Trip: Day Five

We knew the plans we started out with were ambitious for this day. We were to break camp, head out over Trail Ridge (including construction delays) with few stops built in including the store at the top, down the back side, hook up with I-70 before the Eisenhower Tunnel so Steve could show Maria what he'd helped build many years ago, get off at Glenwood Springs and head down to Redstone to our next campground. It's not so much the number of miles, but the slowness of most of them.

The plans got changed even before the trip started: Steve got an invitation for us to join cousins of his for dinner ("barbeque") in Basalt along the way, just a few miles of detour and a few hours extra.

It started well enough. My internal alarm clock works well, and sunshine is its trigger. Once out of camp, we were starting up Trail Ridge and enjoying - if that can be the word - the marvelous vistas dropping off below us. The "dropping off" part tends to give me the willies more and more as I get older, since I want to look as well as drive at the same time. I compromised with the pullouts for photo ops, telling myself that I've seen the scenery before. We did manage to miss the pullout where the pikas can be seen, but we'd just stopped and time was pushing me onward.

Luckily the construction delays weren't all that bad, since the early hour meant that not too many vehicles had started up from the western side yet to wait behind the flagmen in long lines, making our lines go quite quickly. In fact we barely had time to get the cameras out for the great bull elk showing off his velvety rack in the perfect spot for a great shot while we sat behind the flagman.

Pulling into a handicap parking spot at the visitors center was the last moment of peace we'd have for hours on this day. I reached for my purse for a little tourist shopping and...

It wasn't there. OK, so somebody please hand me it from the overhead bin? Not there either!

If ever there is a time to panic this is it: just a few days into the trip, hundreds of dollars cash and three credit cards inside, my driver's license, and - because I never misplace it - Social Security numbers for the family where I can reach them when I need them. I just knew it had been stolen at some point when we'd been away from the RV for a few minutes. It could have happened any time in the last couple days, with my not needing to spend a cent even on gas the whole time since the stop at the HQ Visitors Center. Everybody pitched in looking for it, with no luck. I asked Paul did he have enough credit to cover the remainder of the trip so we could finish it, and he said it did. That was just a teeny weenie comfort at that point. After everybody looking everywhere, my churning guts informed me that I was staring at a restroom sign and by golly I better get out and use it NOW!

Returning to the RV, and still no sign of it, I headed into the Visitor's Center to see if they had any kind of phone so I could see if I'd managed to leave it behind when I'd bought the hat and postcards. Yes they did, sort of, but it was next door. By the time I reached there, my knees rebelled and I sat for a few moments. That's when I met Ranger Greg.

I must have looked absolutely sick, since he came right over asking was I all right? I understood the question since lots of folks get altitude sickness at around 12,000 feet, and assured him that physically I was fine. However, I explained the situation and asked was there a way to find out if we needed to head back the way we'd come to pick up a left-behind pocketbook?

Well, the answer was kinda yes, kinda no. It's a technology problem. On top of Trail Ridge they have to rely on satellite phone. Sounds easy enough, until you realize that it's a communication that's on for about 20 minutes, off for about 20 minutes, on for.... When it's in off mode, there's a radio system that works in multiple relays going down and ditto coming back up again. It all worked like this:

First, the sat phone called the HQ visitors Center store, where they had not seen my pocketbook. Nevermind the confusion about him misunderstanding when I actually might have lost it. Once that confusion was cleared up, Ranger Greg realized he'd have to contact the park's Lost and Found instead to ask his question. Now, however, the sat phone was down, so on to the walkie-talkies. He asked the next guy, who asked the next guy (this much we could hear) who asked the next guy, who asked.... There would be a wait for whatever answer came to be relayed back up to us, one person at a time. One sincerely hoped it wouldn't be like that school game of telephone where garbles multiplied by the number of relays until the answer came back that the fish fry was being held at Aunt Bertha's house.

While we waited, Ranger Greg had me fill out a lost and found report, and assured me that whatever was located would be returned intact to my specified next location. Since that was a moving target, I specified home. He in turn suggested I call to verify whether or not it turned up in the next few days. I was completely pessimistic, sure that I'd been robbed. It was the only answer that made sense to me. He advised me that when I arrived at the next town, I stop in at the police station and fill out a report, then get busy notifying credit card companies, the drivers licence folks in case somebody got picked up using mine, and all the other little things one needs to do in such a situation. Once our answer came back in the negative from the walkie talkie relay system, we left, busy figuring out how to get all the information I needed to accomplish what I needed. It was enough to thoroughly spoil my appreciation of the magnificent scenery on the way down the western side, so thoroughly steeped was I in my problems.

It didn't last long. There was a distraction.

Several turns down from the top, Paul pulled us over on a long stretch where there was a relatively straight and level spot to pull over. He needed a long spot. We had nearly no brakes!

Never, never ask yourself what else can go wrong! An answer will always come to you.

We got out, inspected break lines for leaks (none), located the brake fluid reservoir (one of those old double-lump-top metal things with a metal wire/handle that pulls over it to hold it down, hard), and found it was full. The thing had made a funny noise when Paul pulled it out of park and into drive last time, and he feared something had broken and was interfering with the braking system.

Have you maybe noticed that by this point we just weren't trusting the mechanical integrity of this old machine?

Since we were on a long pull-out with a gradual slope, he warned us he was going to pop it into neutral and once it started moving, test the emergency brake. After all, we were on our own here, no cell contact, no traffic yet, no help for miles and miles. I was just telling him that nobody (except me) ever maintains or repairs emergency brakes, when he checked it and it worked! At last we had some hopes of making it down from the mountain OK, perhaps keeping it in 1st gear and using the emergency brake as need. Of course, 4-way flashers going the whole time.

Now all this while we were worrying about the brakes, there was another something going on in the back of the RV. Steve had made a comment earlier, and it was circling around in Maria's head, triggering a very dim memory. He'd commented that when Maria hid something, it would take a miracle to find it. Maria was already struggling with the idea that maybe she'd had something to do with the disappearance of my pocketbook, but she just didn't know/remember what. And the thing had been searched thoroughly. She asked if it would be OK if she tried again, as long as we were just parked. It was the "take a miracle" that finally triggered it for her, and within five minutes, she emerged with my pocketbook in her hand!

Whew! She earned herself a huge hug! Now, if we could just survive the trip down the mountain, I'd have some money to spend, and need waste no time with police reports or canceling cards or any of that other stuff! We did have a discussion of what each other meant when the phrase "hide it" was used. To me, it meant "in my usual place right there." To Maria it meant "hide it so well it would take a miracle for a thief to find it." So she had.

OK, everybody buckle in tight and prepare for what could literally be the ride of your life. Paul eased it into 1st gear, did a little preliminary pumping on the regular brakes, and...

What's this? Brake pressure again? From pumping the brakes the old-fashioned way? Yeee-haaaa, ready to rock and roll! Let's head ourselves down a mountain, folks, and start enjoying our vacation!

(We figured that an air bubble must have lodged in just the wrong place in the brake lines, expanded at the high altitude, and vanished with the pumping. Whatever. It was cured.)

Of course, the emotional roller coaster I'd just been on sent me straight to the bathroom, with apologies to my traveling mates. Some things the digestive system just isn't meant to handle, and yesterday's food on top of all that stress was over my limit. I spent a good part of the rest of the ride down stuck in there, because just when I was ready to emerge, we'd hit construction, and the ride was too bumpy to do anything but hang on to the sink and ride it out. Everybody else thought it was hilarious, of course, and I guess with the plethora of good news, I didn't really mind being the butt of some jokes.

So to speak.

The rest of the day was smooth driving, especially after we hit the freeway heading towards Glenwood Springs. The canyon was gorgeous, and once we turned south towards Carbondale, views of Mt. Sopris kept us entertained. This was both Steve's and his sister Sylvia's favorite mountain, according to Steve. We were favorably impressed.

We connected with his family in this area (look for the red pickup at either mile marker 17 or 18, and follow it to the house), and were treated to a wonderful "barbeque" dinner. I put that in quotes, because to me, it's barbeque if it's a meat covered in barbeque sauce. Apparently in this part of the country it means meat cooked on the gas grill, and tonight it was a choice between brats and steaks. And of course, fruit salad, corn on the cob, raw veggies plate, chips, and lemonade tea, followed by ice cream and strawberries for dessert - unless that was the next night's dessert. I may be confused here.

Much reminiscing was going on, but not so much that Paul and I felt excluded. The family were great storytellers. Still, I was starting to chomp at the bit before we left. We still had a 20-something mile drive to our campground and set-up to do, and I wanted it all done before dark. This was an electric site, but I still wanted to be done by dark. This night I was tired!

Redstone Campground was pretty easy to find, following directions on the website. (I'd printed them out for all our sites before we left.) We followed the Crystal River up through a beautiful red rock canyon - hence the name - until we were there, and all along the way were looking for just the right place for scattering Sylvia's ashes the next day. This became too much for Maria, who was suddenly reminded of why we picked this stop in our itinerary, and jarringly reminded how much she missed her aunt, currently riding in a box in one of the RV's cupboards. We had always referred to the box as "Sylvia" and not "Sylvia's ashes", technically more correct. It just made her more a part of this venture. By the time we reached the campground, Maria was crying and needed some time alone before she was able to help with set-up.

It turned out that the delay gave us all time to do something important: change our site. Our original site was diagonally opposite the bath house, all the way across the campground. We were able to switch for the handicap site, not reserved until the following evening. As it happened it was a blessing for more than the obvious reason. The RV wasn't done playing with us yet.

As the sun was kissing the tops of the red cliffs behind us a sweet good-night, we plugged into the electrical outlet, fully expecting to now have interior lighting, the ability to charge electronics, etc. Yeah, right. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Darkness all the way. We still had flashlights for setting up for the night, which we made good use of. We also had the light from the showers/bathroom building, but with a modest hitch. The external light was motion- activated, and lasted for nearly a minute at a time.

You'd be amazed how fast that passes when you are trying to put up a tent, find sleeping bags, PJs, and all the other little things one must do before sleep.

One of the most important of those was catching a shower, something missing from the daily routine now for over three days. I must say the facilities at this place were great: clean, neat, accessible, close, and abundantly full of hot water, however skeptical we were of the latter upon hearing they were solar showers. They were not, however, wasteful of their energy supply, for heat or light. The showers turned off by themselves unless you pushed in the button again: no biggie. What I didn't count on was the motion sensor light in the shower, activated as you entered. Of course, what you entered was a combined toilet/dressing/shower room, laid out in a string of cubicles, all private behind a single door. The light was over the toilet. So was the motion sensor. By the time you undressed and got halfway through your shower, the light went off. This meant you left the shower, walked back to the toilet area, waved your arms to activate the light again, and returned to your shower.

Twice.

But dang! it felt good.