There’s nothing better than a shower when you really need one, and we needed it after camping in Yellowstone. I peeled my shirt off at our hotel in Jackson and rinsed off before I slipped on a pair a jeans and my cowboy boots. The kids wanted to walk around the town on Tuesday night so we headed for the square and took a loop around the usual spots.
It was crowded, more so than we had ever seen it, but a number of restaurants, including our favorite ice cream joint, Moo’s, were inexplicably closed. I’d read an article that the coronavirus had reached this outpost in Wyoming due to all the travelers, and a number of businesses had simply closed to avoid the throngs of tourists. Indeed, they were everywhere and despite the signs admonishing the merry-makers that masks were required in Teton County, the compliance was incomplete at best.
We tried several restaurants for dinner but those that were open were mobbed, so we settled for a Mexican joint and got it to go, eating at a picnic table in front of our hotel. Even when we weren’t camping it seemed like we were camping. We weren’t alone though, everywhere we looked, people were picnicking on the grass, on the sidewalk and anywhere with chairs. It’s a weird time to be traveling—the virus seems to have upended all sense of normal, but people are adapting. It all strikes me as slightly more European in a way—the picnics at the hotel and by the side of the road. I wonder how much of these habits will remain when it’s all over, or whether it will all immediately snap back to the way it was. I think it’s anybody’s guess.
Before we turned out the lights on Tuesday night, I asked the kids to give me the list of everything they wanted to do on Wednesday. It was their day, and I wanted to roll their way. Though I put the burden on them to plan the day, I needn’t have. They picked the exact same things they’ve done every time—breakfast at Persephone, the shooting gallery and bowling. It wasn’t quite enough to fill a whole day, but I had greatest hit I wanted to play as well—the old west photo shoot. We had done it on our first trip in 2015 and it seemed like a fitting bookend.
We turned in early on Wednesday night and we’re on the road at 8am on Thursday morning. I’d put more than a little thought into the route we would take home to avoid both the heat and any excessive climbs, poring over weather forecasts and trying the remember the various elevation changes on different routes into LA. I settled on the tried-and-true I-15 through Salt Lake and Las Vegas but timed it so that we would be descending through the Virgin River Gorge at sunset, which set us up for a dark drive through the desert.
It worked perfectly, and about the time we crossed the California border, I turned to Samantha and announced that we had bingo fuel and were in towing range. It called for a “negative, Ghost Rider, that pattern is full” type of comment, but she hasn’t seen that movie yet. Still, she pulled her headphones down and we sang together to the treble-heavy dash speaker as we sped through the dark desert, an orange moon rising to our left. The Beach Boys, Orbison, Buddy Holly, The Animals, Don McLean... It was like the first road trip back in 2015, and I was glad to see that notwithstanding the teenage veneer, she still had the joy of singing at the top of her lungs like she did when she was nine.
“Oh, Samantha, this is a great one,” I said, twisting the knob up as far as it would go and turning to look as her in the green glow of the dash lights. Her head was resting against the window, eyes closed. I craned my neck to see if Parker by any chance was still awake, but he had stripped off his shirt and was lying down sideways on the back seat, not quite fitting as comfortably as he used to. I was starting down the Cajon Pass and the lights of LA were visible in the distance at last.
“You never know which one will be the last one,” I thought to myself. I pushed the throttle down and felt the old engine come alive, kicking down into passing gear with a comforting whine, then dropping back to a purr as we stretched out, propelling us forward. The gap in the headlights of the car behind me narrowed, opening a long space of open road on all sides. The expansion joints in the pavement kept the rhythm as they clicked by underneath the tires. It was all downhill from here.
Samantha admires the breathtaking view of Jackson Lake. Nikon D800, f9, 1/640 sec, ISO 100, -2/3 stop exposure adjustment.
Samantha and Parker pose in front of the Star Chief in 2020. Nikon D800, Nikkor 24-120mm lens @ 35mm, f5.6, 1/400 sec, ISO 100.
Five years ago…
Samantha poses at the Hole Bowl in Jackson Hole. iPhone XR, portrait mode.
Parker is ready to roll. iPhone XR portrait mode.
The Beck Gang rides again. Some said it was their last ride, but others say they’ve seen strange car parts delivered to their lair in Pasadena…