Life Is A Highway

Chapter Ten

Our alarm clock was broken.

We’d only had him a year, and sure, he was small, bald and super cute, but he went off at irregular intervals for no apparent reason.

He was predictably unpredictable and he had no snooze button.

Alarm clock, thy name is Fenix.

We reluctantly opened our eyes the next morning to find ourselves toasty warm, the four of us snuggled together, stacked like sardines in the tiny double master bed.

Judging by the amount of condensation on the windows and the chill seeping through the thin walls, it had to be very cold outside which meant it was exactly the kind of morning you’d want to roll over and burrow deeper into those delightfully warm blankets to snooze for five more minutes.

In another life.

But in this life, our opinionated little alarm clock was sitting up in bed, very loudly informing us that he was hungry for the kind of breakfast only a Mama could provide.

There were four in the bed and the little one said, I’m hungry.

On the floor below us, Crixus was awkwardly pacing the narrow hallway, anxious to get outside and water every tree in the area.

Sometimes adulting really sucked.

Since I was otherwise occupied, Nick kindly took one for the team and crawled out of the warm bed to bundle up before braving the frigid morning air so Crixus could take care of business.

The icy wind practically sucked them out the door, stealing as much of our warmth from inside Little Geo as it could before the door slammed shut behind them.

The condensation didn’t lie, it was COLD out there.

When Fenix finished his breakfast à-la-Mama, I forced myself from the crowded bed and opened all the window coverings to let the warmth of the sun shine in and saw visual proof of just how cold it really was out there.

There was a thin layer of frost on every surface outside, sparkling in the early morning sun like millions of tiny diamonds.

A sliver of air whistled in through the window by the stove that I had cracked for ventilation before firing up the burner to boil some water because Mama needs coffee.

I was still actively trying to figure out if a watched pot would actually boil when the door suddenly blew open as a half frozen Nick gratefully returned to the toasty trailer.

Since Nick doesn’t like hot coffee, I poured him boiling water so he could make hot chocolate to warm himself up.

I carefully made coffee for one in my Yeti travel mug with my trusty AeroPress coffee maker in the tiny kitchen/hallway while the boys bounced between the dinette table and the master bed.

It felt so unfair watching their boundless energy that had been magically restored overnight while both Nick and I stumbled around the small trailer trying to see through bleary, sleep deprived eyes, attempting to get ready for the day amidst a tornado of youthful exuberance.

Feeling slightly fortified by a few tiny sips of scalding hot coffee, it was officially time to venture fourth into the icy abyss to get Little Geo ready to hit the road.

Thanks to our little alarm clock, we would be getting under way well before the storm blew in and with the freezing cold temperatures still lingering, the ground was rock solid which would make getting out of the deeply rutted dirt road that much easier.

With numb fingers we used the drill to raise the four stabilizer jacks on the trailer, stowed the wheel chocks, and listened to the Pilot grumble and groan as it took the weight of Little Geo when we raised the tongue jack back up.

Opening the hatch on the Pilot, Crixus eagerly bounded into his spot, always adventure ready.

The only thing left to do was start our engines and blast the heater in preparation for the car to receive a couple of children sized popsicles who were very ready to shed their layers and get bundled into blankets.

Hot coffee in tow, Nick and I said a mental goodbye to what had been home for the night and took a deep breath before slowly pulling out of our isolated camping spot.

We had zero issues getting out as we bounced and rolled our way back onto the smooth dirt road where we headed towards the US Route 89 North.

If everything went according to plan, in about two hours and twenty minutes (real time, not travel trailer time) we’d be crossing our next state border.

We were Utah bound!

By the time we made it out of the trees and onto Highway 89, it became quite clear that the weather report hadn’t been lying because the sky was filled with fierce and angry looking clouds that promised to wage war on the earth any second.

But this time it seemed that we were chasing the weather instead of the other way around which was a welcome change. We were tired of running.

We hadn’t been driving long when the Arizona landscape transformed before our eyes yet again.

The change in scenery was shocking as it shifted into towering red sandstone reminding us of the trip we’d taken to the Grand Canyon several years back.

There aren’t enough words to properly describe the majesty of those rocks with all the various shades of yellows, reds and orange colors but the word stunning comes to mind frequently.

Having grown up in wet, squishy, VERY green Oregon, this was an almost alien landscape to us and we had a sudden desire to explore every inch of it.

Speak of the devil, we had no sooner spoken the words when a huge sign suddenly appeared on the side of the road signaling the turn off for the Grand Canyon.

It came as a surprise, realizing just how close we were and that spark of Adventure we had so carefully been stoking flickered and flared, burning a little hotter.

Feeling a burst of inspiration we thought, let’s go! Let’s make this mad dash away from the pandemic an adventure to remember!

I quickly pulled up google maps to check what the route would look like to see if we could make it there with Little Geo but discovered that the pandemic was still fighting against our Adventures.

Closed.

So close, and yet… So far.

Thanks again Covid-19.

We had been feeling so isolated from the rest of the world on our state hopping trip north that we had almost forgotten that the world was still on fire as the virus continued to spiral out of control.

You’d think there’d be a cap to the madness but no, it just kept on going up and up and up with no end in sight.

It would seem that some of the rumors that we had been fleeing from in California had proven to be true because all National and State parks had officially closed their gates until further notice.

So much for exploring every inch of this amazing environment.

With no other options, we would be sticking to our original plan keeping our wheels pointed north as we inched closer to Utah.

After a couple of hours on the road, we pulled off at a Walmart in the small town of Page so we could stretch our legs a little and see if we could scrape together a resupply.

This Walmart was only slightly better off than the last one we’d been to the week before, most likely due to its remote location but it was still slim pickings.

But something was better than nothing and we were grateful for what we could find.

Even knowing the reason didn’t lesson the shock of coming face to face with more empty shelves as we made our way around the store.

Back in the parking lot we spotted another Geo Pro in the wild, parked close by and later met the couple who owned it. Like us, they were new to the RV life and had some troubles they hoped we could help out with.

We brainstormed a few ideas with them but ultimately didn’t have the answers they were hoping to find. Still, it’s always fun to talk with people you have something in common with so we were all feeling rather pleased to have been able to meet some fellow Geo Pro owners.

Loading up once again we hit the road and headed for that invisible state line just a few more minutes down the road.

Atlas was so excited be crossing into his fifth state and we excitedly pointed out the window as we passed the official welcome to Utah sign.

Life Elevated. We’ll just see about that.

It was official, we were REALLY not in Kansas anymore.

To me it felt like such an accomplishment, driving up the state of Arizona and crossing that border into a brand new state that we had never traveled to before.

It felt liberating, like despite the limitations Covid-19 had forced upon us we were still actively making the most of this unexpected Adventure back to Oregon.

But just like before, that feeling of buoyant bliss was fleeting. One state down, two more to go, and then what?

Panic spiked suddenly when reality came crashing down around us once more. What were we going to do once we got back to Oregon?

Should we just skip on up to Washington instead? That had been the plan after Nick finished hiking the Pacific Crest Trail after all.

Should we buy back in to the American Dream? Our Grand Adventure had failed us and somehow the reliable predictability of a 9-5 job and a non threating motionless home didn’t seem so suffocating anymore.

But at the same time, the idea of giving up all of this felt heartbreaking.

Looking around, I knew the fire of Adventure was still burning and I also knew without doubt that I WANTED this life of freedom, I wanted to travel and see these amazing, wonderful places, I wanted to feel the power and the magic of it all but everything was so uncertain now and I was afraid.

My panicked thoughts were so loud that my ears couldn’t hear the road nose or the cars that passed our slow moving caravan and I felt myself silently spiraling out.

Somewhere in the background, Nick was talking to me as we went over our options, analyzing our feelings, trying to figure out the next big plan and I struggled to keep up with the conversation.

In such an uncertain situation with so many unknowns, our plan was in tatters and we were circling our options endlessly with no clear path forward.

The panic continued to spike and I could feel a panic attack coming on.

What were we going to do? Where were we going to go? What was the plan? We were homeless, jobless parents of two beautiful boys who trusted us absolutely and we didn’t even know where we were going to sleep for the night!

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. What were we going to do?

And suddenly, out of the blue I heard a voice as undeniable as the air I was breathing. Forceful yet calm, strong and unwavering but gentle somehow, caring and kind.

But it was LOUD, sharp even, like I was being mentally shaken while being shouted at.

My mind went suddenly quiet as an overwhelming peace settled over me like a weighted blanket.

I took a breath, and then another.

I was safe. I was comforted. I was warm, healthy and whole. And I was not alone.

Your Faith Will Be Rewarded.

And I knew with an unquestionable certainty that it would be.

It was a promise that rang through my ears and echoed in my skull, repeating itself in time to the beating of my heart before sending tiny shivers down my spine.

I had goosebumps.

Ok God, I hear you. I’m listening.

The voice sounded again but softer this time, gentler, almost like he knew he had my attention and could hear him now.

Your Faith Will Be Rewarded.

I felt as if the was the sun was in the center of me, blinding and bright, shining out through me, lighting the world around me.

And as quickly as the feeling arrived, it subsided even quicker, silently melting away, leaving me heavy and hollow, feeling empty but so filled up at the same time.

Life came back into focus and I suddenly realized that Nick was still talking. He glanced over at me and must have seen something on my face because his voice slowly trailed off.

Everything is going to be okay I told him, we will get through this. Our faith will be rewarded.

Momentarily free from the panic and fear, once again I opened myself to the unknown Adventure ahead and did my best to be present in the moment.

It’s such a conflicting feeling, sort of like I’m treading water in the center of the sea with two difference currents pulling at me from opposite directions, churning the water, making it muddy so I can’t see, while spinning me around so I don’t know which direction to face to begin with.

The fear was real, but so was the awe and the amazement and the joy of driving somewhere I’d never been before. The thrill of Adventure was empowering but I was human and my thoughts have always tended towards the negative so it was hard to stay in the moment, hard to revel in the beauty when at the back of my mind the panic lurked, waiting for a window to open somewhere.

But I knew down to my bones that the voice I had heard did not come from me, I knew the message was true and there was so much comfort in the knowledge that we were on the right road, that this was all for a reason and I had to learn to live with the uncertainty that lay before us.

There’s a lesson to be learned in everything and this was no different.

Quiet now, teacher is talking.

Life is a highway, or at least it felt like OUR life was a highway because the road just went on and on with no end in sight and I wondered if we were trapped in driving purgatory, destined to follow the endless yellow line for eternity.

It was a beautiful drive though, and it kept our minds mostly occupied by all the ooh-ing and ah-ing we were doing, pointing out the incredible passing landscape to the boys.

It felt like life was taunting us though, when we passed signs for Zion National Park.

Closed.

The cruel teasing happened again just miles down the road when we saw signs for Bryce Canyon National Park.

You guessed it, also closed.

It was torture knowing we had the freedom to follow the road wherever it took us only to find everything closed down.

Just like Arizona, I thought I could lose myself in Utah with its brilliant rock landscape but it would have to wait for another time, perhaps another life.

The guilt after remembering why everything was closed was like a slap to the face because the reality was that while we were complaining over closed recreational sites and a failed adventure, people were out there dying by the thousands as the world battled the ongoing pandemic.

Perspective is such a hard thing to keep.

It started snowing on us and the further we drove, the thicker the white patches on the ground became. We were suddenly driving through a white tunnel, surrounded by frosted fields with giant flakes raining down from the sky.

But with the snow flying at our windshield, it felt like we were traveling at warp speed down the highway which tricked our minds into believing we were moving faster than we were in reality.

At long last we found the end of the seemingly endless drive in the form of Bear Valley RV which would be home for the night.

Located just outside of Panguitch Utah in a small valley surrounded by of a series of mountain ranges, the RV park came at the perfect time because we were starting to get desperate having driven much further than planned due to the lack of overnight accommodations.

Hours before we had passed a few boondocking sites but the turn off roads were directly off highway 89 on the downhill side. The dirt roads were narrow, rutted and disappeared into thick trees where we couldn’t see what lay in wait so we had kept driving hoping for a better option.

According to Google maps, the drive from Flagstaff to the RV park was approximately 4 hours and 46 minutes.

In much slower travel trailer time, including the Walmart pitstop back in Paige and countless others, we had been on the road for close to 7 hours by the time we pulled into the parking lot.

We were exhausted in so many ways, but so grateful that we were done for the day and could finally rest.

I went inside to pay for the night and got the scoop for all the amenities that were available to us, the most notable of those being an on site shower facility.

Life Elevated indeed!

The RV park was basically a huge, wide open gravel parking lot with some thirty odd pull through RV sites.

We found our site quickly and parked Little Geo heaving a collective sigh of relief.

The sky was big and blue and the sun beamed down on us completely at odds with the frigid temperature. We were in a valley of sorts, surrounded by snow covered mountains that loomed larger than life in the distance.

The artic wind pulled at our clothes looking for weak points in our layers as it bit at our skin, chilling us to the bone in minutes while we scrambled to get all of the RV hookups connected.

After being cooped up for so long we decided to brave the dropping temperature to explore our surroundings a little more before bed.

Atlas and Fenix especially loved the giant dinosaur out front where the RV park sign was so we walked closer to check it out and discovered a small playground near the back of the office building and it was game over after that.

With some serious energy to burn, the boys appeared to be immune to the biting wind as they climbed the play structure over and over, going up and down the slide too many times to count.

Eventually we talked them into defrosting their frigid digits inside the small general store that was inside the office building.

We poked around the small store which was filled with little touristy trinkets and some basic grocery supplies before ending our tour in the large laundry room which led off to separate his/hers shower rooms.

It had already been decided that going to bed with clean bodies after a couple days without a shower was a must do item on our list of things to do before we went to sleep so we headed back to Little Geo where we could divide and conquer.

I stayed with the boys as they ate dinner while Nick headed for the showers first. I was starting to second guess my desire to get clean when I watched Nick walk back to Little Geo hunched over, bracing against the wind as it tried to freeze his wet hair.

In the end, desire won over the threat of turning into a human popsicle so I gathered my things and made the long trek across the parking lot, gravel crunching beneath my feet.

They had given us the door codes to get into the shower faculties after hours and I gratefully slid through the door and into the warm building.

The shower room was very clean which was a welcome sight, but it was very unusual in its layout. I had expected typical campground style shower stalls but instead found one big room with a series of household type shower/tub enclosures, laid out end to end, three on each side, complete with fabric shower curtains.

It was an unexpected sight, and one I’d never seen before but the most important thing was the fact that they were sparkling clean and I was not.

The feel of the warm water cascading down my back while the layers of dirt washed down the drain erased any previous thoughts of what a bizarre showering experience it was.

Toweling off as best I could, I dressed behind one of the curtained off changing rooms and left the fogged up humid bathroom to brave the icy wind one last time before bed.

Wet hair, don’t care! Totally worth it!

The rest of the night was mostly uneventful and Atlas and Fenix went to bed without much fuss but as we lay in the darkness waiting for sleep a tell tale whine sounded softly from the floor below.

With no lights nearby, it was pitch black outside and if the sound of the wind whistling past our trailer was any indication, I knew that the temperature outside had only dropped further since the last time I had braved the elements.

My hair was wet, I was warm, snuggled beneath layers of blankets and the idea of having to leash the dog to take him on a walk where he was guaranteed to dilly dally, sniffing every rock and grain of sand before finally choosing his sacred pooping ground did NOT sound like a fun idea.

But Crixus meant business, in the most literal sense too, and would not be ignored.

Beyond frustrated that he wanted out for what felt like the fifth time in the last hour, I jumped out of bed, slammed the door open and sent Crixus out into that goodnight, sans leash.

Go, be free now. I’m going back to bed.

Nick, being the more level headed of the two of us, whisper shouted his outraged disbelief that I would just let Crixus out like that as he took my place by the freezing cold door, trying to spot our roaming doggo while he explored the dark night unaccompanied.

Crixus is very much a velcro dog and I knew he’d come back so I wasn’t worried in the slightest but Nick is a worrier and so he did what worriers do best. He worried.

I snickered below the blankets while Nick sent the occasional exaggerated glare my way as he quietly yelled, calling Crixus by name only to be met with the sound of the blowing night wind and a bunch of crickets, which of course only made me laugh harder.

Just when Nick was about to bundle up to go out, Crixus bounded back into the trailer, eyes bright, tongue lolling, obviously quite pleased with himself and his little nighttime pooping adventure.

After the door was locked, Nick crawled back into bed still somewhat annoyed with me for my irresponsible pet owner actions.

That happy, super dopey look on Crixus's face was enough to send us both into a fit of quiet laughter.

Nick fought the good fight but in the end, he was more amused than anything with the whole ordeal now that it was over and Crixus had returned to us just like I had promised he would.

The laughter slowly faded away and our eyes grew heavy with sleep as we quietly went over the days events and we remembered another promise that had been made today.

We knew that this life would continue to challenge us and our faith with roadblocks, chaos and uncertainty but we also knew that we were on the right road, headed in the right direction, back to where it all began.

Everything happens for a reason right?

We thought of tomorrow, wondering where the highway might take us next and as we drifted off to dreamland, we knew there was one other unspoken promise that lingered in the quiet night air.

Just down the short hallway, our little alarm clock was all snug in his bed tick-tick-ticking away, ready to rise with the sun.

Ready or not, here we come.