The Promised Land
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Mount Rushmore is just okay. I said it. If you’re in the area, make the stop. But in my opinion, it’s not worth an extra trip. We realized we were passing close to it so we took a detour on our way to Grand Tetons. At least the pictures came out nice.
Grand Tetons, on the other hand, is well worth the journey. The massive peaks, colorfully named by French fur trappers for looking like breasts, are awe-inspiring. It’s also possible to see herds of buffalo roaming the grounds. Buffalo spotting became a major pastime in our car. My boys would shout out, “Buffalo, where are you?” on repeat. Apparently, that’s the most effective way to call to them. When we did finally see a few, I thought their little heads might explode with excitement.
Instead of camping, we rented a cabin between Yellowstone and Grand Tetons in Wyoming so we could access both parks. There was no cell service or Wi-Fi there and we had the cabin three nights. To keep the tots entertained without screens—something we had been relying on—we got creative. Aside from playing with every toy we brought and acquired along the way, we endeavored to spend as little time in the cabin as possible. That meant long days driving through both parks and stopping to explore.
Our first day in Tetons we took the boys for a couple of short “hikes” and ate at a lodge in the park. We found out later that we were there at the same time as Gabby Petito, the young woman who was later murdered nearby… That eerie fact sent me to my camera roll searching for clues, but all I found were scenic views and familiar smiling faces.
The next day we spent in Yellowstone, mostly hiking stroller-friendly paved or paneled routes around Old Faithful. My youngest took a spill early on and we thought he might need another trip to the emergency room, but he cheered up quickly and was off and running again in no time. My oldest ran up to each new geyser and lied on his belly on the boardwalk to stare at it as closely as he could, fascinated. To top it off, a buffalo wandered by.
Leaving Wyoming, we were all pretty ready to get to California where my family lives. We were also pretty done with camping. The R-Pod felt too cramped and previous mishaps had us feeling like hotels were the way to go for the rest of the trip. While it was a little disappointing to alter plans, it also felt like the right decision, and we only had a two more nights on the road before reaching California. If we could get there.
California was burning. A lot. My mom started sending me daily updates about the Dixie and Caldor fires, including which highways were open and if the winds were blowing their way. Two days before we were set to arrive, a new, small fire started very close to their home and they were put under evacuation warning. My parents gathered the things that couldn’t be replaced and prepared to evacuate if things got worse.
Thankfully, things didn’t get worse for them. That fire was contained, and they didn’t evacuate. We had to drive in a wide arc to get to them though to avoid road closures. The smokey air through Sacramento was otherworldly. I’d always assumed we would settle in California after my husband finished his Navy career, but the frequency and severity of annual fires has me wondering if that will be an option, even though I love the Golden State.
Once in California, we dropped the kids with my parents and ran. Our initial plan had been to spend a few days in South Lake Tahoe, but South Lake Tahoe was also on fire. Instead, we pivoted to Sonoma (I know, tragic), and spent three lovely days reconnecting, drinking wine, eating spectacular food and enjoying a little time without diapers and tantrums. In short, it was pure bliss.
We spent a few more days in California with my parents, sister and her family. I hadn’t seen my nieces or brother-in-law since before the pandemic. It felt so darn good to see and hug my family after so long. Like everyone, I hope to have more of that in my life.
In the past, when I’ve visited my family mid-PCS, the parting was hard. I have always moved to the opposite coast or the middle of the Pacific. This is the first time in nine years we’re in the same time zone. We’re finally living close enough we can plan visits without months of lead time. There’s something hopeful in that.
It took two days to drive up to Washington, and again we opted for hotels. Even though we stayed in more hotels than we’d planned, I don’t regret buying the R-Pod. It was an adventure, and one I’m confident we’ll recount for years to come. We got to have an experience as a family that many people never get.
When we did finally get to our new home, Murphy’s Law struck again: the driveway was too steep to park the R-Pod in without hitting the bottom of the trailer. We parked it up the street at the top of a steep hill next to the high school where teenagers regularly drive by with no good alternate place to store it. So, if anyone knows someone in the Pacific Northwest looking to buy a well-maintained, lightweight travel trailer, please send them my way…