June 21, 2017

Today’s the summer solstice. Aunt Patti’s birthday. And here we are celebrating at Maybell Park – an empty, dusty town square. It’s a fleck on the map neither one of us have ever heard of and we couldn’t be happier about it. Chris evaluated the lighting. There was a tall light post right at our camp. I thought “oh no, am I going to be able to sleep?” Chris thought “security.”

I looked at the street signs – “Ellis & Lowell.” I wonder who they were. I prayed that whatever spirits still hung out in the park blessed us that night and kept us safe. Ginger and I took a walk around the park. She marked frequently, making sure everyone knew who was in charge. There were a few folks in tents. A few RVs. But for the most part, it was quiet. Which meant I could relax and have a puff without worrying too much about it.

I stopped by the restrooms and picked up a brochure that looked interesting. It’s amazing what treasures you can find in these out of the way places. If some chamber of commerce or convention and visitor bureau chose to highlight it, why not explore it? The Airstream is riddled with campground sales guides and brochures from small towns across the country. And some big ones. Sometimes we stopped. More times we piqued a curious eyebrow and said “maybe someday.” Like most of us, I take more time to stop the older I get. As long as they have a restroom.

The circle Ginger and I made around the park didn’t take very long, but Chris had managed to take out the grill and start cooking by the time we got back. I felt like we had been in a time warp. I think my timeline was slowing down along with the town I found myself in for the night. But Chris’ light burned bright and he had plenty of energy. And he had already had a couple of beers to warm up.

Chris was cooking a steak and a couple of ears of corn. We had stopped by the store on the way out of town to pick up supplies. I grabbed some hummus and a package of falafel. Thank goodness we had power tonight and could use the microwave to heat them. I hadn’t thought of that when I suggested boon-docking at Juniper Springs. I made Ginger’s bed at the front of the camper and she immediately jumped into it. The radio was on. Chris had managed to find a local country station.

I made a plate of fresh vegetables, grabbed some hummus and wine, set the table and sat down to read over the brochure I had picked up. Ginger jumped down and looked at me patiently, asking if she could sit with me. Of course I said yes. She made herself comfortable and I started reading. Apparently Dinosaur National Monument was a short way up Highway 318, headed to the most northwestern part of the state. I’d never been that direction. According to the brochure, there was a lot I had missed!

Chris came in with steak and corn in hand. He grabbed a fresh beer and we enjoyed dinner as usual. Dinner as usual for us may not be dinner as usual for most folks. I knew our relationship was special the first time we talked on the phone. We talked about what we were making for dinner. That was after I had started a local farm to table restaurant with my family. I knew that good food was an integral part of who I was and how I wanted to live in the world. Now that’s after almost forty years not caring about it in the slightest mind you. Another 180 degree shift after Shelly’s death.

We’re foodies. So camping for us typically includes some specialty items. Like when we catered for our friend Tracy’s river trip down the Green River. Instead of ice packs, we had frozen green smoothie and mango kombucha packs. Instead of boxed pancakes, we brought home-made vegan, gluten-free blueberry, blue corn buckwheat pancake mix.

I grabbed a bowl of Coconut Bliss for dessert while Chris posted pictures of our meal on Facebook. Ginger and I listened to music. I had posted on Facebook at the restaurant. I knew it was an important way to put myself out there and connect with people. It worked amazingly well. I met people with whom I share a connection to this day. But I walked away from it at the first opportunity. It was incredibly draining. And eventually I thought – what could I possibly say that hasn’t been said already?

Instead I became much more interested in listening to and learning from the world rather than spouting my version of should-be’s into it. And eventually I didn’t even really care about listening anymore. At least to the traffic noise of social media. There were just too many voices to be heard elsewhere and too many other things I wanted to explore.

Ginger raised her head suddenly and looked at the front of the Airstream as if someone was sitting on her bed. She was so funny about that, staring off into space. “Is that Uncle Don Gingee?” No doubt, she could see much more than we could. Uncle Don had passed away a couple of years prior. I was convinced Ginger could see him, Shelly and all sorts of things we were clueless about.

I took out the papers I had brought with us. A road map of each day’s journey, along with reservation confirmations for the hot springs along the way. Chris looked up with a wry smile and said “You know honey, we can save nine minutes if we head north instead of taking Highway 40.” I tapped my fingers on the stack of papers I had thoughtfully printed out ahead of time. “It’s funny you should mention that. I was just reading about a scenic byway that direction. Highway 318.” Our destiny was set. And unbeknown to us at the time, Elliot was loving every minute of it.