The Road Goes Ever On And On
Chapter Eleven
Much like the morning before, we woke to freezing temperatures and thanked our lucky stars for working propane heaters because we were toasty warm inside Little Geo.
We didn’t realize just how accustomed we’d become to the hot, dry California climate during our two week long stay until after trying to adjust to the winter like temperatures in Utah which came as quit the shock to our system.
Opening the door on the trailer and walking out into the frost bitten morning felt a little like we’d gone from C.S. Lewis’ wardrobe in the spare room and straight into to Narnia.
The snow on the neighboring mountains didn’t lie, it was COLD and the wind had fangs that bit unmercifully as it hungrily fed off our body heat.
In just one day we’d gone from sandals, shorts and t-shirts to pants, down jackets and winter hats. It was quite the adjustment as we packed away the lighter clothes in favor of a more appropriating winter wardrobe.
The chill in the air was slow to fade, even as the sun rose higher in the sky but our RV park check out time was fast approaching so we were forced to brave the elements as we dumped Little Geo's tanks before refilling our fresh water reserve.
After we checked that off the list, we went on a rather unusual scavenger hunt as we attempted to find Crixus’ middle of the night emergency poop from the night before.
I was still laughing about Nick’s reaction when I had let the dog out in the darkest of nights to take care of business on his own. What? Don’t judge me, it was COLD and DARK out there. And anyways, we were doing the responsible pet owner thing by stomping around trying to locate said doggy indiscretion the morning after so all was forgiven.
Except…
In the end, it was Nick who found it, making him the winner of the grand prize which came in the from of a frozen solid, leaning tower of dog deuce.
Of course, that only amplified Nick’s mock outage while simultaneously making the already hilarious situation even more comical to me and I dissolved into a fit of laughter which naturally only earned me more of that mock outrage.
Dividing and conquering once again, we went in shifts, taking advantage of the unusual showers once last time while Atlas and Fenix played at the playground, burning off some energy in the glacial mountain air before we loaded up to continue the trek north.
After pulling away from the Bear Valley RV park, we headed west on Utah State Route 20, aiming for the I15 North which would take us to our next destination.
Salt Lake City.
We had decided the night before that since everything was closed due to Covid-19 we could at least drive by the State Capitol building so Atlas could check that off his list.
But since we were towing Little Geo which made us a whopping 36 feet long end to end, we did not feel brave enough to attempt the drive around the city while towing, so despite not needing hookups, we were headed to another RV park for the night.
The drive would take us somewhere between 4 to 5 hours travel trailer time and then we would check in, drop Little Geo and take the Pilot to play drive by tourist around the city instead.
Much like the day before, it was a whole lot of driving, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and pointing as we took in the beautiful mountain landscape around us.
And like we had come to expect, everything visit-worthy was closed so we just followed the road, stopping occasionally only to stretch our legs.
It was hard seeing all the beautiful scenery because you just know that it’s filled with amazing places to explore but Covid-19 had shut the world down, effectively tying our hands, ensuring there would be no detours for us.
Still, we soaked in the snow peaked mountains and rolling grass prairies with wide eyes knowing someday we’d have to return to do some proper exploring to give this stunning area the attention it demanded.
Just outside Payson Utah the reasonable two lane freeway added a third lane which could only mean we were getting closer to our destination, but like Bilbo Baggins once sang, “the road goes ever on and on” and us along with it, leaving us to wonder if we’d ever make it through the sprawling city in one day.
By the time we passed through Spanish Fork there were four lanes and after Provo, we were suddenly driving on a very busy five lane interstate traveling considerably slower than the posted 70 mile an hour speed limit.
Sixty miles per hour was about the max we could go while towing Little Geo, anything faster made driving pretty scary because the trailer would wobble and sway from the force of the wind, shaking the wheel of the car in an almost violent manner.
So there we were, driving 58 in a 70, surrounded by race car drivers (or so it felt) and enormous trucks which gave us vivid flashbacks of a few very close calls going through Bakersfield and San Bernardino just a few weeks before.
I’ve never been a confident driver, even in the best of situations, and having kids only amplified my anxiety because hello, precious cargo on board, and people driving by like maniacs absolutely cannot be trusted to keep my best interests in mind.
Traveling nearly 60 miles an hour surrounded by impulsive humans who have to make split second decisions while driving at dangerous speeds among other humans who are trying to do the same filled me with a nearly crippling anxiety as they all weaved in and around us, flying down the freeway without a care in the world.
To make matters worse, most of the roadway was under construction (sans workers or signs of course) so the lines on the road were faded in some areas to the point where you couldn’t see which lane was which, and worse yet, in some sections the lines were gone altogether, making it a terrifying game of I hope I’m in my lane driving roulette.
Thankfully for me, Nick was behind the wheel, navigating through the worst of it and I’ve never been more grateful for his confidence behind the wheel than I was right then.
Don’t get me wrong, towing a new travel trailer in five lanes of 70 mile an hour traffic was not easy on Nick’s nerves at all, but he handled far better than I would have and we sailed through in one piece, or two technically, since Little Geo was connected at the hitch.
At last, we finally took exit 118 off the terrifying stretch of race track and we crossed two sets of light rail tracks before finally reaching our destination.
Nick parked in one of the check in lanes while I ran inside to pay for our site and get the lay of the land.
Last we’d heard, Utah wasn’t cracking down on the pandemic as hard as California had been but as I walked into the small office building I was faced with the first real evidence of what panic can do to a person who is trying to survive in a world filled with rumor and uncertainty.
Behind the counter, the front desk worker was a mass of nervous energy, compulsively wiping down countertops, pens and clipboards, their eyes flittering about the room, not lingering too long on any one object, including me, as if staring would be an invitation for the virus to infect them.
Respectfully, I kept my distance, nobody knew how the virus was transmitted after all, but more than that, I didn’t want to add to the fear that was etched across their face, filling in the worry lines that I was sure had become deeper that week alone.
They took my credit card nervously between thumb and forefinger, carefully holding it away from their body as if it were a snake waiting to bite, and reluctantly charged my card for our one night stay.
Not surprisingly, they told me that all community spaces, which included a pool, hot tub and playground were closed and that we were requested to not use the onsite bathroom facilities which sadly included the showers.
It seemed a little absurd that we were paying close to $70 for a concrete pad with only electricity but desperate times call for desperate measures I guess.
With a map and directions to said concrete pad for the night, I walked back to Nick who was waiting in the Pilot with the boys and we drove around the nice, somewhat crowded RV park to find our spot.
A lot of RV Parks are designed with maximum capacity in mind, not privacy, so when we reached home for the night, we were pleasantly surprised to find that we were the last site at the end. Being at the end of the row meant that we had a tiny bit more privacy than the average camper because instead of being sandwiched in the middle somewhere, we only had one neighbor to our left.
After boondocking at so many spectacular places and staying at mostly empty RV Parks on the way to Salt Lake City, this spot felt pretty claustrophobic since were were mere feet from our singular neighbor. Plus, I was still feeling rather unsettled by the paranoia I witnessed in the office during check in.
The dark sky above us had been swirling ominously all morning and just minutes after unhitching Little Geo as we finished our RV set up check list, the clouds cracked open and fat raindrops started to fall from the sky.
Talk about perfect timing!
We had made good time on the drive up despite the insane traffic so by the time we unhitched Little Geo and pulled up directions to the Capitol Building, it was barely three in the afternoon.
We found out pretty quickly that we had made the right call to drop Little Geo for the drive to the Capitol when the road narrowed significantly and then we started driving up and up and up.
It gave a whole new meaning to the word Capitol Hill because the building was indeed sitting on the top of a hill with a pretty spectacular view of the snowy mountains and downtown Salt Lake City below.
I don’t know what we were expecting exactly, but seeing that massive structure sitting there so stately and tall with majestic snowy mountains as the backdrop, came as a big shock and we immediately started kicking ourselves for not stopping at the Capitols in California or Arizona.
With everything going on, the thought honestly hadn’t crossed our minds at the time so we mentally added those stops to our growing list of places to return to and turned our focus to the present, pointing out the beautiful sights to Atlas and Fenix.
We hadn’t planned to stop and get out initially, but it was too beautiful not to explore further and since it was outside anyway, it seemed like a safe enough idea so we found a place to park and waited for the rain to let up a little.
It wasn’t long before we caught a small break from slight drizzle, we unloaded the boys from their car seats, leaving Crixus to hold down the car and then we headed for the massive staircase, Atlas practically dancing across the street from excitement.
Up close, the edifice was larger than life and its impressive white granite exterior beamed brilliantly in the afternoon sun as the dark rain clouds parted, revealing blue skies above.
We walked around the exterior, our eyes struggling to take in the grandeur before us. The details in the architecture alone were mind blowing and that didn’t even take into the account the location or the impressive views surrounding the building itself.
It was over the top and it definitely made a statement, as I’m sure was intended.
The Capitol grounds were expertly manicured, the green grass perfectly mowed and edged with a multitude of plant life thriving in their strategically planted locations.
On the South side of the building, there was a gravel walkway lined with Yoshino cherry trees which were mostly bare, covered in tiny buds that quivered the frigid temperatures of the newborn spring season.
Atlas and Fenix couldn’t get enough of the tree lined path and we stayed there for a long time watching their boundless energy and carefree exuberance, listening to the sounds of their wild giggling and gravel crunching as tiny feet danced down the path and back again.
Eventually they traded gravel for grass and gleefully raced around the massive lawn which enabled us to breathe a collective sigh of relief because Fenix, while only a year old, was determined and unstoppable, despite his wobbly legs. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when, he would fall down and now the grass would offer more protection and a much softer landing.
The snow covered Wasatch and Oquirrh Mountains bordered the Capitol to the south which completed the perfectly picturesque, almost magical location.
Crixus was anxiously waiting when we got back to the Pilot, his enormous furry body shaking the car with his excited wiggles as he happily welcomed us back under his watchful protection.
Wanting to take advantage of our much more reasonable vehicle length, we decided to drive around the city to take in a few more the sights before we picked up dinner and headed back to Little Geo for the night. It was getting closer to rush hour, so we limited our explorations to the immediate downtown area, staying close to the Capitol building.
We had hoped to see The Great Salt Lake but from what we could tell, the only real access point was off the I80 at the Great Salt Lake State Park, which, you guessed it, was closed due to the pandemic.
As a secondary option, we thought we’d just drive by and see it from the road but since the lake itself had receded back so far, visibility would be limited from the freeway so we decided to scrap that idea and instead added it to our growing list of places to come back and visit later.
So close, and yet… So far.
It was disappointing that we couldn’t do more but at the end of the day we had so much to be thankful for, our continued good health topping the list.
After picking up burgers and fries for a quick and easy dinner we drove back to the KOA just as the sun started dipping lower in the sky.
Learning from my mistake the night before, after we finished eating, I leashed Crixus to take him out one last time before we turned in for the night and walked him to the small fenced in dog area that was located close to our site.
I checked to make sure there were not other dogs before opening the double gates and releasing Crixus, giving him the freedom to explore. He ran around eagerly, tail held high, his nose close to the artificial turf ground, trying to absorb every scent possible while I kept a watchful eye on the gate.
At age four, Crixus may be 95 pounds of pure goofy puppy love but when it comes to other dogs, due to a very unfortunate violent encounter years before, he couldn’t be trusted, especially when leashed.
Once upon a time, way back when we were brand new dog parents and our big red dog was a small black puppy just about 3 months old, we were walking around the neighborhood doing some basic leash training when out of the blue an off leash dog charged us, aggressively barking and biting at Crixus right in the middle of the street.
Our poor little puppy was absolutely terrified, trying in vain to get as far away as the leash would allow. Eventually it became clear that the only way to protect him was to pick him up because the attacking dog just would not stop coming. The owners uselessly called its name over and over, unapologetically watching from a distance as their dog tried to maul ours. For obvious reasons, the encounter still plagues him and us to this day.
As a result, Crixus has become what they call “leash reactive” and despite our best efforts to train it out of him, he will still aggressively defend his personal space when leashed, especially when his family is nearby and rightfully so.
We are very careful to keep our distance from other dogs as a precautionary measure and lucky for me, no other dogs showed up during Crixus’s free time so after I cleaned up his natural contribution to the artificial ground, I leashed him up once again and we headed back to Little Geo for the night.
Tonight would make our second and final night in Utah and it felt both amazing and panic inducing knowing we had just one state left before we reached Oregon again.
But the message from the day before still lingered strong in our minds which helped calm any spikes of uncertainty.
We were getting better at this trust thing!
The pandemic didn’t appear to be improving any, if anything, it only continued to get worse, the whispers and rumors spreading into an unstoppable wildly contagious form of hysteria. If the virus didn’t get you, the paranoia almost certainly would.
We were still somewhat isolated from all the madness, traveling north in our little bubble, theoretically safer than the average person but we couldn’t help but wonder what we’d do once we finished the drive back to where it all began.
After a month of constantly moving around, we’d suddenly be stationary and in this fast moving world with the quickly spreading virus, that felt like more of a threat than anything else.
Still, it wasn’t like we had a lot of options and honestly, despite being technically homeless, we were being welcomed “home” to Nick’s childhood home of all places and there was quite a bit of comfort in that knowledge.
But we weren’t there yet, that was days and a whole state away. For now, we were doing our best to roll with the punches, taking it one day at a time and trying in earnest to not succumb to the panic of the insane life situation we had found ourselves in.
Like before, it was easier and far less stressful to focus on achieving micro goals in the present.
Today we had reached Salt Lake City and had a tiny adventure exploring the Capitol which had been invigorating after the seemingly endless, no detours allowed road trip north.
It was the little victories that gave us the fuel to continue on and it felt inspiring to see all these new places even if we couldn’t explore them further.
Yet anyway.
It had taken awhile, too long probably, but we were slowly starting to figure out that it wasn’t just about the destination or the plan, it was more about the journey with the people that were most important to us and the places we saw along the way.
Together.
We were building lasting impressions here, even if it wasn’t exactly what we planned or even hoped for, we were creating memories all the same and despite all the chaos, there was something magical about the mystery of an unplanned adventure.
Well, it couldn’t get more unplanned than this!
But every day we were adapting quicker, easier, yielding to the pressures of life with less resistance than the day before and that was an empowering feeling.
We were slowly becoming comfortable with being uncomfortable, discovering that not only could we survive, we could thrive which made the unreachable suddenly feel achievable.
If we could do this, we could do anything!
Each new day meant that we’d begin again, perhaps a little more prepared than the day before, heading out into that unknown and tomorrow would be no different.
It was after all, another day, the road would go ever onward and there was no knowing where we might be swept off to next.
