So-o-o Not The Vacation We Planned

There's an old saying, in many versions, from many cultures: "When Man plans, the Gods laugh."

Chapter One: Wyoming

Everything started out exactly as planned. We made Kearney, NE the first night, Rock Springs, WY the second, staying in motels that were adequate or better. Having gotten updated information that Greys River Road, heading up out of Alpine, WY, was in driveable condition rather than rutted and washed out in multiple places as we'd earlier been informed, we continued with our original plan of heading up to a favorite campground from past trips.

There came the first change in plans, albeit a minor one. Steve decided heading way up while sitting on the side of the car next to the drop off was not quite his cup of tea anymore, so we found a safe place for a u-turn and headed back to a flat meadow/parking place next to the river across from where a smaller stream dumped into it over a steady fall over rapids. Picturesque, close to town, all-night lullaby from the water. It was completely undeveloped for camping but open for it since this was national forest land and the spot fit the regulations for dispersed camping. We came prepared with all our supplies for the situation, and considered ourselves lucky to have the site to ourselves. Having been along this road before, this was both of our second choices to stop. Free for 9 nights.

Setting up the tent(s) was going to be easy. After finding a site that wasn't sloped or worn down to rocks, we started. Staking went relatively well, though there was one stake that only went in halfway. It didn't look to be a problem, since all the rest were well anchored. By this time, we were pretty beat, so unfolding the chairs for use was done.

Twenty minutes later we got the poles out and figured out which pieces went where.  Now we had practiced this a couple times before leaving with Richard's assistance and oversight. It had gone well. Of course, back in Minnesota there weren't high winds channeling down the canyon trying to set everything airborne, fighting the angle each pole needed to go to support the whole structure. This is one of those tents where all poles must be in place for any stability. After setting the rain fly under something heavy to keep it on site while we worked, it only took us two tries to get the tent itself up. Of course, more and longer pauses to sit were interspersed in the process. And since the center pole couldn't be set all the way up until after the rain fly was pulled over it, due to its height and our lack of it, we had to bring the whole structure down when the center top pole separated.

In the flap-everything wind, we had problems fitting the rain fly over the tent, even to the point of second-guessing ourselves as to which way was long or short, further delaying final pole positioning. The hooks holding the corners were on elastic that had lost some of their stretch, failing to hold it in place. So repeat, repeat, repeat. Once the center of the tent was tied off to the center poles, things fit better, but it still took extra tiedowns fastening the rain fly to the tent stakes to finish the job.

You know, I'm certain, that it was about this time the wind started to die down. Just started, but the rain fly finally quit trying to. Fly, that is.

The first of three tents was up. We were ready to quit, but the tent giving privacy to our bucket toilet still needed to be erected. Luckily it was spring mounted, the kind you fold in circles to put away, and only needed a site found and stakes pounded in. Then tiedowns got attached to those same stakes to hold the top of this skinny tent straight before we could put in the bucket, set its liner in, and dig out a roll of TP, set inside a plastic bag to keep it dry. Our pauses were getting longer between steps, but this had to be finished even after exhaustion set in.

Our last must-do was inflating our  air beds (powered by the car, not human lungs), bringing in sleeping bags and pillows, and hauling in clothes. By then we both were too tired to even think about supper, simple as MREs are, and we crashed before the sky got dark. The third tent, a screen house we'd planned to sit inside while relaxing and reading, was left on the ground in its case for the night. In fact, we never did find the energy to open and stake that last tent.

You'd think a good night's sleep would refresh us. Turns out there were a couple issues. Back when the car was getting packed, we had help bringing supplies up from the basement. We never questioned the sleeping bag that was brought up for me. Big mistake. It was one with zippers up both sides which slid down with every wiggle or breath. Not only was the air cold, our airbeds had no insulation so they sucked the heat out of us from the bottom too. Having the surface flocked only managed to catch on the sleeping bags and hold them where they were even when you wanted to move. Down again on the zippers.

Cold as it was, I put on sweats over my PJs and tried to get back in. The zippers were even less cooperative. I gave up, finally, and crawled in the other bed with Steve, aka Mr. Furnace. The beds were only full sized. While spooning was fine in one direction, warming me partly up, when we needed to roll over, my center of gravity was now hanging off the mattress and nearly dumped me on the floor. I gave up and moved to the one place I knew I could both sleep and be warm: the car, with the engine running intermittently.

I did manage something of a night's sleep. Steve was quite cozy where he was.

The second day of camping we broke out the first of the MREs. For each of us, one package lasted the whole day, separated into three meals. Flavor: mostly OK. Texture, particularly of bread products... well, lets just say they could use all the help they could get from either spreadable cheese or PB&J.

The toilet worked just as it should, with just two minor problems. It was too low to the ground. After all, it was a standard 5 gallon bucket with a seat and lid. Had it been last summer, my new knees would never have allowed it. Because some idiot designed the doorway to its tent to only open up to a height of about four feet, with a bottom lip sticking up six inches, it was always a job bending down while lifting your feet up and over without tripping. Then you had to manage clothing, sit way down, somehow all in time for what was necessary.

Exiting was a process as well, first maneuvering off the seat enough to actually use the TP, though never quite reaching everything you wanted to, then leaning forward to stand up to re-dress without losing your balance. And don't forget to shut the lid, after sprinkling a little clumping cat litter over the bottom of the bucket, just in case it wasn't spillproof as desired, nor you as graceful. Then there was still the bend and step high technique, nothing to hang on to for stability. After that, pausing to rezip the door closed was nothing.

The whole process was work! As if we weren't tired enough already. It was to be avoided as much as possible.

That's one of the things that made leaving camp for town so attractive. (Hey! Real toilets!) First was a shopping trip. Daylight had revealed that not only was my sleeping bag too small for someone who had left "skinny" behind decades ago, but it was only rated for 60 degrees. Sixty! That was about enough for a comfy afternoon nap!

We used an Alpine gas station to dump our bag of garbage and ask how to locate a sporting goods store. Luckily, there was one in town. Luckier still, it's last two sleeping bags were our size (Steve decided to get another and join his together) and rated for 30 degrees. In conversation with the store owner we got an interesting, and discouraging, piece of information. All the TV news interviewees who were asked where to plan for eclipse watching by reason of likely clear skies had pointed to Jackson Hole and surrounding area as a top spot. The theory was the clouds would somehow stay on the west side of the mountains for the first part of the day, not slipping over to the eastern side until afternoon.

It made sense at the time. Apparently 12,000 other people thought so too, since that was the expected crowd size into the area. However, as a native, he had better information. With just a little push from climate change, this had become the time of year when the winds moving weather fronts around were sliding south, and this was their exact boundary site. It was colder (yep) and cloudier (yep) than just a couple weeks before, so the odds of a good view were slim.

Dang!

On the plus side, he pointed out directions to a car dealership where we could get our tires tested, filled, and fixed or replaced as necessary. My flat tire light had just shown up that morning. They were still good enough for a short drive to town. But in the middle of nowhere in a car that was sold without a jack or a spare, I was not about to mess around. Luckily, for the three of them which were a bit low, the air top-up was enough to eliminate the warning light. Better yet, little wait,  no charge! To date, no more leaks either.

Once our local errands were run, we decided to head up to Jackson Hole to scout out the traffic and likely spots to legally stop for a bit to experience the eclipse. Our campsite was a few miles outside totality, and I wanted to get the full experience. The road into town from the south was under construction, giving us a lot more stop than go. Having finally navigated that, crossing town to my top choice for eclipse viewing, the Elk Refuge, we had to stop and wait at every intersection for either a light, pedestrians crossing, or both. I had kind of planned for that, but Steve absolutely hated the whole trip, wanting almost any other spot for The Day Of.

The Elk Refuge was lovely, huge meadows across the valley and climbing in swaths up into the trees on the mountains. Or hills. Your perspective changes with the Tetons in the background. There were no elk to be seen that afternoon, but several parking pullouts along the way gave us choices of where to stop for our lunch and just enjoy the scenery.

While having supper that evening, we watched a family of four, two of them preschoolers, playing baseball across the road from  us. Their noise and activity was not enough, surprisingly, to prevent a mother and baby elk from ambling across a clearing between pine trees about a hundred feet behind them. Seeing no elk at the refuge, we were doubly delighted.

Our plan for the next day, or one soon, was to take the road up into the eclipse zone on the Idaho side, checking its feasibility for viewing and pictures. Meanwhile we anticipated a much nicer night of sleep than the previous one. This was the night it rained through the rain fly, only on my side of course, and I found out that the new sleeping bag was a better fit but I still wasn't warm enough. Back to the car.

We woke to wet clothes, wet tent floor, wet bed (mine only), wet sleeping bag corner, and the canvas chair left outside doing an efficient job of holding puddles both in its curved seat and cup holder. After doing the possible to assist drying over the course of the day, I dug out the camera to get a couple dozen shots of fog trailing downhill along the tips of the mountains we were nested in.

Steve took the one dry chair, the one we'd brought into the tent overnight, and tried fishing in the stream we camped next to. After losing a couple of spinners on the over-abundance of rocks under water, he decided to head down into Star Valley to the Salt River,  a slow stream where people swore they were catching trout. After a quick stop to shoot ospreys in a pole nest box, we found a public access with a gentle slope from a nice parking spot to where he could set up a chair while fishing. I stayed in the car, alternately reading my Kindle and looking at how he was doing.

While no trout were caught, Steve did hook the biggest catches of the day. The first was the bridge over his stream. The second was his pants. I may never have known about the latter, but he hollered at me to bring the nail clipper from the car so he could cut himself loose. On my short way back to the car, I had to stop a couple of times, panting. I couldn't catch my breath.

I was fine when he gave up and returned to the car. We decided to head back to camp, taking advantage of a roadside rest stop along the way. By the time I got back to the car I was again out of breath. For both of us, this was a last straw. With minimum discussion, we both agreed to break camp and head to a motel on lower ground, the operating theory at the time being altitude sickness, despite camping only around 6,000 feet, much lower than I've been at other times with no effect, including Trail Ridge Road which pushes 12,000 feet.

While I drove back to camp, and he still had cell coverage, Steve called the local forestry office, explained that we had a medical emergency, would return to camp only to clear out our personal effects, and apologized for leaving behind our tents on the site. When they offered to watch our abandoned camp until we could return for the tents, he flatly stated we'd not be back. Donate the tents to anybody who could use them, a scout troop, Goodwill, whatever.

Once there, I mostly sat on the now dry chair and he started bringing stuff to the car. When he noticed a group of teenage kayakers loading up to leave after coming down the river, he walked over and asked for a few minutes of their help. Within ten minutes our car was loaded as full as it could be. I mostly suggested how to load, like laying sleeping bags flat since they knew nothing about rolling them up, and flattening them for more room by loading heavy stuff like the MREs on top of them. Some clothes came out of the tent still wet. We didn't care. The car was loaded in minutes, the kids thanked, and there was one single chore to do before we cleared out. That bag inside the pail potty was removed, sealed up, and carried on the floor of the front seat till we hit the trashcan at that same gas station. This time I decided I'd even pay for some gas, despite that they were by far the most expensive in town, not to mention the whole trip. I figured I owed them.

Five minutes later Wyoming was behind us.