I have been creating this post in my head for a month, so it's time to put it on "paper", so to speak
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The Setting: In February, I went on a little adventure with my parents and my youngest daughter as we headed over to the Front Range for my nephew's wedding. Darian and his bride-to-be decided to get married on February 23 (a Tuesday), so that meant taking a couple of personal days at work and coordinating travel plans with Kelli and my mom and dad. Yes, we were nervous about the weather. And our fears were well founded--there was a large, brutal storm that hit the state days before our planned departure. It triggered a rock slide that damaged the highway between Grand Junction and Denver, which led to highway closures during the day and a one-lane pilot car-led route that only operated after 9 p.m. So we had to decide which detour to take...the southern route, over Monarch Pass and then up, or the northern route--a long U-shaped trip north to Craig and Steamboat, then back down to I-70 at Wolcott and east. Our cast of characters included:
My mom: Bound and determined to get there for this grandson's wedding, since she missed my son's wedding 12 years ago because of winter storms.
My dad: Absolutely dead-set against going, not because of family, but because he hates the Front Range and hates long driving trips. Not to mention the weather.
Kelli: Our chauffeur. She and Darian are the cousins who are closest in age, so it was important for her to be there. She offered to drive and take their truck.
Me: I, too, was bound and determined to go. Darian is my oldest nephew, this was the first big family wedding for my sister's kids, and I wanted to be a part of it!
Things weren't looking good. By the night before departure, after much discussion and repeated visits to cotrip.org, we decided to brave the southern route--meaning that Kelli would pick up Grandma and Grandpa, come down to Montrose to get me, and off we would go. But more weather was expected overnight, so even then, plans were not set in stone.
Tuesday morning, I was up even earlier than I normally am for work, to once again check the road reports for both detour options. Monarch Pass was horrid--I'm grateful for those cameras on the web site! I called my mom and Kelli and said that we needed to take the northern route, which meant that I was going to have to get up, get ready and head up to Jct. so we could leave from there. When I arrived at my parents', the mood was, shall we say, less than festive. The Grand valley itself was socked in with gray, threatening clouds, and my dad was no better. He was still trying to convince my mom to change her mind, but it wasn't happening. I told him that we were going no matter what, so, while mumbling that, if Mom wasn't going to change her mind, he might as well go too, he climbed aboard. I offered a prayer--something the Mahans always do before road trips, even the sunny and clear ones. And off we went.
Trail Mix: We were definitely on a tight schedule, since the detour would mean that the normally 4 hour trip would take over 7. The wedding was at 6 p.m., and we left Junction before 9:30 a.m. Dad had made some trail mix for the ride, so we could snack and not have to make extra pit stops for food. Good thing, cuz we still had to make a few potty stops. It's what happens when you get old--our driver was probably the only one who could have made it the whole way without a bathroom break! Anyway, the trail mix provided the first of many fun stories shared during our journey--Dad recalled a time when he and my brother, Dan, who was about 13, were headed out on a hunting trip. Dad had made trail mix, and offered it to him as they drove. When he went to have some a bit later, the mix was missing every single M & M--and nothing else! Kelli said, "Isn't that what trail mix is? M & M's with obstacles?" -- and we were on our way!
Detours: Prayer WORKS, people!! By the time we were out of DeBeque Canyon and headed toward Rifle, where we would need to turn north, the sun was out and the roads were clear. And folks, they STAYED dry and clear the ENTIRE way. Yes, the snow in the fields on either side of the road was piled so high that you could barely see the tops of fence posts, but the sun shone and all clouds were light and thin. My dad was VERY happy to be oh, so wrong...but then, we all were!
Poor Kelli, though...she had no recollection of EVER driving this route before--and in truth, she only had been this way one time, many years ago, when we had to take this detour at Thanksgiving because a boulder put a hole through the highway. Deja vu--but she was young and not paying attention. This time, as the driver, she had to. But she didn't know where she was going, and had no familiar landmarks to help her mark the journey, so it felt like we were going into the middle of nowhere, sssllllloooooooooooowwwllllyyyy. When we got up to Craig, ready to turn east toward Steamboat, there was a sign that said that Baggs was only 55 miles away, and I joked that we could just keep going for an hour and visit Wyoming. Kelli was shocked---"WYOMING?! How far north ARE we???" Poor kid! Add that on top of the responsibility she felt for getting her grandparents safely to that wedding, and it was a little stressful for her! She was a trouper, though, and received the ultimate compliment from her Grandpa--he was so impressed with her driving that he told her he was going to hire her to drive him on any future long trips! At least the drive back home the next day was a little better--she had a better idea of just how long (and how far) the trip would be, and we weren't on QUITE as tight of a time schedule. I say 'quite', because she had to be back to her school by 3:30 for an event...which meant that we were loaded up into the truck and headed out of the motel parking lot at 6:30 a.m. the morning after the wedding!
Family: ...makes it all worth it. It took 7.5 hours to get to our destination, but we talked, Dad told stories, we listened to music, snacked on trail mix and did a fair amount of laughing! We got to the motel in plenty of time to check in, catch our breath, and change clothes for the wedding. Then we hit our biggest snag....that annoying Siri, or Google maps, or whatever it was on Kelli's phone, took us way too far north from the wedding site! After all that traveling, we ended up being almost a half hour late, and they held up the wedding just for us. My sweet daughter lost it, blurting out "What the hell!!" as she hung another u-turn to get us into the event center's parking lot. (That was a highlight for my father--his sweet Mormon granddaughter succumbing to such foul language!) Yes, my own son got married in that same spot 12 years ago, but things have built up in that area a LOT since then, and we got lost! All's well that ends well, thankfully--it was a sweet ceremony, and made even sweeter because we were all together! 5 of my 6 kids were able to attend, and watching my parents soaking it all up was SO worth it! They got up and "won" the couples dance, as they were the last on the floor because they had been married longer than anyone else in the room! Dad had a sweet daddy/daughter dance with the MOG, my sister Cathy (who looked like Cinderella in her gorgeous mother-of-the-groom dress!). I didn't join them because of my cane and because it was her moment. We soaked in a couple of hours of quality, chaotic, fun family time, and then headed back to the hotel for well-earned sleep!! It is going to mean so much that Mom and Dad are in those wedding photos. For all of us.
Detours, Take 2: As I said before, the return trip was a little less stressful now that we were a bit more familiar with the route. We saw deer, elk, turkeys and sheep along the way. We marveled at the acres and acres of pure, untouched snow that stretched over wide fields and up beautiful mountainsides. We shared memories, talked about other trips my parents had taken up that way (hunting trips and vacations), and laughed at the F. M. Light and Sons signs that appeared in both directions for miles on either side of Steamboat. Dad said that they've been up for 30 years or more...apparently quite the western wear/outdoor supply standard for that area! Kelli said that it sounded like the kind of place she could take Tyler to...and that he'd never leave! More music - Kelli's Pandora station was on a roll, playing lots of great old classics that all the generations in the car could enjoy - and then Dad and I singing a rousing chorus of "The Tattooed Lady", which had us all in fits of laughter! (If I can find it on youtube, I'll attach it--it's an old folk song sung by the original Kingston Trio that I grew up listening to in Michigan.) I gotta tell you, though, we all breathed a sigh of relief when we were finally back on I-70, headed west from Rifle to the Grand Valley. I noted that this was the first trip I've taken with BOTH my parents since our last family vacation, which happened in the summer of 1978. We drove to FL that year to go to Disney World and Busch Gardens. I got married the next summer, and that was that.
Conclusion: I wouldn't take away one minute of this tumultuous trip. It is now a memory that I will treasure always. I hope Kelli feels that way, too....what an opportunity to spend some close, intimate time with her grandparents. They are terrific people, and to have the chance to share this adventure with them was worth every mile. Two crazy, long, wonderful days. I'll always be thankful for them. And I'll always smile when I pick out the M & M's from the trail mix.
"The Tattooed Lady" by the Kingston Trio
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