our little pop-up.

Road Warriors 2010!

I seriously can’t believe people want to read about the hill-billy, road-trip travels of the Menke family, but there it is. They apparently do. It was a little weird keeping my journal this year, knowing I’d be retyping it here later, but it didn’t change things all that much. I might have left out all the talk of bodily functions (does anyone really want to know how many craps I take?), and certainly every time I pulled out my camera, I had Dave running away to hide, worrying beyond all reason that it would soon be posted here for all the world to see…

The trip this year was always meant to point us east toward Washington D.C., which Dave seems manically bent on dragging his family through for the ‘experience’. I say: go on the dang field trip with Charlie’s school next year if you want to go that bad. But that would leave Morgan (and me) out of the loop, so the discussion always ends there.

Anyway, I digress. Right up until two weeks before we were to leave on our trip, the plan was to go east. I had voiced my displeasure early and often throughout the planning, always ending with “But I’m sure it will be fun. Dave is totally in charge and I will make sure we eat good food. How bad can it be?”

Morgan was delighted with the plan, as she had it in her head we’d be making many stops to highly populated and urban areas rife with retail opportunities.

“This is a CAMPING trip,” I’d remind her.

Dave poured over maps and the internet, planning — no doubt — a fun filled adventure. I didn’t ask much: only to drive a northern route either coming or going to spend a day and night in Pictured Rocks Park for kayaking in the liquid green waters along rocks and caves of northern Lake Michigan. (It sounded cool when described in a recent Outside magazine.)

To my amazement, while in Hayward over the 4th of July, Dave said, “What do you think about going to Banff?”

Banff????

Am I dreaming?

I LOVE BANFF!

And so it was: I got my way by being totally easy going.

As usual, we made no plans or reservations, preferring to travel by the seats of our pants. Which I find always a good thing, since — how can anyone plan for disaster? At least when disaster strikes, you haven’t upset any plans or reservations.

It makes perfect and complete sense to me.

Banff is a long drive from Minnesota on even the most direct of routes. It’s an even longer drive when going by way of Wyoming. And no, not Wyoming Minnesota, as some of the people I told assumed I was referring to. The state of Wyoming. Specifically, the Wind River/Riverton area, where we would be picking up the young and traveled Charlie Menke from his stay with some good friends.

Also complicating the journey was the pain and suffering we’d feel at the separation from our beloved animals.

Not.

I did feel bad dropping Lola off at Bed and Bone Kennel, but that’s her own fault. If she wasn’t such a freakin’ Cujo, she could have had a lovely time playing with all the other dogs in their sofa-strewn “Big Dog Party Room.” No, Lola gets her own “special room” at the kennel. Which basically means solitary confinement.

I’m sure my parents reading this are cringing right now, expecting me to skewer them here for bailing out on taking Lola to the lovely locale of Round Lake for some one-on-one time with Granny and Gramps. I’m sure the dog they opted to care for in place of Lola (Holly, I believe her name is) was worth the devastation of our relationship.

Kidding. No hard feelings, guys. (Which they made-certain of with a timely cash payment for “the barn utilities.” Give it up. We all know it was guilt money.

Look at the time! And I haven’t even started the journal! Here we go!!

ROAD WARRIORS 2010, DAY 1

7/29/2010, 6:30pm


Dropped Chin (the chinchilla) at Scanlons and dropped Dave’s car off at the Buttenhoff’s, and we are OFF! Only 2.5 hours later than ‘tentatively planned’. We are getting so much better at this!

No one ate dinner and therefore we contemplated a stop in Waconia (only 10 minutes from home), like we did last year. We were discussing how we swiped a bunch of mayo packets for camping from Subway when… suddenly we are past Waconia and past all food opportunities. So I’ll give you one guess as to who was driving.

Two hours later — and only, I suspect because he had to pee — and we stopped in St. James, MN. It bears noting how things have changed in just a year or two of these road trips. (At least when there is a cell signal anyway). I grab the iPhone and choose an app: Bing or Where or iWant… tap “Local” and search restaurants. All the options pop up. You hit the map button and it opens the GPS and guides us there.

You’d think with all the technology we’d end up somewhere better than McDonalds.

It matters not. I love my iPhone!

Since Dave requested the “graveyard shift” (that would be the late-late driving shift 1 or 2am to whenever) versus the early-late shift (before the late-late), I took the wheel after McDonalds.

Morgan has the luxury of having the whole back seat to herself and it is piled high with crap.

I should mention, for the sake of history, should we ever forget, that Charlie is absent from this initial leg of the journey because he is out in Wyoming with Monchamps. We are “picking him up”, if such a thing is possible being that we are a thousand miles away and heading north to Banff.

Exciting this year is the addition of a MIFI! For Dave’s sake I will once again try to explain the concept (he still doesn’t get it). A mifi is a portable wireless hotspot that uses a cellular data signal and broadcasts it to people nearby — me on my laptop, Charlie on the iPad and Morgan on the iPod.

Oh my gosh. We sound like such LOSERS!

Anyway, I got the VirginMobile unit as opposed to the Verizon unit because VM is cheaper all the way around. You don’t have a contract, only paying for data as you use it. That’s the upside. The downside is that Verizon has better coverage.

So far, not so good. My AT&T iphone coverage has been better than the wifi. Me thinks this Sprint network that VM is on does not “rock” like the Best Buy salesgirl said it did… Time will tell.

I settled into the seat with my current audible book “Girl in Translation”, while Dave pulled out his lime green inflatable neck pillow (which he professes to love just as much as I love my iphone) and instantly nodded off to sleep. Morgan is watching Moulin Rouge and I fear her recitations of the songs from it will rival that of last year’s Road Trip movie of her choice, Rent. At least Charlie isn’t here to complain about her singing…