by BJ Beauchamp
Of all the places I've known, being on the road usually equates to an adventure of some kind for me.
The Hell Run
It’s called a hell run because it is a trip you never want to take. Hell runs are always last minute, at least 500 miles away, and cheaper to drive to than fly. Sadly they are also always about someone being sick, dying or dead (why there is no scheduling).
My job on this type of trip is as chauffeur, bellhop, gofer, server, sometimes kitchen help and in general emotional support and grief counselor.
I can say with absolutely no ego involved that I can drive straight through from Anaheim, California to Grand Junction, Colorado, as well as to Salt Lake City, Utah, with only breaks for stretching the legs, using the facilities and filling the car up with gas. When driving straight through one usually arrives with a wild look in the eyes, coffee breath, and wrinkled clothes. For a funeral in San Francisco a few years back the hell run was a same day roundtrip. I also received a speeding ticket in Merced County and was clocked at 94 miles an hour (good that I’d hit the breaks or would have been much higher).
Usually the driving on the road part is far more enjoyable as it is time spent with my mom and includes noting landscape oddities, pretty skylines, stupid drivers, laughter, misty eyes, and Elvis Presley singing. I should also point out that I am the driver because I get car sick if I am a passenger (no, it’s not a control thing).
The Vacation
Travel of the past included taking the whole family and the dogs in a 26 foot recreational vehicle pulling a Jeep. You just can’t picture strange until you see nine Chihuahuas and three humans pile out of an RV at a Wal-Mart – chaos!
We have taken the RV up the California coast where one should never take an RV as it clearly posts nothing longer than 30 feet is allowed. This particular place was on Highway 1 north of the Hearst Castle (San Simeon) and south of Big Sur — 72 miles of white-knuckle driving going up, down, and curling around the cliffs of the coast. At one point the outside (southbound) lane had collapsed into the Pacific Ocean below so the northbound lane was then turned into a one way and you had to sit on your side of the event and wait for the southbound side to pass before you could go north. Have I told you I was afraid of heights?
There is a barely paved road heading out to Petaca, New Mexico (settled in 1836) which is only wide enough for two small cars to pass each other let alone one very large RV going in any direction. I do believe there was a tree branch which was taken out. It wasn’t a planned event; just this particular big branch grew in the way of the road. I don’t even know what road it was, just somewhere off Rd 519. Did I mention there were rattlesnakes?
In 2003 Interstate 70 which runs from Utah to Maryland was the path we took from Utah to Colorado. Right before our arrival to the Vail area the road collapsed into the culvert below creating a sinkhole.
http://www.nytimes.com/2003/06/03/us/sinkhole-closes-section-of-a-colorado-interstate.html
We in our big RV and other high profile and heavy vehicles were sent onto a road which was never meant for such vehicles to travel — the US 24 which leads to a former railroad station town called Minturn.
http://www.minturnsaloon.com/map-n-directions.html
I’ll just say that was more white-knuckle driving, and there is nothing like a big semi-tractor trailer rig coming towards you with the side of the mountain jetting out which would knock off the top four feet of the big rig so it has to come out to your side of the road, so you swerve off to the right except there is no right, just a straight drop down (Vail’s elevation is 8,220 feet and Minturn’s is 7,800 feet). We lived through that obviously. Once we got to Leadville we took a turn and went up towards Copper Mountain which reconnects to the I-70.
Between Leadville and Copper Mountain is a mine called Climax which sits along the Continental Divide (elevation 11,360 feet). That is pretty country up there and cold no matter what time of year. It also made for some slow driving up that mountain as the RV isn’t a diesel “pusher” rather has the engine in the front and it just chugged along at about 25 miles per hour. At that speed I was able to enjoy the scenery, and elevation.
In 2004 we took the RV out to Colorado again and this time an overpass fell onto the road below with tragic consequences. Again I-70 was closed to us, but this time it happened in Golden so the drive wasn’t as much of an adventure.
After Colorado we set out for Iowa. Up to that time I’d never traveled east of Colorado so it was all brand new territory and all very pretty. Lots of agriculture and irrigating and John Deere are seen everywhere in this part of the country. We stopped along the way and sampled everything everyone had – food especially. Nebraska is a very flat state as its trees and hills are just so small.
Once we got to Omaha, Nebraska and I started looking for Warren Buffett’s house… not really. What I did notice was that everything (this was spring) was so green and there was no irrigating of crops going on. Once we crossed over into Iowa it was clear there was no water shortage there (EVER) as there were lots of big trees, creeks and rivers. In Iowa I saw my first firefly. Correction: fireflies. Scared the crap out of me as I thought at this rest stop there was something creepy with yellow eyes out there in the field watching us. (This is why I should write horror movies as my mind simply goes there without any help.) Fireflies! So cool.
There is a lot to see in Iowa such as the birthplace of John Wayne, a Dutch community, windmills, and the world’s largest truck stop. Thanks to my dad I now know how to tell the difference just by the silos on a farm if they have cows, hogs or corn. I also now know what the soybean crop looks like.
Iowa is a wonderful place to be in during a national holiday. We were there on Memorial weekend and it just made you smile from ear-to-ear to see all the quaint towns decked out in the patriotic colors. Ducking tornados was a bit dicey, but it did make for an adventure. We stayed at an RV park along the Mississippi River but got kicked out when the river came up and over its bank and flooded the RV campsite. I saw my first wild turkey there as well, and both my dad and I swear we saw an itty bitty gator on the road (dead), but everyone tells us that was not possible. Bugs are definitely bigger in Iowa and big ticks and many dogs don’t mix.
The Reunions
All about food and family. I like them very much. Sadly not too many of the younger generations have been attending. There have been essentially three reunions of family that I was invited to (could be more I suppose…). Years ago there was one in Denver and another in Salida, Colorado around 2003. The last one was in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Family reunions are always interesting, but I can’t write about that stuff if I want to continue being a member of the tribe. Seriously interesting stuff, but they’d hurt me, besides as the bartender in New Mexico told us, “Only witches come out of Petaca.”
I can only hope all future places on and off road and will be filled with friends and family, good food and a bit of adventure.