Monday, May 18, 2015

A Thief Among Us

I have read more blog articles than I can count regarding travelers' experiencing theft on the road.  Usually it's some far of country and I sit behind my screen, soaking up their misery vicariously and shaming their offender in my mind.  I was niave really, not to think something like this could and would effect us locally.

A week ago Thursday, my purse and phone were stolen from the front seat of my car.  I have so many feelings even now ranging from anger to relief and everything in between.  We're definitely not in Concho anymore.  We were spoiled with living in the middle of no where.  The probability of our car being broken into while we lived in Arizona was miniscle if any.  There we lived on gated land.  I can count on one hand the times "visitors" actually drove through the gate.  Field mice were the biggest threat.  We definitely became more aware of leaving food in the car.  Heck, when we lived in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, we rarely locked our doors.

This particular afternoon, I was enlisted to pick up a client's 10 year old from school.  They also have 1 1/2 year old twins.  Having 3 kids under 3 in car seats is hecktic on a good day.  As I pulled into the "car rider" line an hour long hail storm began.  In that time that passed at least 5 inches of hail accumlated on the ground.  My windshield wipers froze.  Fussy kiddos cried from the back seat.  The line crawled along.  Each time I got out to clear the windshield my feet would sink thru the slush into the ice water running beneath, drenching my shoes and socks...my clothes becoming soaked by the pelting grauple falling freakishly from the sky.  When my car actually made it to the turn into the school I was flagged down by the child's father.  Luckily, he had her in tow.  Unluckily, my pick up service had been unnecessary.
What the hail?

Though my mood was sour, my task was to get back to the client's home safely with their precious toddler cargo.  Thankful for good tires, I was able to manuver the thick slush successfully.  I credit my many, many years living through Pittsburgh winters for my "mad" weather driving skills.  Arriving to the destination unscathed, I began the tedious unloading of toddlers and car seats.  In the commotion, the car doors were left unlocked.  My purse remained unassumingly on the front passenger seat.

After about 15 minutes of filling the client in on the events of the day, I returned to my car.  I was anxious to get home and get ready for an interview with a perspective client.  Once Truman was secure in his car seat, I settled into the driver's seat and reached over into my purse to grab my phone.  I had wanted to let Brian know we were on our way.  My hand fell through the air to the seat below and in that moment I realized my purse was gone.

I didn't instantly assume the worst.  I went back to the client's door and asked if I might have left my purse inside.  I checked in the garage by the kids' car seats.  It was when I had searched all the usual suspects with no avail that panic began to set in.  I wasn't particularly worried about fraudulent spending, but the overwhelming thought of replacing everything from debit cards to social security cards loomed ahead of me.  And the phone calls...police, financial, verizon customer service, all of our auto debits...anxiety provoking to say the least!

I felt the call to the authorities a bit of a dead end.  My case wasn't violent or life threatening, so it wasn't a priority.  I was given the impression that any leg work would need to be done my me if I was going to recover my stolen items.  I began combing the neighbors trash cans, speaking with local business owners and checking their dumpsters.

All avenues turned up empty.  Calls to my financial institutions showed no attempted use on my cards.  Verizon assumed the suspects had turned off my phone and that is why my tracking application was not producing results.  Defeated, I gathered Truman and decided to head home.  My clients had been kind enough to replace the money in my wallet plus a little extra in exchange for future sitting, aleviating the immediate financial need.

I pulled out of their driveway and came to the intersection.  In a split second decision, I decided to search the trash cans on the next block.  A few houses from the end a neighbor was pulling out of his driveway.  He commented on my "dumpster diving" and I quickly explained about my purse.  He offered to keep a look out and then continued on his way while I continued searching garbage cans.  A few feet up he stopped and got out.  He called back to me..."It's here!"  He had found my purse and it's contents dumped in a side yard at the end of the block.

I quickly checked the items remaining.  Everything, but my phone was present and accounted for...even the money.  I recall screaming as if I had won the lottery and then hugging this kind stranger in thanks!    

The purse it self (aside from my phone) was quite possibly more valuable than all it's contents.   It was a replacement for my diaper bag that had broken a few months back, a gift from a friend.  Inside were diapers, a change of toddler clothes, and a couple of toys.  I'm hoping the theives were disappointed with their bounty and that is why they threw it away.
The infamous purse

Though the outcome was more positive than negative, I am still reliving the panic this experienced induced.  I don't think I realized how dependent I have become on my phone.  It contains my life and has been the hardest loss to overcome.  Due to it's confiscation I missed a promising interview.  I have had no response from my attempts at contacting this perspective employer. In addition, the deductible for my phone was more than anticipated and definitely outside our budget for the month of May.  Sadly, my perfectly functional phone is likely in the trash somewhere locally, unusable...Thank you, no thank you...Apple!

I wouldn't wish this experience on anyone, but if I had to be the one...I'm glad I had an amazing support system.  I can't thank my clients enough!  From phone use, to occupying Truman during my own melt down to giving us money (a portion of which I used at McDonald's for dinner, because who feels like cooking after their purse is stolen).  What a load of drama!  Grateful is an understatement!

In addition, Wells Fargo was amazing.  I was able to cancel my card and account and then reopen a new account all over the phone.  I was also able to recieve a temporary debit card from a local branch to use until my personalized replacement arrived.  Verizon's service was decent.  They were able to deactivate my phone and suspend charges on my line until the phone is replaced.  Though the experience has made me a bit skeptical about the monthly insurance plan I pay for each month.  At $10 a month over the course of 2 years, I am already shelling out $240 whether or not I ever replace my phone in that time.  When I signed up, I was advised a replacement deductible would be $99.  Verizon then stated over the phone it would be $149, while the insurance company verified their records showed a payment of $169 would be necessary to replace the phone.

I'm hoping this is the end of our string of unfortutnate events for a while.  After two weeks of illness, armegedon like weather, and then this debacle, we are ready for a break!  Fortunately, a local friend offered us a "parents day out" and we have taken her up on our offer.  Brian and I are headed out, just the two of us, on a much needed date.    

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

A Lesson in Parenting | Lantern Festival 2015

We had been waiting for months for the Lantern Festival.  Tickets purchased...check.  Meet up plans confirmed...check.  Bags packed...check.  Sick kid...wait, we didn't order a sick kid?!?

Truman woke up the day of the festival feeling...well, like crap.  We knew this because he told us over and over again.  But you see, we had these tickets.  They were bought and paid for months ago...and they weren't cheap.  We had friends from north of Denver, driving down to see us.  We treated Truman's symptoms with Tylenol and cold medicine and got him down for a nap.  We figured he would be fine after a rest...at least well enough to attend the event for about 3 hours.  There would be lots to do and see.  Live music, food, kids, and s'mores all from the comfort of his stroller.  We could do this!

We could not have been more wrong...

Just getting Truman to the car was a challenge.  He simply did not want to go.  He quite vocally expressed his desire to stay in his "choo choo bed" and watch his shows.  He struggled fiercely as I buckled him into his car seat.  Flailing and wailing in an effort to disuade our departure.  It was not his lucky day, we departed anyways.

The venue was about 30 minutes south and Truman slept the whole way.  It's like a parental amnesia kicked in during the silence...as if the previous melt down had never existed.  I started to let myself get excited.

The event was being held on the in field of a local motor speedway.  Truman woke up as we were pulling into the parking lot.  It was then the chant started...

"I want to go home...."

"I want my choo choo bed..."

"I want my show..."

This went on for the next hour.  As we stood in line to collect our lanterns and care packages, as we walked over to the in field, as we bought festival food, and as we tried to roast s'mores.  The chant excalated to a rant, getting continually louder and was then accompanied by tears.  Even in the commotion of the festivities we knew Truman was starting to effect the enjoyment of the people around us.

A woman in the concessions line politely asked if Truman struggled with sensory issues.  She wondered if maybe all the activity was too much for him.  I sheepishly replied, it was too much, but because we were pretty sure he was coming down with something.  I admitted we were selfishly hoping to ride it out because we had paid for the tickets  several months ago and had really been looking forward to being there.  She nodded and responded understandingly.  Assuring me she probably would have done the same thing.

A second mom, sitting by the fire ring we were using to roast marshmallows, asked if bubbles might make Truman feel better.  She had brought some for her own children and had an extra to spare.  I thanked her for her generosity, looking beyond her and into Brian's desperate stare.  No bubbles were going to make any of this better.  I knew it was time to go.

Truman was now crying and coughing.  I was also having difficulty with the smoke from the bonfires and torches.  It was as if I was having an allergic reaction.  My eyes would not quit watering...and they hurt.  And in that moment, we snapped out of our selfishness fog and back into reality.  A snap decision to return to the car with Truman was the best idea of the evening.  

We didn't really discuss anything, but that I would take Truman to the car.  Just knowing we were returning to the car lifted Truman's mood.  It was starting to get dark and people had begun to flood the single access to the in field that acted as both entrance and exit.  There were also two flights of stairs and just me to manuver Truman and the stroller.  I did okay getting down from the field into the tunnel.  It was a tight fit.  Those exiting were limited to walking single file.  As the exit and ascending stairs approched I began to get  a bit anxious.  And then, as if the kind stranger behind me had read my thoughts, a young man no more than 21 discontinued the discussion he was having with friends and appeared at the front of the stroller ready to help me carry it to the top.  I thanked him and then he was off, disappearing into the crowd.  

I made my way to the car and got Truman settled inside.  Knowing Brian's phone wasn't working, I texted the friend's we were with and asked if they could bring Brian home after the festival.  She said they'd take good care of him and get him home saftely.  

I don't remember the last time I'd been this excited about attending an event and yet, in that decision to go home I felt relief.  Lucky for me there are a few in every crowd that can't follow directions and a few stray lanterns found lift off while I was pulling out of the lot.  I reached for my camera, but it was dead.  What's that line..."you can't take a picture, the moment is already gone."  It wasn't the "Tangled" experience I had imagined, but with Truman comfortable and calm in the back seat I'll take what I can get.  It filled my need.  My first person experience to be forever committed to memory only.

We made it home safely and I got Truman settled in bed.  I took his temperature and found it to be unreasonably high...no wonder he was acting so miserably.  I treated the symptoms and settled him into his bed with a show.  He did not cry once he was where he had asked so desperately to be.  He knows what he wants and needs, and in the future we promise to better listeners.  I'm definitely glad it didn't take the whole evening for us to "wise up".  I wasn't too unhappy to be home either.  Once away from the smoke, my eyes stopped watering and my headache dissipated.  

Eventhough it was the best decision for me to come home, I couldn't wait until Brian arrived home as well.  I pounced on him as he walked through the front door.  He was grinning ear to ear as he tossed me the camera.  He had had a blast!  Brian was able to capture some amazing photos and video which he compiled here!

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Painted Mines Interpretive Park | Calhan, CO


This past Friday was our second visit out to the Painted Mines Interpretive Park.    Maybe you remember the controversial video from our first visit.  You know, the one where I was showing how delicate the sandstone formations are.  If you haven't seen it, you can view it here.

We arrived that day shortly before lunch, quickly threw on our gear, and hit the trailhead with ambition and intent.  I felt relaxed and in the moment.  I wanted to share what we were experiencing.  And in that moment, I uploaded what felt like a harmless post to our Facebook page.
Me, letting my hair down with a selfie!

We were well prepared (this first afternoon) with a picnic lunch, snacks, and plenty of water.  We had packed layers and sunglasses.  We were ready!  But the Interpretive Mines are located deep in the plains.  The mountains of Colorado Springs aren't even visible.  And this particular afternoon consisted of relentless winds.  Strong winds.  Winds strong enough to blow over our 3 year old (yes, the wind literally blew Truman over) and sent us running for shelter within the formations.
Nom!  Nom!  Nom!

Brian was ahead of us and Truman in the middle along a ridge trail within the park.  A huge gust of wind came through and I watched Truman's feet lift off the ground.  He then fell down and forward.  This landed him on a hillside.  A shear look of panic on his face and Brian's...and I'm sure on mine as well.  We are never far from Truman while hiking and this instance was no different.  I grabbed his hands, preventing him from slipping any further.
Brian helping Truman on a tricky part of the trail.

Brian was immediately at our side to scoop up our shaken son and swiftly checked him for injuries.  He then hiked with conviction towards the closest inlet.  He had found the perfect enclave of formations to protect us from the wind and allow us to regain our composure and have a snack.
Hiding from the wind!

Once we felt a bit closer to fine, we began the walk back towards the car.  We knew our day had met it's expiration.  The walk back was intense.  Though we had walked maybe 2 miles, we were exhausted.  Truman was content to ride in his pack, adding a 32lb disadvantage to my dragging frame.  Our feet felt like lead weights as we continued to trudge along the dense sand trails.  The head winds didn't help either.  Brian was so supportive as we hiked.  Chanting words of encouragement with every few steps.  He even offered to take Truman, the heavier of the two packs.  I brushed him off and pushed on.  Once I was able to see the car, a second wind hit and I picked up my pace.  A few minutes later we arrived at the lot.  I unloaded Truman and felt the literal weight of what we had accomplished lift off my shoulders.  I swear I heard a "choir of angels"!
Better than Geology Class!

Trail hiking provides a sense of achievement.  Setting a goal.  The physical challenge.  Mind over strength.  Not to mention the views.  Even with that scary moment with Truman, we really enjoyed ourselves that afternoon.

Still feeling the natural high that accompanies a day on the trail, we were a bit blindsided by the negative comment regarding our climbing that afternoon.  We'd never gotten a negative comment before.  Being seasoned and respectful hikers, we reponded to our concerned reader the best we could and made a decision to revisit the Paint Mines.  We wanted to give it the respect it deserved.

What we didn't realize was that first fateful visit we barely scratched the surface of complete visual spectacle this trail system has to offer.  The trail system within the park is less than 4.5 miles.  We planned to use this second visit to explore the park in it's entirity as well as record more video.

This time we picked a sunny day with little wind and fair temps.  We entered the trail the same as before, but stopping to capture video along the way.  Truman was in his own foul mood, but a promise of a picnic lunch around mile 2 kept him in check.  We arrived at our lunch destination only to realize niether of us had packed any food.  Unfortunately, a bit of miscommunication meant we were running on borrowed time.  We carried on, each bend more beautiful and brilliant in color than the last.  

The final part of the hike was an ascent up to a ridge trail that over looks the entire park.  We had finished what we had set out to do.  Once up at the top, the level ridge trail made the return to the car fairly easy.  Brian was ahead with Truman and quickly out of sight.  I lingered on that outcrop for a while, just taking it all in.  I felt really good about what we had done.  Storm clouds on the horizon and a clap of thunder brought me back to reality.  I hustled up to the ridge and made my way along the trail towards the car.  A decent and a climb near the end gives your heart one last push for good measure.  Truman and Brian cheered me on from the trail head.  We turned on the ignition just as the first rain drops began to fall.  Perfect timing!

On the drive through town we had noticed a little Mexican restaurant called La Mission Burrito.  We had promised ourselves a reward meal following our adventure.  What a great little place.  Brian and I shared a margarita on the rocks while Truman comandeered the chips and salsa.  The waitress was so accomodating...bringing us extra chips and salsa (Truman refused to share!).  The food hit the spot.  Everything tastes better after a hard day's play.  As we were leaving Truman spilled his drink all over the floor.  We asked for a mop to clean it up and our waitress did one better and cleaned it up for us with a smile!  Her tip reflected our satisfaction!  We will definitely stop again if the opportunity arises.
Clay from the mines.

After 2 trips to the Paint Mines Interpretive Park, we have put on our list of free hidden gems in Colorado Springs.  That said, we felt a few tips will help make your trips as well as our future trips a success.

Watch the weather...
We have garnered this knowledge from several experiences attempting hikes in the plains.  Winds make for difficult hiking conditions.  In addition, Spring storms are common.  There is little shelter (as you would find in a forest setting).  Ponchos or a tarp will come in handy if caught in a storm.

Pack the right gear...
We encourage packing the following: layers, ponchos, sunscreen, chapstick, snacks, water, and paper products (ie. kleenex or toilet paper).  The only facilities are at the trail head.  There is no potable water available at this trail.  

Know the terrain...
Even though the distance is relatively short, the trail itself is mostly loose sand.  It will feel very much like walking on the dry sand of any beach.  Wear supportive, comfortable shoes and be prepared for some possible leg aches.

Say cheese...
We highly recommed bringing your camera along.  The views are spectacular!

Respect the land...
Please respect this land for future visitors.  The sandstone formations are fragile and the trails make accessing them easy.  There really is no need to climb outside the lines here.  Clay deposits still exist here and it is so fun to pick up and manipulate with your hands, but please leave it and other "souvenirs" behind.  Lastly, leave no trace.  If you picnic, pack out your food and trash.  We want this to remain a treasure for years to come.




  

  

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Denver for the Day

We just got back from Denver and I'm on the patio catching the last of the day's sun.  The night air is crisp, but not too cold.  This is where my writing juices seem to flow.

We had made plans to meet up with a long time Facebook friend and fellow Lostie, Stephen.  This would be our first in person meeting.  We stopped up to our friend's apartment, but quickly realized it would be better to find a place for Truman stretch his legs.  Only there less than 10 minutes, I think Stephen's cat had a full blown panic attack from all the commotion.  Stephen recommended a nearby park and we all piled into our car for the short ride.  

We drove by the park to see if it would have the necesary amenities...mainly, did it have a playground for Truman?  It did, so we drove on to grab a picnic lunch.  The grocery store was just a few blocks away. We went in and quickly gathered the items needed for our meal.  Chicken, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, grapes, and cookies made the cut.  The big boys went to grab some beer and then it was back to claim a picnic table near the playground.  

We spent the afternoon in Cheesman Park, a location with a bit of a sorted history.  When I got home, I did a bit of research (ie. wikipedia.com).  Apparently, the land was originally allotted as a multidenominational cemetary, but by the late 1800's had fallen into disrepair.  Local developers felt the area would be better served by a community park.  Bodies were to be moved, but it is believed gravesites still exist within the park boundaries.  Today the land is prestine, a perfect combination of old growth trees and expertly manicured lawns.  Paved trails meandered throughout.

Upon our return to the park there was an open picnic table.  Truman was immediately drawn to the playground and chose to forego eating in lieu of playing for most of the afternoon.  

And here is where I need to go on a bit of a tangent...a tangent about mom's and how we treat each other...

Truman played while we ate.  Helicopter parents...we are not.  He was within view and at 3 years of age is quite self sufficient on play structures.  That is except for the swings.  Another mom and toddler had entered the play area.  The mom loaded her little one into a swing.  It was at that moment that our own little Truman, made his way over to the swings and encouraged this woman to load him as well and to push them both.  I was mortified and pleased simultaneously.  I began to rush towards the swings, but this fellow mom held up her hand and motioned me back to my lunch.  Once I'd finished my lunch, I joined this other mom at that swings.  I didn't want to abuse this priviledge she had just gifted me.  She assured me it was fine and that he had been quite charming.  We chatted comfortably.

When they left a short time later, Truman moved to join some children playing in the sand.  This time I was in the midst of two couples out for a playdate with their daughters.  The kids were playing well and the parents chatting.  I over heard the dads discussing overcoming a "WOW" addiction and I chuckled aloud.  The one mother closest to me smiled and we nodded in understanding.  Brian is a lover of online multiplayer games as well.  I knew what it was like to be a "gaming widow" from experience.  Once the connection was made, conversation flowed easily.  

Interaction after interaction continued for the remainder of the afternoon.  Dozens of families in all shapes and sizes coming together for an afternoon of pure fun in the park.  Over and over I witnessed gentle parenting and teachable moments.  Adults motivating sharing and building socialization...through demonstration.  It was a beautiful thing.

There was no "momism" to be found...at least that's what I've coined the term.  Much like racism and sexism, "momism" is very real and rampant in Colorado Springs.  I have easily made "girlfriends" in every location we have been.  Most significant friendships were cultivated in Arizona.  From playgroup mom's to co-workers to family of friends, I made a strong support network of woman that I haven't had before or since, but always desperately wanted.  I have tried several playgroups and other activities, only to remain an outsider.  I spent 2 hours one afternoon in a fast food playplace monitoring other people's children, only seeing other parents when they came to retrieve their kids...without so much as a simple hello.  And that, as a mom, can be very lonely.  On this day, it has definitely made me wish we had chosen to relocate to Denver, rather than the Springs.

We stayed this afternoon until the street lamps came on and the evening chill drove us back to the car.  Then it was time to drop Stephen off and head south towards home.  Truman was fast asleep before we even made it back to a main road.  It had been a great day.  Such a great day, that we had simply lost track of time.  The best kind of day.  And the cherry on top, we arrived home to these pictures our friend and professional photographer Stephen had snapped of us.  Perfect digital memories which capture these essence of this perfect day.       
Stephen Fry Pictures 

Friday, April 10, 2015

Trekking Across Texas | Part 2

We woke up refreshed and ready to get an early start.  Our hope was to drive during Truman's naps, limiting driving accompanied by crying to a minimum.  We could tell Truman had begun to loathe being confined to his car seat and he would wail inconsolably if contained, but not asleep.  This wasn't a limitation we had considered when embarking on this journey.  We were accustomed to busting out the miles and had assumed (albeit naively) that our ability to travel in the same fashion would continue.  Our son had loved his car seat.  It was our go to pacifier and sleep aid for those tough times all parents experience at some point or another.  "Not anymore suckers!" we felt him saying without a word.  But if parenting in this unconventional setting has taught us anything it has been remain flexibile and don't get too comfortable.

The continental breakfast was decent.  We ate quickly and grabbed some fruit and coffee for the road.  Our goal was to get to Midland, where we would look for a room for the night.  

We drove through miles of desert.  Texas was definitely making good use of wind power.  Many of these miles were lined with windmills.  At one point we stopped for a photo op with these majestic white structures.  We are suckers for alternative power.  It was also a nice opportunity to stretch our legs.  

Rest top to check out the windmills somewhere in Texas

Then it was back in the car we piled.  We had found a travel rhythm and Truman was responding positively to our adaptations.  It had been peaceful and allowed Brian and I to chat and joke in the front seats.  The mood was light and we were on target to arrive in Midland just before dinner.

We pulled into the WalMart in Midland just after 4pm local time for restrooms and wifi.  Our goal was to find lodging quickly before Truman's demeanor changed from cooing baby to demon spawn (as a result of pushing our daily drive times to the max).  

While I used the restroom, Brian used the wifi to get our bearings.  We found hotel row and drove over, relieved to be gettiing off the road for the day.  We too, had our own car bound limits.  Our mode of tranportation across the country was a Chevy HHR...only slightly larger than a PT cruiser.  Brian's 6ft frame became easily cramped after long hours on the road.  All of our remaining belongs were distributed between the pop up and the car itself.  It's a good thing none of us are claustrophobic.  

Unfortunately, a hotel room was not in our future...at least not in Midland.  I pulled in to the first hotel, a Hampton Inn and at the front desk requested a room.  The quote was just shy of $250.  While I was busy lifting my jaw from the floor, the receptionist began explaining the obscene rate.  This time the "flexible" cost was a result of a recent oil find.  He advised that every hotel from Midland to Odessa would likely be near full, with available rooms at a similar price to the one he was authorized to offer.  I was allowed to use their lobby computer to attempt to find something suitable, but found what the hotel staffer said to be true.  

I knew the present situation could easily deteriorate into a repeat of the prior evening if we weren't careful.  This new information would definitely throw a wrench in our original plans.  Brian and I put our heads together and quickly regrouped.  Apparently, Pecos was the closest town with lodging in our budget.  We would stop for food outside Midland and then make our way to Pecos.  Our hope was to continue to coincide with Truman's sleep patterns.

We hit traffic, Truman awoke, and the crying began.  We slowly and painfully learned there wasn't much outside of Midland.  Hungry and tired, the enviroment was ripe for a fight, but we somehow held it together this time.

About an hour in, Brian saw a sign for a State Park with camping ahead.  It was a race against the sunset and there was no guarantee that Pecos would have affordable lodging by the time we arrived.  We quickly made the decision to take the upcoming exit and see what  Monahans Sand Hills State Park had to offer.  

The car rolled to a stop at the end of the off ramp.  We looked to the left and saw a beautiful wroght iron arch sign identifying we had found the park.  I turned on the blinker and paused to look both ways.  We were at a crossroads both physically and metaphorically.  In this moment, we were opening ourselves to think outside the traditional lodging box...and in doing so experience something we'd only seen in the movies.  

The road was clear, I made the turn, and we pulled through the entrance into the unknown...

The entrance to Monahans Sand Hills State Park

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Trekking Across Texas | Part 1

It was time to leave Corney Lake and head on to a new adventure, volunteering with the US Forest Service.  Packing the pop up always took longer than expected and this day was no different.  Keeping Truman occupied while trying to complete the two person job of dismantling camp came with it's own set of challenges.  Now 13 months old, he was becoming more mobile.  He hated being contained and for his safety this was necessary while packing.  Once we were hitched up and ready to go it was time to strap Truman into his carseat.  He cried until he fell asleep to the rhythm of the tires putting road between us and Kisatchie.  We had 1,245 miles between us and our destination, and with the ability to travel about 4 hours a day, we needed to get a move on if we were going to make it to Roosevelt by our April 1st start date.

The first day we made it about 3 1/2 hours to a place called Canton, TX.  With sunset pending, we opted for a hotel.  This would be our first experience with "flexible" hotel pricing.  Truman had met his limit for the day and we were about to test our own.  I pulled in to the first lodging off the exit, a Motel 6.  I pulled in and parked temporarily under the awning near the entrance.  I was so ready to be out of the car and even more so to check into a room.  It had been over a week since we had showered in the traditional sense.  

I entered a full lobby and the air was thick with a smog of negativity.  It was easy to see the employee was disgruntled.  The line moved slowly and in my head I was preparing for a fight.  My mood was already soured by the 30 mins of crying we had just endured...and Brian was still enduring.  I knew he'd be wondering what the heck was taking so long.  With each minute that ticked by my blood pressure rose...and all from anticipation of things that hadn't even happened yet.

It was my turn at the front of the line.  I requested a room and was met with sticker shock.  The prices were $100 per night in lieu of an upcoming Flea Market event.   I attempted to explain we were simply traveling through in the hopes of some compassion, but there was none to be had.  It was $100 firm or move along.

My irritability was beginning to swell.  As I exited the hotel, I could hear Truman crying and see Brian's look of desperation...his body language screaming, "what the heck took so long".  I reached for the driver's side door handle and that's when I heard a gentleman address me in a tone I didn't take kindly to.  And that's the moment my limit was found.  I  turned and unleashed on this unsuspecting man.  

Brian leaped from the car to diffuse the situation.  He ordered me into the car with a tone I knew better than to argue with.  Once inside it's confines, we turned on each other.  We said a lot of things we didn't mean in those few minutes it took to drive to the Super 8 next door.

Luckily they were not price gouging and I graciously accepted their rate of $45 per night.  They even offered a complimentary breakfast.  Score!  Unfortunately, this turn of good fortune was not enough to dis way the foul mood I had set in motion minutes before.  

It definitely adds a new dynamic to go from spending hours a week together to every minute of every hour of every day.  Your spouse becomes your everything from your husband to your best girlfriend to the person you unload on.  We emptied the car in silence and continued our evening separately, eating dinner at two separate restaurants within walking distance.  Can anybody blame him...I can't.  

Truman and I enjoyed breakfast for dinner at a nearby Denny's.  Our hunger satisfied, I loaded Truman in the stroller and made the hike back to the room.  The cool night air felt good and the exercise lifted my mood.  By the time we made it back to the room Truman was asleep and I wasn't far behind.  Brian came in shortly after and crawled into bed to curl up next to his family.  His time off had seemed to erase his bad mood as well.  I whispered, "I'm sorry..."  He replied, "I know."  And we drifted to sleep.  

This wasn't our first spat and I'm sure won't be our last, but we have definitely minimized our disagreements over the last two years.  

If we've learned anything it's this...  

  • Don't sweat the small stuff
  • Some time apart is a necessity
  • Forgiveness is key

Monday, April 6, 2015

Primitive Camping at Corney Lake | Bernice, Louisiana, Late March 2013

Let's be honest...I have been putting off this article for forever.  I still feel a tinge of bitterness when I think about our time spent in Northern Louisianna.  It wasn't all bad.  We did make time for daily bike rides (in between the rain storms), Brian made a mean camp fire chili, and we enjoyed a really fun night by the fire with a bottle of cheap whiskey and our favorite internet radio station (thanks to verizon unlimited data and solar panel power for daytime charging of electronics).  

We were spent by the time we hit Kisatchie in late March of 2013.  Upon leaving NOLA, we drove north to Lafayette and settled on camping in a private campground called Maxie's, that Brian had found while leafing through a lodging magazine we had picked up at a rest area.  Unfortunately, this RV park just happened to be right next to a highway.  The tree barrier did little to block the sound and late night hours did little to alleviate the traffic.  The one highlight was our camping neighbor, Barb.  She, too, had sold everything and bought an RV to travel.  It was the second and last time we would use our movie projector purchased with the vision of hosting movie nights in campgrounds we stopped in across the US.  Our thought was it would help us meet people.  That night we watched Nature Calls (appropriate...we thought so) projected on the side of our pop up.  Barb joined in contributing cracker jack snacks.  Barb is still traveling today.  Check out her blog here.  
The movie Nature Calls being projected on the side of our pop up

We packed up the next day and by the time we were ready to pull out it was more afternoon than morning.  After solely camping in the pop up from mid February through mid March, we treated ourselves to a free stay in the  Best Western up the road by using points from our rewards card.  This was followed by several days in a cheaper hotel across the street which we paid for out of pocket.  We needed to decompress.  We needed to regroup.  We needed to ask ourselves some serious questions.  Could we really do this?  Physically?  Financially?  Mentally?  Should we just throw in the towel and head back to PA?  

We decided to stick it out for the time being.  Reevaluating our finances, we began to look at free camping options to offset the cost, making more money available for food and gas.  Our first destination would be Corney Lake, about 4 hours north of where we were.  Following several days of "cushy living" while staying in hotels, we figured we would be ready from some backcountry camping.  We were also hoping for some more seasonable temperatures.  As we pulled away from the hotel I felt a bit of excitement at the prospect of returning to life in the pop up we now considered home.
Our first day at Corney Lake 

Corney Lake is located within the Kisatchie National Forest.  The nearest town would be Bernice, 9 miles down the road.  As a rule, camping of this type is free and sans amenities such as water and electric.  This location did provide pit toilets within a short walking distance and flush toilets within sight best visited by bicycle or car (though we did walk there several times a day all depending on urgency).

Our first night there we set up camp, got a fire going, and poured ourselves a celebratory drink.  It was nice to be back on the road and back in our "home".  It was a fair evening and the sky was clear.  The lake lapped the shore lulling us into relaxation mode.  Truman slept, while Brian and I continued to celebrate.  Patting ourselves on the back for deciding to tough it out.  If we had thrown in the towel, we would have missed this.  We were feeling fine.
Truman happy to be back in the Pop up 

And then we were blindsided by what came next.  

As I stated above, we were in search of primitive camping and cooler temps after a week in Lafayette with temperatures pushing 80 degrees and summer like humidity.  We got more than we bargained for...and not in a good way.  We were plagued with freezing temps, rain, wind, lack of sun (so very limited power), and neighbors with a generator that they ran 24/7 (even though courtesy hours were posted on site).  There were some positive highlights from this stay, but many of the pictures and videos captured during this time show exhaustion and desperation.
Raw emotion

The Palm Sunday Snowstorm of 2013 brought rain and cold temperatures to the southeastern United States.  Northern Louisiana was experiencing daytime temps around 50 degrees and nighttime temperatures in the 20's.  The wind blew constantly.  We had realistic fears of freezing to death in our sleep.  Because of this we all slept in one bed.  We layered our clothing and slept in hats.  We always put Truman in the middle to keep him warm.  Every blanket and sleeping bag we owned was piled on top.  If fear and desperation are the mother of invention, than Brian was Macgyver.  He concocted this radiant heating system using fired heated bricks and our large soup pot.  It actually worked pretty well in our little pop up.  
Brick Heat 

Hey, on the bright side, ice lasted forever and we didn't lose any food to spoiling.

And now, back to bitching.  As if it wasn't enough our sleep was being affected by the cold temps, those people and their damn generator.  It was so flippin' LOUD!  "RRRRR RRRrrr rrrrrr" it went, all hours, day and night!  And gas was over $3.00/gallon then too!  They arrived day 2 and were still there when we were pulling out.  There went our peace and tranquility.  If we have a pet peeve this would be it, respect posted camp courtesy hours, respect your fellow campers, and we won't have a problem.
Who needs a generator? 


Back in Alabama the idea of camp hosting had peaked our interest.  After a little research, we settled on exploring our options within the National Forest Service.  This option offered free campsites in exchange for 20 hours a week in labor.  This plan had the possibility of giving us long term lodging security.  If we were successful in our placement, we could have future opportunities in locations across the US.  We kept our heads down and focused on applying to voluteer positions with the National Forest Service.  We had a lead from Northern California while we were in Lafayette, but our services were not required until the end of June.  And honestly, we needed something sooner.  Our original plan had been to stay in Kistachie 2 weeks, but our patience with our impolite neighbors was waning fast.
Our Home (February 2013 to May 2013)

All our hard work paid off and we got the call.  We had been accepted as camp hosts with the Tonto National Forest at Roosevelt Lake.  Our start date was set for April 1st, 2013.  We began planning our departure.  We woke up early and packed up camp.  With adventure awaiting us and that noisy generator in our rear view mirror, the highway beckoned us.  We pulled out with 1,245 miles of road ahead of our destination and a renewed sense of passion for our cause.
Until we meet again...







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