Road Trip West '19

We are streaking south on Interstate 35 in the frigid darkness.  Cold weather will follow us for all four days of our trek west.  The sadness of departure wraps itself around me.  Leaving home and family always does this to me.  It will pass.  I love travel; but always, the connection to home remains strong.

Travel Attire

We are two hours on the road when the sun peeks over the horizon.  Iowa.  Carol works the Times crossword; I travel with my thoughts.  Packing was easy this year.  I miss the challenge of getting everything to fit in the middle seat so that Rowdie can have her den in the way back.  I miss Rowdie. Nasty winds and sub-zero temperatures pummel us at our first fuel stop.

Day One is all about leaving snow and ice and freezing temperatures behind.  Our arrival in North Platte is cause for celebration.  The longest travel day is behind us.  We check in at La Quinta and head across the street to walk the golf course along the Platte River.  This year the river is stuffed to almost overflowing with swirling ice.  We admire the Canada geese flying formation above us as we sidestep their droppings on the greens.  I remove the special bag from my coat pocket.  Carol and I each reach in for a handful of ashes.  We sprinkle Rowdie's remains in a place we enjoyed wandering with her.

Open Water, Platte River

On Day Two we begin to look ahead.  We turn onto the launching ramp for I-80 and leave North Platte in the early morning darkness.  Overhead a thin sliver of moon floats in a sea of stars, startlingly bright.

Nebraska is as flat as Iowa.  Colorado rises in the distance long before we encounter the Welcome to Colorful Colorado roadside sign.  The hills begin to rise right at the border, as if the state boundaries were decided based on the terrain.  The dawn sky and landscape are all pastels, with a sprinkling of black dots in the hills.  Cattle.  Under the Colorful Colorado sign, a woman snaps a photo of her companion.

Frigid weather continues to follow us all the way to Grand Junction.  The sun is shining, however, and after we check in, we drive across town to the banks of the Colorado River.  There, we hike a favorite trail.  Again, I reach for the special bag and again we leave some of Rowdie at a site of good memories.

The only other walker on the trail overtakes us, and we strike up a conversation.  He lives in Colorado at the moment, but seems to move around.  He tells us he grew up in St. Louis, and Carol and he talk about neighborhoods and their high schools.  He is Carol's age, and still working as a pilot on the Mississippi.  He skippered the Delta Queen once upon a time.  Now he wonders when he'll be able to retire.

On Day Three, the lights of Grand Junction fade from the rear view mirror as we fly into the empty expanse of Utah.  The same cosmic artist with a pastel palette has preceded us this morning.  This is the best part of the road trip for me. We streak ahead toward distant mountains that never seem to get closer.  Exit ramps mark roads to nowhere.  Except that they lead to someplace and somebody.  I wonder whom.

The RAV4 floats in the expanse of desert.  The sky brightens.  The colors of the desert floor about us and the distant mountains sharpen to brilliant clarity.  Black shadows cling to every crevasse and canyon of the surrounding mountains.

Wild Utah

We pass Green River.  A road sign advises, No services next 106 miles.  Perfect.

Remember seventh grade math class?  A car leaves St. George, UT, at 7:30 a.m. and travels east at 75 mph.  Another car leaves Grand Junction, CO, at 6:30 a.m. traveling west at 80 mph.  Where will the two cars meet?  Answer:  The Wonder Café in Richfield, UT.

Paul and Aidan have been on the Pacific coast at Oxnard, CA, their own brief winter getaway.  Now they are returning home on the same route we are taking.  Aided by cellphone technology, we rendezvous in Richfield, Utah.  We have coffee and snacks at The Wonder Café, embrace and head off in opposite directions.

Rendezvous at the Wonder Café (I wonder how the photographer managed to miss the  name of the place!)

We spend our last night on the road in Death Valley.  We stop at Zabriskie Point in time to watch the sunset and then check in down the road at the Ranch in Death Valley.  We have dinner in the cocktail lounge of the Inn at Death Valley, a five-star resort.  Location.  Location.  Location.  The food was good, but not a match for Mill Valley Kitchen, much closer to home.

Zabriskie Point

In the morning we are in no hurry.  We drive the nine-mile one-way loop road to Artist's Palette, where we leave the car to wander through stunning canyons painted by a dozen minerals.  It is beautiful in the morning shadows, probably spectacular in the late afternoon sunlight, when we will be hundreds of miles down the road.

Artist's Palette

We return to our motel, where we take a last minute swim in the pool that is fed by warm springs. We discover their bocce court and play a few frames.

Desert Bocce - one point for red.

Then we're off to the Eureka Dunes, which lie adjacent to US Route 90, our road out of Death Valley. We explore the dunes separately.  Carol walks to the farthest and tallest dunes, along with several young people carrying snowboards.  I take a few half-hearted photos, then find a quiet spot away from the stream of tourists and do Tai Chi in the desert, with my eyes on the mountains that surround Death Valley.

Tai Chi Studio

On Route 395 out of Death Valley, I spot a white cross.  It's not by the roadside, a marker of a car crash, but on a barren hill, so far from the roadway that I see it only by chance.  What happened there?

San Luis Obispo is only about six hours from Death Valley, a cake walk compared to the previous three days' travels.  By the time we make our last gas stop, our well-organized back seat looks like a teenage boy's bedroom.  We've given up all attempts at keeping organized.  It's not necessary anymore, but still it grates on me.  The middle seat is now a jumble of random gloves, camera gear, scarves, empty plastic bottles, laundry, fleece, laptops, open bags of snack foods, damp swimsuits.  We purchase snacks without reason - salads, giant bottles of Snapple tea, peanut butter crackers. Carol buys a large bag of Cheetos.  (Carol!)

We gorge ourselves as we drive the last hundred miles.  Cheetos!  Appalling!  Delicious!  Orange fingers!  California, here we come!