Jenmenke

Road Warrior

Road Warriors

Road Warriors Three Day 8: FINALE!

Friday, 8/5/11

[non-journal addition: The time to which I’ve milked this trip is shameful. This is the end. Final. But don’t get excited. There is no Thelma & Louise ending.]

It rained again during the night. Probably just to keep up our streak of wet muddiness going.

While I tried to finish off the banana bread — I totally forgot about it! — Morgan was trying to finish off the marshmallows. Go figure. Cut from the same cloth, but she is on the bias: wild, stretchy, and smooth…

Initially, we were going to hike and then come back to camp and pack up. But after conferring, it was decided that might be too ‘risky.’ I’m not sure what the perceived risk was purported to be, but if I had to guess, it might have something to do with the Cat Lady Campground Host. Did I not write about her yet? It seems like a lot of work now to write about her… I’m losing my journaling steam.

Suffice it to say, the campground host has SEVEN cats living in her camper, along with a husband who — himself proclaimed, and I quote: “I’d check you in myself, but I’m too drunk” — when we arrived a couple days ago.

The kids don’t care. They love the cats — each with their own bell and disguishing feature.

Like crossed eyes.

Anyway. They seem just a little off base. Maybe the risk that Dave is speaking of involves them? I know not.

Check out is at noon, so we packed up, each of us, lost in our own thoughts about the end of vacation.

In keeping with our re-tracing of previous Colorado trips, we decided to hike the stupid Chief Ouray Mine and Lower Cascade Falls trail that we hiked in 2004. They can’t say I didn’t warn them: it was up, Up, UP.

And that was just from my failing memory.

In reality, it was even more. No wonder our kids revolted in 2004: Charlie was 6! It was a hard hike — I’m seven years older and I was feeling it in my legs for sure. It’s 1,500 ft over 2.5 miles.

We were looking forward to finding our name in the mining hut, written in coal from 2004, but we couldn’t find it. I’m sure it was in there somewhere.

Charlie opted to CARVE his name this time with his new blade.

And promptly cut himself.

I mean really.

There was the coolest rock cairn that we each added a rock to on the way up. And another on the way back down. It was like a game of Jenga.

…and Grace lost.

It was right about then that I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses. I had put them on top of my damn visor, then I whipped my damn visor OFF because it was so damn HOT. And apparently flung my glasses off into the brush somewhere. I kind of knew the area that I had done it and ran ahead with Charlie to look for them.

I really did think I would find them. We’ve just been so lucky this whole trip. But I didn’t. It’s my own damn stupid fault.

The hike took 3 hours total. I should note that Ampitheater campground, where the hike starts, was STILL full.

Afterwards, we went to Ouray for ice cream, lattes and ice. Dave had plans to go buy a shower at the hot springs, but opted out when he found out it was $12. So, instead, we hit the road home after consulting with the self proclaimed Route Nerd.

It was about 3:15pm.

We are heading north through Grand Junction to our home-away-from-home I-70. An early dinner was planned, but foiled when I misread my GPS in Glenwood Springs and missed the exit. If my kids could have roasted me alive and eaten my eyeballs, they would have.

Instead, we made it to Eagle on low, low gas and supposedly emptier stomachs. Wendy’s was an oasis.

We also decided to pre-empt fate, and changed the other camper tire before it had a chance to blow. It was so bald that you could see ripples in the rubber. Dave has been driving since we left at 3 and wants to make it to Denver. We are almost there. I hate it when he does this. It just puts more pressure on me to drive just as long.

I’m competitive, remember?

So I will most likely drive until we stop for the night somewhere between North Platte and Omaha. We shall see….

************

I took the wheel outside of Denver around 9:15pm. If Dave thinks I’m driving for six straight hours, he’s got another thing coming. I plan to drive for 6 hours and 15 minutes.

(not really. even I have my limits.)

We drove uneventfully to North Platte and pulled off to get a room. We went to FIVE hotels. And all were full. After some mad googling by Dave (which means not very fast) we figured out it was the start of Sturgis. Good grief.

The Koos planned to just keep driving and sleep in the car for a couple hours. I liked that plan better, but Dave was set on a hotel.

We got back on the road heading to the first town with an open room, which a kindly hotel employee had located for us. It was another hour to Lexington and wouldn’t you know, the tire pressure monitor started alerting us to low pressure in the left front wheel. We got off at the first exit to fill it, but it wasn’t low. Odd. We decided the computer sensor must be faulty and kept driving. The pressure finally stabilized at 20 (yikes). We made it to Lexington and got the last room at the Econolodge. It was 3 am. So I pretty much DID drive for 6 hours. Just sayin’.

I was just about to fall asleep when Dave flipped the covers off and turned the lights on.

Looking for bed bugs.

I mean really. He seriously did that.

Saturday 8/6/2011

We hit the road early. On our way out to the car, Dave mentioned that right rear tire looked low. We went to the gas station and sure enough it was: 20 lbs of pressure! But oddly, the computer said it was fine. Didn’t take me long to realize that my “bargain tire rotation” from a few weeks ago failed to also reset the tire monitors.

It felt like we drove and drove and drove and home was still far, far away. Dave was driving the first shift, which — having finished my books, I would really almost rather drive — I spent online researching cool pop-up trailer mods. I have ALL SORTS of ideas for our little friend…

The tire hung in there. Barely. We got home and unpacked. Everything was fine.

I wish there were more to say, but there isn’t.

Road Warriors Three Day Seven

Thursday, 8/4/2011

Eggs and toast for breakfast. Then sandwich making and Jeep-packing and off to Imogene Pass.

There was lots of traffic this year, as expected. In 2009, we were never quite sure if we were on the right road to the pass, since we only ever saw about four groups throughout the whole day. This year it was a veritable convoy of Jeeps, ATV’s and various other vehicles. Still, compared to what I imagined based on the campgrounds and town, it wasn’t quite as crowded as I thought. Not too much waiting, which was good.

We were stopping and taking lots of group family shots for potential Christmas Card shots, generally enjoying ourselves.

..Until a ranger  told us Imogene Pass would take 3.5 hours to Telluride. Some quick math from the backseat told us we would have about 9 minutes to shop in Telluride. Whoops.Dave took the wheel determined to break a new record. Shopping in Telluride was a very close second in importance behind the Dunes on the kid’s “must do’s.”

We stopped once at the peak for pics and raced to the bottom.

Dave upped the RPM’s, cut out all scenic overlooks and we made it in 2.5 hours, increasing our shopping time to one hour and 9 minutes. It was a little rainy — just like last time! — but not too bad. Good people watching. Seriously, who are these people?

Morgan bought a bracelet, Charlie a hoodie, and me a necklace & earrings. Dave was content to watch us while he conducted business on his Blackberry to pay for our indulgences.

A quick stop at the grocery store for french bread and bananas and we were back on the road. This time, like two years ago, by way of Ophir Pass.

Dave was gunning for Ouray since the Jeeps were supposed to be returned by 5 pm. There was no way we were going to make that, but he was going to try. God help us all.

[non journal addition: does anyone else besides me realize how stupid this entire trip sounds? vacations are supposed to be restful and instead we created for ourselves a trip mired in stress. every single day it seems like we were ‘late’ for something; hurrying to get somewhere. it sounds no different than yesterday, today and tomorrow. I can assure you it was fun. But sill. I want a re-do. end of non-journal edit]

It was 4:00 when we left Telluride. The ranger’s estimate of 1.5 for Ophir from Telluride to Ouray turned out to be more accurate than his estimate for Imogene. So it goes without saying that we were late. It didn’t seem to matter though. The Menke crew was all whipped up over nothing and the laid back, sight-seeing Koo-car never even realized there was a problem. They had it right.

R E L A X

The menu for our last night of camping is always the favorite. Not mine, mind you, but the kids. And Dave’s too, since I just asked him. (Spaghetti.) I was a little nervous though, about my quantities. My “thing” when prepping for the trip is to predict the exact amount of food we will eat and yet have NO leftovers. As you can imagine, this is a fine line. However, over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at it by keeping notes. When packing for our trip, I pull my list from the previous year and see things like this:

• 1 can green curry, 1 pkg chicken thighs (do not even think about bringing 2 cans. It’s too much!!)

But the addition of  the Koo’s put a whole new, complicated spin on things. So far I was doing OK, but not without the strain of worry and hand-ringing.

My green curry meal went OK. I brought 2 cans and lots of ingredients, and we did have leftovers, but nothing unmanageable.

I was verbally heckled about the meager taco meat amount, but it ended up being PERFECT, only having to throw away about 1/2 cup of meat.

The lead up to spaghetti, though, had me sweating bullets. And Jan upping the ante with her voluminous amounts of food for kabobs and foil dinners didn’t help my insecurities.

The anticipation for this meal was epic. And all I could think about was my carefully laid plans, standing at the stove in Watertown, carefully measuring out 8 precise cups of sauce for 8 people.

WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING?? I was going to be flayed alive by this spaghetti-loving crowd, who had already scared me into buying more linguine by convincing me the box and a half I brought with would be insufficient. What would happen if I didn’t have enough sauce? Would they try to eat me? Where is that switchblade of Charlie’s….

I decided to bluff my way through.

…and make a LOT of cheese bread. Those dumb kids always fall for cheese bread, eating way too much and not leaving room for dinner.

And some veggie apps to clean out the cooler.

And wine. Lots of wine. Those dumb Koo-cat’s always fall for wine.

Yes. This could work.

Then I laid out the rules. I serve this same crowd spaghetti every Christmas Eve, and I know how much gets thrown away. There was no WAY I we were going to be throwing away plates of food tonight. Not with this much riding on it.

So I sat the kids down and scared them good about not taking more than they planned to eat or face the wrath. Well, I should qualify that: I scared the Koo Kids. My own kids aren’t scared of me anymore. –Except when I’m giving Dave the silent treatment. For some reason that gets them kinda freaked out, which is at least something since it doesn’t get any reaction from Dave…

So anyway, they started small and ate what was on their plates. I got to approve each plate as it went to the dishpan. I think I scared them so much that it suddenly appeared they weren’t eating enough and I had to start yelling at everyone to eat more! I mean really. The whole affair was very stressful.

In the end, it was perfect. We ate ALL the noodles I brought with me and NONE of the new noodles. And we threw away about 2 spoonfuls of sauce.

I really am amazing.

Really. I am.

Lydia had disappeared with her new book into the magical world of muggles and wizards. Yes, after 10 years or whatever it’s been since Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone first hit the shelves, Lydia Mae wants to read them. I said, “Good for you!” And, “We’ll see you in about two years when you are done.” Regardless of the timing, it’s a worthwhile venture. They are great books.

And she’s obviously enjoying herself enough to forgo the night’s other anticipated food event: Banana Boats — Surely the most disgusting dessert ever concocted.

I mean really.

It was enough to make anyone head off to bed. Or at least me.

Road Warriors Three, Day Five


Tuesday 8/2/2011

6am and all is well!

The Jaguar family packed up and moved out sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Odd that we didn’t hear them. We heard every scream and conversation the night before. They pulled in to a reserved site late in the evening, in a brand new Jaguar sedan, and proceeded to set up a camp complete with a baby and a 3 year old. It was sheer chaos and mayhem that culminated in an all out tantrum by both the toddler and the dad at about 9pm. The mom seemed completely oblivious to absolutely everything, including the audience. We were entertained, horrified, sympathetic and disdainful all at the same time. And it was all free.

Queen Jennie has a wicked migraine. And she deserves it. Serves me right, I know better than to drink three vodka tonics. The good news was, psycho-bitch-queen-from-hell, the name given to me at a wedding in Chicago by Dave during our dating years that shall remain one of the best stories ever, was absent from camp last night.

This resulted in a slow start, but the dune hike worked it out of me. In fact, I was the only one to summit the peak by hiking an additional 45 minutes or so. The weenies! The dunes are so very cool. Sorry in advance for all the photos.

We took the sand dune trail and embarked on a much less populated route to the second-highest summit.

 

Grace and Morgan, self proclaimed “anti-hikers”, stopped after the first dune. They are so lame. But it made for a cool picture!

…the rest of us soldiered on.Dave has this odd hiking technique where he moves at an alarmingly slow and methodical pace with no upper body movement. We love to imitate him. This photo shows how steep the dunes are.

When I went to the other summit that is most easily reached from the parking lot, it was like a continual caravan of people. I could not wait to get out of there.

 

Goodbye Dunes! Until we meet again!

We packed up and got on the road around noon. Rain has been all around us, threatening, but never on us. Today is no different. It looks to be raining in Pagosa. All I care about at this point in time is getting my tacos at Kips Cantina. Can’t wait!

The road into the Pagosa Valley was as beautiful as ever.

And I did get those tacos: shrimp tacos to be exact. And they were delicious!

Charlie managed to obtain ownership of a switchblade between departure from Kip’s and finding the car.

Yes.

A switchblade.

I have nothing more to say on that topic.

We stopped at the grocery store and made our first much-needed additions to our pantry: bread, triscuts, lotion (you see, I made Morgan take her lotion OUT of her hugely overpacked bag because I already had some packed in my grossly underpacked bag. And somewhere in the hysteria, I decided “oh what the Hell, she can bring her lotion, I’ll just take mine out,” and… we ended up with none. She is gleeful at my ineptitude.), and a few more snacks.

At the checkout, the cashier asked me if I had a “CityMarket card.” To which I replied, “No.”

“Where are you from,” he asked?

“How do you know I’m not from here,” I replied.

“From your accent,” said he.

“I said ‘No’, that’s all!” I cried indignantly!

…All the while sealing my fate. In the simple, mono-sylabic  utterance of ‘no,’ I belied my Minnesotan origins. In. One. Word.  He even guessed Minnesota. I continued to make a Minnesota fool of myself saying, “Oh ja? Oh ja?” to his story of a kid from Mankato who worked there for a while. Fargo be damed. That movie has made a mockery of us all. The people behind me were laughing and trying not to be noticeable. It was all very humbling.

And then we were off to Pinion Hills Ranch, Morgan’s audible moans of protest not withstanding.

The weather finally caught up with us. It began raining about two miles out of Pagosa. The original plan was to have foil dinners tonight and then take a trip to the Pagosa Hot Springs after dinner.  But everyone was already full from our somewhat late lunch at Kips. So, instead we planned to set up, snack a bit and head back to town.

After we pulled in and proceeded to wind around the empty development, finally slowing to a stop at the furthest, most remote cul de sac, ten minutes after turning off the main road, the Koo’s nearly fell out of their van, eyes wide as saucers saying, “Where the Hell ARE we?!”

The cow pies, rain, and cacti in the cul de sac were hardly welcoming for the tenters. A split second decision was made to turn their van around and get a room at the venerable Hot Springs Resort in Pagosa.

Elation in OUR car quickly turned sour when it was learned that the Menke’s would not follow suit. We have a pop-up, dammit and I’ve been waiting for this night, and my own slice of heaven, the whole damn trip. I would NOT be denied.

So the Koo’s left and we set up camp. As I write this, Morgan is curled up in the camper with her beloved iPhone either

  1. texting
  2. watching old episodes of The Office
  3. reading a book

It matters not. I am just happy the sobbing has stopped.

Dave, Charlie and I are tucked under the rarely-used pop-up’s canopy. Reading, writing and watching the weather.

While I find it hard to believe we ever bought this land, I do truly love it. I’m not sure if I can imagine living here for real. But it is fun to pretend. That’s why I like camping. It’s like playing house when I was little. It kind of feels the same.

The rain picked up steam and it became hard to stay dry under the awning, so we packed things up and headed in to meet the Koo’s at the springs in Pagosa. It was raining and sunny at the same time and we saw the most amazing rainbow, start to finish.

The Springs are spendy — $20 a person — but they are a fun departure from the standard hot spring pool, in that they have many, many hot tub-sized pools at different temps with different views and different characters populating them. Morgan and Grace, for example met some very friendly 16 year old boys who kept them company most of the evening. Dave and I, meanwhile, in the River Pool with sand bottom met the directors of the Buddhist Temple that we pass on Truejo Road on the way to our property. We’ve always wondered about that place and here we meet the directors! Jan and Wes, we found out later, had spent about 20 minutes looking all over for us and kept running in to some yoga-pose girl who enjoyed meditating on the edges of various pools, in alternating poses, that best displayed her assets.

Regardless, a fun time was had by all. Way better than the naked springs from 2009, right?

It was briefly discussed to let the Menke kids crash on the floor of the Koo’s room, but in the end we squashed that plan. It just sounded like a pain in the logistical butt. Plus, there would have been all this pressure on Dave and I to have some big romantic night all alone in the camper. It all seemed rather taxing. After all, it was already way past our camping bedtime.

So off we went.

One. Big. Happy. Family. In our trusty little camper. So fun!

Road Warriors Three, Day Three

Sunday 7/31

6 am and I am awake. That is just so odd.

The idea was to say we were leaving at 8 am and to plan on actually leaving at 8:30 am. This is more like it. I can actually function within these reasonable parameters.

The Menke’s beat the Koo’s at camp take-down by about 15 minutes. We are getting our sea legs. Jan and Wes seemed to be a little thrown off by our efficiency and sense of purpose. They are frustrated with the girls and — get this — their messy van! Jan has a messy van this morning! I have never seen anything so soothing to my shattered confidence and this makes me happy. The forecast for Boulder is 96 degrees. And this does not make me happy.

****

The road out of Arapahoe National Forest (I, of course, thought we were in Roosevelt National Forest. Where we would have been if we had taken the correct turns, I think.) — County 14 — was far prettier than the area we camped in. The many campgrounds that we had hoped to stay in were gorgeous, right on the river we hiked the day before. And full. This was a Sunday morning and we saw many waiting to get spots even at the end of the weekend. So maybe those wrong non-turns actually saved us some time finding a site.

We lost the Koo’s somewhere on the way back South. We apparently… missed a turn.

I’m not making this up.

We stopped for gas at a 7-11 on I-25 north of Boulder. I mention this only because Dave surprised me with a Mountain Dew Slurpee! Is that love, or what? Maybe he was making up for my grave disappointment and loud protestations at not getting to at least drive through the heart of Rocky Mountain National Park.

I mean really.

Why even go through the last 24 hours if not to see what we came for? I ask you this. I’m asking again.

And again.

Why?

Oh! A slurpee! Mountain Dew!

…and it was never mentioned again. Perhaps I need to stop calling Dave clueless.

The plan was to meet at Chautauqua (that would be an AWSOME Words With Friends word) Park in Boulder for lunch and a hike up to the Flat Irons. Jan apparently has fond memories of this activity.

Wow! I did not know that Boulder was such a city! Very cute, but very, very busy.

And HOT. Ninety five degrees when we arrived at the park. Parking was a challenge. I would compare it to finding a spot by Lake Calhoun on a sunny Saturday afternoon during the Uptown Art Fair for a Surburban and a pop-up trailer. We got extremely lucky and found two spots not too far away from each other and did an amazing rendition of a pit crew, backing the camper into the first spot, unhitching and getting the car into the other spot, in record time, all while about 7 cars backed up waiting for us and a baby screamed its fool head off across the road while the hapless parents tried to take pictures of it on a fake fur carpet in mid-90 degree heat with netting stuck on to the tree behind it. Seriously, what are people thinking?

The hike was quickly vetoed by the masses.

We ate some lunch from the cooler. Morgan’s favorite thing to do!! And then headed for the campus.

Very pretty. But hard to get excited about much. Except maybe this fountain:

It was too damn hot.

Next, we hit Pearl Street — thee place to be — and promptly lost all steam. I say this with some authority because even Morgan lost her will to shop. And this is saying something. She hit the Prana store on the corner and after that I heard nothing more from her.

Charlie continued to hang from my arms, leaning on me, touching my hair, petting me like a dog and saying things like, “Why don’t they have an Airsoft store? Are you SURE they don’t have an Airsoft store? This is so stupid. When are we leaving.”

Do questions like that need answers? I say no.

Here’s what we DID do on Pearl Street: ATE SHAVED ICE. Many, many, many of them. It’s my best memory of Boulder: Mango, Cherry, Lemonade, Lime, and more. Dave, who never eats anything frivolous, had three. I figure, if he can count how many tacos I eat, I can count how many shaved ices he ate.

After leaving Pearl Street, Dave dropped Morgan and I off at a store to buy a CU t-shirt while he & Charlie picked up the trailer and coolers that we simply left out in the (96 degree) shade to try to preserve our food. (rather than leaving them in an even hotter car, that is.)

He picked us up and we headed out of town with me at the wheel. Koo’s were planning to drive by Jan’s old house and meet up with us on the road.

As we left town, the thermometer on the card read 97. When I was loudly bemoaning this fact for about the sixth time that day, Dave (or Charlie, or whoever it was who had the nerve to contradict me) said, “But it’s a dry heat.” I said, “WHATever! It’s MF HOT!” Only, I must have said the unabbreviated version because Charlie said “Geez Mom, you are really talking bad this trip.” Dave quickly concurred. Morgan just laughed because I think she secretly thinks it’s hilarious.

So now, I also vow to clean up my mouth.

But just to let you know how hot I, personally, am as I sit in the blaring sun of the driver’s seat: I have my hair in a high ponytail with an elastic headband holding my bangs off my foreheadscape. A here-to-never-been-done-before-in-46-years look that was captured on camera and I may even share if I get real brave. We’ll see. Even I have my limits.

Here’s the good news though: over the pass SW of Denver on 285, the temperature dropped all the way down to 70 and pretty much stayed there for the remainder of the way.

Ahhhhh.

Since the plan had been modified the day before, we were no longer barreling for the Dunes. Instead we were looking for a site outside of Buena Vista or therebouts. Dave was next to me, researching on his iPad, using a combination of its 3G AT&T connection, and my Verizon MiFi wireless hotspot, switching between the two when one network got bad.

Now, I have not talked too much about the whole electronica thing, because I find the whole situation worse than embarrassing. –Just know that we were wired.

Dave being Dave, however, does not really give much time or attention to the details of internet connectivity. He just wants it to work. (That’s a nice way of saying he just doesn’t get it.)

So, when he is researching campsites on his iPad in the hinterlands of Colorado, in deeply forested, low mountainous valleys, and starts jabbing at his screen in a violent fashion, I can pretty much tell you what’s coming:

“…grumble, grumble… this piece of *%$#@! sh*t..” (who’s got the potty mouth now, Dave?)

To which I will usually reply something like, “Dave, we are in a deep valley, I’m sure service is bad here.” And he will say,

“BUT I’VE GOT FIVE BARS!”

And I then try to explain that he shows 5 bars because he is right next to the wireless hotspot and the 5 bars represent only that–proximity to the wireless device, like the router at home. I go on to (patiently) explain that he needs to look at the MiFi to see what its signal strength is, because it likely has no signal at all.

“BUT I HAVE FIVE BARS!”

Oh never mind.

I have a couple things to note from today:

  1. Igloo coolers are dumb. They have pointy uninsulated tops that you can’t stack things on top of. You can’t open them in a tight spot. They don’t keep things cold. I do not like Igloo coolers.
  2. Dave is a hypocritical passenger. Need I expand on that? I think not.

[non-journal edit: yes. you do need to expand on that Jennie, as I have no idea what that means. I presume to guess that it means he yells at me when I’m driving for doing things he does all the time. But that is a guess and only based on day to day life and not actual memory. end of non-journal addition.]

*****

We headed up to Chalk Creek Canyon to get a site at one of three campgrounds. On the way, we quickly realized we had been up this road before. I had the journals from our previous Colorado trips in the glovebox and we found the entry, but I had failed to record the details. So they were no help at all, except for the fun I had re-reading them. Dave was certain the campgrounds were icky, dusty and dank. I said, “Those words are mutually exclusive. How can you have dusty and dank?” Basically I was disagreeing with him and he did not like it. Tensions were rising once again, and as we passed car after car after car after RV after RV after RV, it began to sink in that we may not even be able to find a site in this strange area.

Sure enough, the first two campgrounds were full. But the third time’s the charm. We scored a single handicapped spot that they do not open up to non-handicapped campers until after 7 pm. Which makes me think of reverse discrimination and all that, but I will refrain from going there now. This is not the time or the place.

We squeezed two tents and the camper into a single spot

— perfectly legal, apparently, because 8 people is the max. Jan set about to making dinner: Chicken Kabobs and Risotto.

Hmmm. Sounds ambitious.

It was. The long prep and cooking time gave the planning committee lots of time, however, to chew on the plan. While the line cooks were busy skewering meat,

The planning committee was, once again, sipping cool, tall vodka tonics that materialized only after I had popped my beer. While they discussed business, I sat back, eating cheese, drinking beer, listening and waiting for an offer of my own tall, cool vodka tonic. (I would be waiting a long time.)

I listened to various this and that’s about the plan, growing increasingly alarmed at the cavalier way in which the decision about our next days were being made. Frankly, it’s the same feeling I’ve had while sitting in various city counsel or board meetings over the years. I used to think boards made sound decisions based on solid research and good discussion. I remember sitting in some of my first board meetings with my jaw agape — surely they won’t vote on this right now, will they? How can they? Do we have a second? Passed! What the…?

And, sadly, this drink-sipping planning committee appeared no different.

I could sit in silence no longer. It was speak now or forever hold my peace! I jumped in with my opinion (The right one.), that the Dunes deserved a full day and not a drive-by at noon like they seemed to be agreeing on. What were they thinking? It was the most important part of the trip! When our kids learned we were going back to Colorado for a third time this year, they said that was fine, so long as we went to the Dunes again! Getting there at noon, when the sun turns the sand into hot lava and spending an hour or two, was not going to cut it! Grace and Lydia had never even seen them!

***pant, pant, gasp ***

I proposed the full monty, including spending the night at the campground in order for the kids to have adequate time there.

“The Queen has spoken,” said Wes.

And the decision was made.

I’m glad the Koo’s are fitting in so well!

Dinner was absolutely delicious. What a treat to sit on my big fat butt while dinner magically appeared on my plate.

This is what camping must be like for Morgan and Charlie!

After our late dinner and a few obligatory marshmallows, the Menke’s started their nightly teeth-brushing ritual and made their way toward the camper. I think the Koo’s are a little stunned to realize we all go to bed so early. I think they had this idea we’d stay up late, sitting around the fire, sipping wine and having deep and wonderful discussions.

Not.

Night night everyone!

Road Warriors Three, Day Two

Friday, 7/31/2011

There is something about waking up in North Sterling State Park Campground that reminds me of a parking lot. A nice parking lot. But still, a general parking lot feel.

And it is early! Jan the RacKOOn was rustling around the inside of their van, parked about six feet from our heads. She was either trying to be quiet and the sounds were magnified like those of a loud whisper, or she was purposefully trying to get the Menkes up and off their lazy asses so we could make tracks to a more suitable locale.

Either way, it worked. And while we didn’t break camp and leave quite as early as Ms. (rac) Koo (n) might have liked — there were Froot Loops to be consumed, after all — we were out of there by 8 am. And that’s not too bad. Not too bad at all.

The theme emerging today is that the Menke’s are not on their “A” game. There’s a lot of pressure to act like we know what we are doing, what with this being about our tenth year doing a big road trip, and I find our performance thus far to be a little embarrassing. Jan has this ability to have a place for everything and everything in its place that defies explanation. I spend insane amounts of time striving for this same state. While, for her, it just seems to “be.”

And frankly, it pisses me off.

They took down two tents long before we got our one pop-up down.

Then, after leaving the campground, we:

  • took three wrong turns
  • forgot to buy ice
  • And I forgot to pee when we stopped for gas. Not my kids, mind you. Me.

That was all within the first hour. Clearly we are going to have to step it up if we want to compete.

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Oh. My. Gosh. Seriously, we just missed the road to the campground we were planning to try first. We are so STUPID! Dave is TOTALLY blaming me. I TOLD him to go straight on 287 out of Fort Collins (cool town!) and to look for 14. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t the driver responsible for that? Can’t I curl my flippin’ eyelashes in peace??
Add to the previous list:
  • Jennie is a terrible navigator
  • Dave is a finger-pointer

Now, where was I…

O. M. G…. I swear to God, I just looked down to commence writing again and we missed the second road in to Rocky Mountain National Park after missing the first. So now we are on to Plan C because — God forbid  we turn around…

I think the Koo’s are considering a Plan D where they simply take the correct road and meet up with us at the Sand Dunes in a couple days. If I were in a car behind Dave, I know that’s what I’d do right about now.

Anyway, did I mention that Fort Collins is a lovely town? I think I did.

******

I pick up this writing this the next morning. It is never fun to have to portray yourself in a less-than-stellar light. But as I have mentioned before, I am duty-bound to the truth. Just because it is my version of the truth doesn’t make it any easier. And the truth is, I have been a crabby-pants.

Because we missed the roads to the first and the second campgrounds, we continued north to others on the (northern) list. It was hot, dusty and everything and everyplace was full, full, full. The area was ugly and seemed to be overflowing with hillbillys. Not that there is anything wrong with a nice hillbilly, but it did not add a positive element to the situation.

As afternoon faded to evening and as we were faced with a potential no-place-to-sleep crisis, we began the hunt for a dispersed camping spot.

For those unlearned in Colorado dispersed camping, this is where you camp if you have a trailer full of ATV’s and dirt bikes, a boom box with choice tunes, and a handgun with a full clip and an itchy trigger-finger.

Ahhhh, peace and…. not quiet.

And no water or bathrooms, either. But I don’t really care about that. In fact, I far prefer to find a tree rather than visit any outhouse. Any day.

Did I mention it was hot and dusty?

And hot? I think I did.

The site itself was kind of nice, if you ignored the broken glass and nails. I mean really. Are you getting a mind picture?

We made some lunch and lounged in the shade and got ready to go on a hike. Now I’m not one to complain (I actually just laughed out loud as I wrote that, and that’s saying something, considering my mood), but my swollen foot was still swollen. I was just able to get it in to my shoe after unlacing it all the way. But was still pretty sore.

I remained quiet and moody.

I really had no reason to be crabby, mind you. Aside from my foot. And the heat. Did I mention it was hot? So, I determined that I must be in my “adjustment phase” of the trip. This has been a feature of my personality since I was a child. When I was little, my mom and dad would tolerate my mood for as long as they could bear, and then they would yell at me and scare some sense in to me.

No one in my current circle has the sense to do this, so I have to do it myself. I prayed for sanity during the entire hike and sanity returned.

Thankfully. Cuz that was getting old.

Morgan is struggling with headaches. Not sure if it is from the altitude or the concussion. Either way, she is gobbling Advil and taking it easy. She is quite good at that, you know.

Charlie is picking up the slack, which is nice. But in general, both kids are being very helpful and productive. I’m not exactly sure what to make of that. Maybe they are trying to one-up their cousins. Yes… the more I think of it, that is probably it.

And I have no complaints about that.

We hiked “Big South” along the Cache Le Poudre River. There are three things that stand out from this hike:

  1. Kayaks galore
  2. Mosquitos galore
  3. Dave will simply never learn how to operate a camera.

We found out later that this stretch of river is top three in difficulty and quality for kayaking in Colorado. Due to a late snow, the road just opened the previous week — one of the reasons it was so busy. This area is also considered to be the buggiest in Colorado.

As for the camera, we have lots of “pictures” like this one:

OK. Got it!  (click that)

And only one like this one:

(which prevents me from photoshopping a new head on to Grace.)

Did I mention it was hot?

We stopped for ice in Rustic, Co on our way back to camp and were almost hit head-on by a big souped-up Jeep on a hairpin turn. Idiot hillbillies.

Upon return, I popped the requisite beer and Dave made vodka tonics for himself and the Koo’s. HEY! I would have had one of those! Darn it! He promised to make me one later. Green curry was the dinner plan, along with tomato mozzarella salad. I know I always say this, but: mmmmmm. I’m a little sad though, because my favorite meal is already over. During the course of the evening, we modified the plan yet again.

Since we are about two hours from Boulder (don’t ask me how we got so far away), and since Jan really wants to spend some time in Boulder and visit her old haunts (she went to CU), and since, based on the crowds we have encountered so far, we are thinking it might be hard to secure a camping spot by the time we get to the dunes tomorrow…

Anyway, many marshmallows later, it was decided that we would find a spot half way between Boulder and the dunes. This is starting to feel like deja vu.

It should be noted that I never did receive that vodka tonic.

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.