THE TRIP HOME
September 13 - October 2, 1999
September 13, 1999. Monday. Yellowstone National Park. Last work day.
September 14, 1999. Tuesday. Off we went. We had hooked up the trailer the previous night and before daylight, on a brisk 22 degree morning, we completed our preparations and checks. At first light, as we drove out of camp, giving three blasts of the horn to say goodbye to our coworkers. Due to construction south of Jackson Hole, we headed for the West Yellowstone exit out of the park. This took us across some of the best geyser basins in the park. In the early morning freezing air, the rising sun put on a spectacular show on the numerous columns of geyser steam. It was a great last view of the park. After breakfast in West Yellowstone, we drove southwest into Idaho and down a long valley into Utah. Provo was the perfect place to check into a wonderful RV park after a long day's drive.
September 15, 1999. Wednesday. Driving southeast out of the Great Salt Lake Basin, we climbed and climbed mostly in second gear through a narrow mountain canyon. The railroad running next to the highway was the first railway to cross the continent. The scenery was dramatic, one mountain vista after another. By late morning we arrived at our destination, Moab, Utah.
Moab is strung out in a valley with the Colorado River flowing through it. The town is every outdoor person's dream. Outfitters of every type operate here: kayakers, cross country skiers, backpackers, mountaineers, and most of all, mountain bikers. Moab is the only gateway city for Arches National Park and Canyon Lands National Park. Since the parks have almost no infrastructure, Moab has the motels, campgrounds, RV parks, and restaurants to support the tourists going to the parks. A very large visitor's center in the heart of the town is run for the National Park Service, the National Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management, and state agencies. We spent the day seeing the countryside around the town (with the parks reserved for tomorrow). From the edge of town we rode a ski lift (a ski lift with no slopes) out of the canyon to the top of the mountain. From here we could see the entire Moab Valley and the Colorado River Canyon. Across the valley the setting sun was illuminating strange structures on top of the opposite mountain that was in Arches National Park.
September 16, 1999. Thursday. After having read Edward Abbey's book Desert Solitaire, I had an almost burning desire to see Arches. And, what a sight it was. Not massive like Yellowstone, but simple. One road in and the same road out. From the entrance in the valley, the road went up several switch backs to the top of a red, desert plateau. Here were the most amazing formations, strange forms that stood hundreds of feet high, straight up, flat on top. Thousands of years of erosion had caused the formations to have holes in them forming arches. One structure looked like a huge courthouse in the desert and was named "The Courthouse".
In the afternoon we were off to nearby Canyon Lands. This park was huge with most of it inaccessible by car. You can canoe across the Green River and travel by foot into The Maze, which requires several days to see. Since we were doing the detestable act of "driving through", we drove the only road in the park atop a plateau with many overlooks to see the canyons cut by the Green River and the Colorado River as they approached their confluence. What wonderful sites! Since we had spent months in Big Bend and Yellowstone, looking down our noses at tourists who drove through the parks on day trips, we justified our brief visit by calling it an overview to be used to plan a real trip next year.
September 17, 1999. Friday. As we set out, climbing out of the Moab Valley and across high desert terrain, our destination was Albuquerque. But, as we approached Grants, New Mexico, I could not resist the magical pull of El Malpais. We had visited El Malpais, badlands of lava flow, last year. I had hiked into the badlands and explored a cave of lava tubes. I just had to see it again. After checking into an RV park, we drove twenty miles south to the visitor's center where we were informed that the road to the entrance required four wheel drive because of recent rains. What a disappointment!
September 18, 1999. Saturday. We drove the short distance to Albuquerque and checked into a KOA RV park. We were at my cousins house in time for lunch. We even stayed for supper on the patio. Suda and Doug are wonderful hosts. They had prepared the meals in advance so that we could visit. After dinner Doug put a fire in the fire pit so that we could sit outside sipping wine and star gazing. From their backyard we could see the gondola going up and down to the Sandia Mountain peak. The desert air in September at that elevation is perfect.
September 19, 1999. Sunday. After climbing over the Sandia Mountains, we had our last mountain climb behind us. It is generally flat going from now on. By the time we entered Texas, we were crossing huge fields of cotton and milo on the High Plain. After a long day's drive we stopped short of our destination for the night in Sweetwater, Texas. When we were eating at a local restaurant, we knew we were in Texas because there were pictures and posters of the football team, the Mustangs. The school colors and mustang pictures were everywhere. The waitress complained that the team was not on a winning streak.
September 20, 1999. Monday. The short drive to Comanche brought us to Mother's backyard in time for lunch. At last we began to feel as if the trip was almost over. We had departed Comanche on the 14th of June and it was good to be back.
September 21, 1999. Tuesday. With my pockets heavy with a fat checkbook, we drove over to Stevenville to see my nephew who is the sales manager for the Ford dealer. Soon we were the owners of a shiny new truck, F250, 3/4 ton, V10 engine, white to match the trailer, complete with a little back seat and CD player.
September 24, 1999. Friday. Comanche. I drove Mother to see the doctor for results from her biopsy--Bad News, malignant. A mastectomy was scheduled. My brother came and we were off to a homecoming football game where we had gone to school and played football, Mullin, Texas, population 190. Nothing had changed in the 39 years since I graduated. They still play six man football. The stands were full of people I knew. At half time former students were called out on the field in groups by decades. First the graduates for the 1990's, then the 1980's, and so on, with one little old lady representing the 1920's. Earl and I were from the 1960's. The nostalgia was waist deep.
September 25, 1999. Saturday. Earl and I had breakfast with one of my classmates, Kurt, at his place of business. Then we were off to a class reunion in Mullin. Class reunions are held by decades so this reunion included anyone who graduated in the 1960's. The classes were all small, the largest class was 16 and the smallest graduating class had 8 students. We didn't have a good turnout, less than 30 people were present. Over lunch we rehashed old escapes: dumping an outhouse in Clide Green's service station drive, Earl riding through the halls of the high school on a motorcycle just missing the superintendent, the basketball game that we showed up with just six players and finished with four players. We remembered those that were no longer among the living and paid tribute to our teachers. The nostalgia was neck deep.
September 29, 1999. Wednesday. Mother was admitted to the hospital for surgery. By 10:00 o'clock, ten of us had assembled at the hospital, but Mother was just standing by for the surgeon to call her in. Finally they took her into the operating room, and we went to Garza's Mexican Restaurant for lunch. Some time after 3:00 the surgeon came out to tell us that the operation went well and out they wheeled her to her room. She looked good and was talking. After giving her "best wishes" we went home to let her get some rest. Compounding the problem of caring for Mother, is Bud, her 90 year old husband, and his poor condition. Mother had been helping him get dressed each morning, bathing him, and preparing his meals. Arrangements had to be made to take care of Bud. To make matters worst, Mother said she would not be able to even sleep with him during her convalescence. In the previous week, I had concluded that one of them must go to the rest home for at least two weeks while one of the sisters lived in to care for, preferably, Mother. Each one of them said the other one should be the one to go, and finally they arrived at a consensus that neither of them would go. So here we had two people that would require extensive care and bed rest in a tiny two bedroom house, and they couldn't even sleep together. To solve the problem, it was decided that since my sister, Rosa, lived alone next door, she would take Mother into her house during convalescence. My sister, Martha, agreed to stay with Bud. Does that solve the problem? Maybe short term!
Will we ever make it to Corpus????
September 30, 1999. Thursday. Mother is in excellent spirits and doing great in the hospital. She will come home tomorrow.
October 2, 1999. Saturday. Drove from Comanche to Corpus Christi. Arrived home in the middle of the afternoon. At last our long adventure is over. We left Corpus on the 9th of June and now we're glad to be back. We have lots to do. We want to keep the new truck and one car in the garage so we will build a storage building and move lots of clutter from the garage. And, of course, we will be planning our next trip.