We set off in one last road trip in the Cavalier, certain it would be it's last. If ever a car were tired, the cavalier was. The clutch was winding down, getting ready to fall out, humming loudly in neutral and grinding in between 4th and 5th. Nevertheless, we took her on one last voyage as a tribute to a car that had transported me safely across the greater portion of the US more than a few times.
We packed up all of our car camping gear, left the kitties in safe hands, and set off with George to camp for a week. We had set Mirror Lake in Utah as our original destination, but set off with little direction otherwise.
Having been the product of a parent that had extensively explored and fell in love with the west, I was fortunate. My dad ran away at 14, hitchhiked across the country, and ended up living in a hippie community in Bolinas, CA. Between voyages to and from Colorado, my dad ended up exploring much of the west, from the painted deserts in California and Nevada, to the temperate rainforests of northern Washington. His love of the west was passed down to me, via many summer trips. We sped across Monument Valley, blaring Johnny Clegg or William Topley, undertaking new and interesting adventures with our German Shepherd, Lex. We explored abandoned mine shafts in the most uninhabited parts of the Utah desert. We storm chased and watched the purple lightening of southern Colorado and northern New Mexico. We went to almost every national park within a few states of home. I had seen a great deal of the west on my own, leaving home for a few months at 19 to undertake a 7,800 mile road trip.
My husband had experienced none of these things, and instead had traveled Europe and China with his more traditional family. He hadn't camped hardly at all; he didn't even know how to start a campfire! Needless to say, I was excited to take him on a new kind of adventure, and he was just as excited to hand his comfort and care (a very trusting gesture) over to me in order to try something different.
We threw George in the car, and left early in the morning, heading North on I-25 towards the Wyoming border. We drove to Casper, and decided to head to Boysen State park to camp for the night after seeing some postcards for it at the gas station. We headed west, arriving in the hottest part of the afternoon. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the part of the park we elected to camp in was totally deserted, there wasn't anyone for miles. We had the entire lakefront to ourselves; it was paradise. We setup camp and took late afternoon walk; George weaved circles around us, pausing to inhale the sweet perfume of sage and chasing the occasional cricket. We enjoyed a spectacular sunset over the reservoir and a can of soup before hitting the sack in a tent for only the second time in our relationship.
We awoke, made coffee, and talked about plans. We decided to hang around Boysen for a few days, since camping was free and George was happy. We spent the day hiking around the desert, enjoying the cactus flowers and rolling hills. For me, there is something spiritual about the desert. For some, it may just be drab, hot, and lifeless, but I enjoy the quiet solitude I always find there. I've always been fascinated with how life in the desert finds a way, no matter how remote or crazy it seems.
We spent a few days hanging around, hiking near the Wind River Canyon, swimming or napping outside under the shade of the cottonwood trees in the hot afternoons. We didn't see another human being for days, it was paradise.
After a few days, we decided to change course and go see the Grand Tetons. We drove through desert canyons, the iron-rich rock staining them shades of orange and red that seemed impossible. We passed through the prairie into almost electric-green forests.
We had hoped that being the middle of the week, Teton NP would be less busy. Unfortunately, not only was it packed, camping in the park was overcrowded, and George couldn't hike with us on any of the trails. Coming from solitude and unleashed freedom for the dog, the volume of people in the park was disheartening. However, it was incredible beautiful and I'm glad for the time we had there. We had planned to stay in Tetons for a few days, but ended up only staying 2 because it didn't seem fair to George to keep him tied up or in the car while we were out hiking.
We enjoyed some awe-inspiring hikes in the backcountry, and managed to find a few places where we were alone.
We packed up and headed for Mirror Lake, grateful to get out of the park traffic and away from the masses of people. We ate breakfast in Jackson, and headed south, prepared for the long 8 hour drive ahead of us. As we pulled in late in the afternoon, we realized we were almost the only people camping near the lake. While we were setting up camp, we turned to look at the lake and saw our first moose in the wild--an incredibly disarming experience. To see such an animal at the distance we were to it was less frightening than awe inspiring, but we backed off to give her some space nonetheless. The hike we took afterwards was incredible. The water was so clear and pristine you could see rainbow trout swimming near the bottom of the lake.
The hike we took the next day was one of the most memorable of my life; we walked through emerald green meadows full of wildflowers, past countless crystal clear ponds, in an area untouched by pine beetle kill. The backcountry there was completely untouched, we hiked 8 miles and never saw another human being, it was incredible.
Unfortunately, when we returned to our campsite, we found it totally inundated and overrun with people. It was the night before the 4th of July, and camper after camper pulled in. The idea of experiencing the Teton NP masses again was so unappealing, we decided to pack up and head home a few days early. We felt like we had accomplished what we set out to do; we had succeeded in realigning ourselves with the outdoor spirit, and felt relaxed enough to call it a closed chapter and head home.
