Jenmenke

Road Warrior

camping

Road Warriors Three, Day One, Part Two

It is still 7/29/11 and we are still barely out of the driveway.

As I mentioned, the plan was to leave at 5 am and caravan with the Koo’s. But since we left almost an hour late, and since they live almost an hour south of us, they had a healthy head start on us. We almost caught up with them in South Dakota at Kadoka. Our route was 169 south to I-90. Then we decided to take the scenic route and go south on 73 at Kadoka and spill in to Ogallala at I-80 and head into Colorado that way.

So anyway, it was looking like we’d meet up with them around lunch-ish, but the Menke car uncharacteristically made several random stops (for gas, for potty, for food — so you can pretty much know I was not at the wheel) and so, we never quite met up with them along the way.

The food options for lunch were slim in Murdo and Kadoka, so we ate the “oven-fried” chicken* and fruit and veggies out of the cooler. The kids, who yearn for the fast food and crap that simply IS this part of our road trip were dismayed. I was dismayed to discover that my beloved baby cucumbers from CostCo, purchased just two days before, were slimy and disgusting. That has never happened before. They were dispatched to the slimy and disgusting gas station garbage can. I am heartbroken. I will now have to eat the only other beloved thing at hand. Special K bars.

* * *   I N T E R M I S S I O N    W H I L E    I    E A T     A    S  P E C I A L   K    B A R   * * * *

* * *   A N D    A N O T H E R  * * *

It was a happily uneventful drive. We finally met up with the Koo’s in Sterling, CO at The River Grill & Bar for dinner. Beer, margaritas and a burrito for me made it a successful event.

During dinner, we debriefed and compared notes: on the prep, on the drive. Who was mad at who. Are they really as perfect as they seem? Stuff like that.

Grace and Lydia (15 and 13 respectively) tend to fight — as most sisters do. So Wes and Jan were pleasantly surprised that they pretty much got along during the 15 hour drive. Wes then spontaneously rated them a 7 out of 10 and Jan concurred (What a lovely couple.). Morgan and Charlie don’t really fight all that much. They just tend to verbally spar about issues such as Morgan’s incessant singing and Charlie’s stupid questions and general cluelessness. This is annoying for sure, but not so bad as to call it fighting. I rated them a 9.

Then, hearing what was taking place at our end of the table, because my kids have a bionic noise filter that digitally identifies the voice pattern when their names have been whispered from across a noisy room, they started talking over each other to tell the Koo’s how bad Dave and I had behaved on the 15 hour trip. Charlie quickly rated us a 4 out of 10 while Morgan countered that she wouldn’t even give us that much. You see? They can’t even agree on that.

But OK, I admit it is true. We were naughty. Everything Dave did bugged me today. And while I would never presume to put words in Dave’s mouth (irony, sarcasm. he has no words in the first place. if i didn’t put any in there, there would be no words at all.) I would venture to guess that everything I did bugged him, too.

I can’t imagine a scenario where I could possibly bug anyone, but I must record the truth.

I vowed to be nicer.

The other main dinner topic was that we found ourselves to be a couple hours behind where we really wanted to be and were trying to recalculate our plans for the night and the next couple days.

Initially, we had planned to make it to a campground outside of Boulder and Rocky Mountain National Park and spend two nights at what we envisioned to be a lovely locale. We’d visit Colorado University one day and Rocky Mountain National Park — where, ironically, we have never been — the next day, before heading to the Dunes for the 3rd night.

The main idea was to spend two nights without having to move. We knew we’d be moving a lot on the trip and it was thought that after a long drive it would be nice to be able to linger at our first destination. But (and this is just me talking now) whoever came up with that plan musta been on drugs. It’s high season. It’s Friday night. We are outside the Outdoor Capitol Of The World and a National Park. We were banking on leaving at 5 in the morning, experiencing no delays and arriving at 8 pm with no reservations in the best of circumstances. What do YOU think our chances of finding a bucolic site in a beautiful campground to be?? Since I was not the planner I made my feelings known TO the planner and Dave and I continued our 4 out of 10 (or less, depending on the judge) behavior.

Obviously, I am failing at my vow to be nicer.

Instead, we got the last spot at the North Sterling State Park Campground on a popular reservoir. And let me tell you something. Minnesotan’s despise reservoirs. We’re not a mean folk, but we do have our standards.

It was astonishingly buggy and we were all pretty tired. We didn’t last too long around the fire. The neighbors are loud, the generators are a-humming from the RV’s parked… everywhere.

Still. It’s a place to lay our weary heads. And we did.

Oddly enough, it was a good night’s sleep. It cooled off nicely from the low 90’s down to the 60’s for the night, and the Family Circus next to us actually slept in till about 7am. We won’t, however, be lingering for a second night. It’s off to Roosevelt or Arapaho National Forests which surrounds RMNP at first light.

*Oven Fried Chicken

This is spectacular, even if it is a complete misnomer. Well, not a complete misnomer, as it does go into the oven to bake, but you still have to deal with deep frying in the beginning. I had found this recipe and failed to read it through before committing to it at 10:30 pm the night before the trip. Still, now that I’ve tried it, I am hooked. It is FABULOUS and worth it, even for those who despise deep frying as much as I do.

  • Soak 1 cut up chicken in 1 quart of buttermilk for 10 hours or overnight.
  • Preheat oven to 350
  • Mix 1 cup flour, 1 cup panko crumbs, 2 teaspoons coarse salt, 2 teaspoons fresh ground pepper in a dish
  • Coat the chicken well on all sides with mixture
  • Heat 1″ oil in deep sided, heavy pan to 360 degrees
  • In two batches, frying half the pieces at a time, Fry about 3 minutes on each side and remove to a wire baking rack set over a roasting pan. Bring oil back to 360 degrees before beginning second batch
  • Bake in oven for 30-40 minutes until juices run clear
  • Serve hot or cold.
Ah-mazing.

Road Warriors 2010 Day Eight

Day 8

8/5/2010

NEWS FLASH: Dave slept until 9am.

Never in the history of the camping world has that happened before.

I was up and sort of wandering the empty campsite wondering what to do. I haven’t a CLUE how to make coffee in our camping coffee pot. I get where the water and coffee goes but don’t know how much of either to use or how long to cook. Stuff like that.

There are very few things in my life that I deliberately make dumb on, but I’m entitled to at least two or three and camping coffee is one of them. Well, any coffee pot, other than my own, I guess. I’m just a bad coffee maker.

In the midst of my wandering, Charlie stuck his head out of the camper and cried, “No fire?!”

And I realized I don’t do fires, either.

Not learning how to use Dave’s coveted new zero-turn mower is the third. I spent 11 years mowing our yard and garden with a push mower and revel in my new role as sunbathing onlooker.

And I think that’s about it. I think I pretty much can do anything else. Test me. I dare you.

I did get to work on blueberry pancakes with those amazing local blueberries, only to be told by the emerging sleepers that it was “a little too early for pancakes.”

What?

We leisured our way through the morning, eventually making sandwiches and packing up for a day in the car and on the road.

You see, Dave wanted to see the Columbia Ice Fields, located midway between Banff and Jasper. Being the most experienced Banff traveller from my many forays to the park with my family growing up starting in the 70s and ending in 1981, it was natural for Dave and the kids to know if I had been to the ice field.

Yes and no.

Here’s what I remember:

I remember driving in the car with my family on the way to the ice field with the idea of possibly going even further to Jasper. I remember at some point, a mutiny occurred. Whether it was my mom, brother and I against my dad or if it was us against my mom (highly unlikely, as it was always my dad who was the idea-man back then), I can’t be certain. But I remember that we had all had it. And started begging my dad to turn the car around.

I do know that we got to the ice field — which in my opinion is a total misnomer since you can’t actually SEE the ice field. Instead, you see one or two fingers of the ice field (glaciers).

I remember getting out, walking on the glacier and overwhelmingly vetoing the option to ride in a Sno-Cat on the glacier.

And mostly I remember that we all thought it was a waste of a day in the car.

After all, four or five hours roundtrip (depending on stops and traffic) is a lot of driving for a Minnesotan to see snow.

However, that was somewhere between 30 and 35 years ago. Now I had the chance to torture my own kids with the experience. Who was I to deprive them of this opportunity? Plus, Dave was throwing down the gauntlet. It didn’t matter how much I dug my heels in. He was determined to go to the ice field whether I came or not.

But that didn’t mean I had to be pleasant about it.

So I wasn’t.

I still say it’s a long stinkin’ drive to see some snow. But, to be fair, I have to admit that parts of the drive itself are pretty impressive. The vistas are huge. Not craggy and steep, so much as long and unbroken continuous slabs of rock; tilted and touching the sky. Nice.

The Columbia Ice Field — Athabasca Glacier to be more precise — is the destination stop for the ice field and it was crawling with people. We aren’t used to camping during “high season” so we aren’t the most patient (or kind) carload of people. Sadly for our immortal souls, some of our best laughs and fondest memories come at the expense of the colorful or interesting travelers that we meet along the way. People are just too funny not to make some fun. I suppose I shouldn’t admit that, but it’s true.

From the parking lot, the people walking up to the glacier looked like ants in my kitchen. After pounding our sandwiches out of the back of our car (who needs a picnic site?!) standing in the parking lot, we joined the pilgrimage . It was pretty interesting to see the year markers denoting where the glacier had been — going all the way back 150 years.

I wondered if I had been remembering it wrong that — when I was there years ago — the glacier had been almost to the parking lot. But no, the recession has been that dramatic. From the marker closest to the time I was there, you couldn’t even see the glacier.

The other big change was that you couldn’t walk on the glacier any more. Actually, that only changed a couple years ago. Due to the rapid melting, there is now a river and a lake under the toe of the glacier that makes it too dangerous. Most of the signs on the walking paths were — not about the history — but about the hysterical danger warnings and deaths that have occurred.

The interpretive center (also new since I had been there) was very cool. It had historical videos, displays and other stuff to help you grasp the immensity of the ice field that you don’t ever get to see. And it had an evergreen with purple pine cones. I’m not kidding. This photo was not retouched at all:

Worth the trip?

No.

Can’t say I didn’t tell him so.

A long drive “home” with another late-in-the-day side trip to Yoho to see Takakaw Falls and Emerald Lake. We missed the turn for the falls, so went to Emerald Lake first instead.

Rather than a hike, the Boss Man made an impulse decision that we would canoe instead.  Charlie was ecstatic, having been on a continuous loop during our time at Lake Louise:

“We should rent a canoe. Dad. We should rent a canoe. Hey Mom. We should rent a canoe.”

Repeat.

I’m not sure , but I think The Reluctant Hiker was elated too — though she hid it well underneath the crabby facade we are becoming used to in her 15th year…

I canoed with Charlie…

and Dave with Morgan.

It was really fun, I have to admit. (So long as I made an effort to forget how much the hour was costing us…)

We left to hit Takakaw (which I insisted on saying loud like a crow’s caw every time I said it) Falls on the way back. There was a view of the fall on the road in that was spectacular. I wish we had stopped to get a picture. We parked and after the obligatory feeding of the Ground Squirrels

we started on a short walk to the base of the falls which I had to keep assuring Morgan was not a “hike.”

The falls were ridiculous. Truly unbelievable. Huge and cool. It slays me that the guide book treats it like any other site. This one should at least say something like “A must see” or “Don’t miss!”

It helped that a brilliant rainbow highlighted the bottom of the falls.

It didn’t even seem real. Unfortunately, we missed the perfect Christmas card photo by seconds. Just as we realized the “magic hour” color of the sunlight with the rainbow behind it was captured perfectly on camera…

the sun sunk behind the mountain. We were in the process of frantically trying to get someone to take the picture for us.

But no one spoke english.

That is the truly crazy thing about these Canadian Parks. Everyone is from Europe or Asia.

Damn them all!

I had to talk Dave out of stopping at Lake Louise for some chicken to cook with the Tastefully Simple White Chili on the menu for our last camping dinner. “We don’t need it! Don’t stop! Let’s just get back! It’s late!” — I hate grocery shopping as much on vacation as I do at home, it seems.

We got back to camp around 8:30pm and quickly made the white chili, corn on the cob and fire-toasted flour tortillas (a great idea!). It was great, even without the chicken.

Everyone was dog-tired, and headed off to bed, one by one, leaving me to toil over this very journal late into the night with my headlamp.

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 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.