***
THE ROAD MORE TRAVELEDIt was a dark and stormy night at my mom's house in Northern California. Maybe it was a sign, or perhaps it was just that it was winter in the foothills of the Sierras. Mr. T and I were snuggled in bed, actually we were probably more like butt-to-butt. Anyway, we were trying to get a good night's sleep because we were leaving in the morning, heading back to Seattle...by car. Yes, we drove and, yes, it took a long time and, yes, we brought both of our dogs.
And, yes, we were crazy.
We actually made it out the door and on the road shortly after 7 a.m. The drive takes 12 hours, so we were glad we were able to leave when we did. You know how it is getting out the door when you are leaving family. Goodbyes aren't complete unless there's excessive hugging and lots of tears. It's not a bad thing, it's just a fact.
The wet and windy storm from the previous night was still hanging around. It was drizzling but like I said, it was winter. We were making pretty good time northbound on I-5 approaching Mt. Shasta -- we were so close to the Oregon border we could taste whatever it is that state's known for. Does anyone know? Lewis and Clark? That's gross, we couldn't taste them. Anyway, a couple hours before we saw one of those "Tune to 530 AM for Road Conditions" signs. It was flashing, so we turned on the station. Except it was too fuzzy to understand what they were saying. We assumed it was about the pass through the Siskiyous requiring chains or 4-wheel drive. We were in a 4-Runner so, yeah, we were good.
The closer we got to Mt. Shasta the clearer 530 AM came in, and by the time we got there we discovered I-5 was closed in both directions because of a massive mudslide in the Siskiyous. We got off the freeway and pulled in to a gas station in Weed along with everyone else who had been heading north (this wasn't the first time we made this trip and we always stop in weed because there's a truck stop gas station there that has the cleanest bathrooms). The rain was coming down in enormous drops and the parking lot was a giant slush pool. The dogs reluctantly got out and went potty, and we bought a map.
The mudslide on I-5 south of Ashland, Ore.
LAUGHING ALL THE WAY
People in the gas station were discussing the best detour and the consensus seemed to be to take Highway 97 up into Oregon and then head west on Highway 66 to meet up with I-5 again in Ashland, an adorable town in Southern Oregon that hosts a world-famous Shakespeare Festival every year. We decided to go with that plan.
We headed north behind a line of cars on Highway 97, it was smooth sailing. I think I probably said, "This isn't too bad at all," which everyone knows are famous last words. We made it into Oregon and saw a road leading west with a solid line of cars. "That must be Highway 66." It was. We consulted the map and it showed Highway 97 continuing all the way north through central Oregon. We didn't want to sit in a traffic jam if we didn't have to. "Why don't we just cut over on a different western highway?" (I don't remember who said these things, just that they were said.)
As everyone exited to 66, we zoomed north happy to be out of the constricting traffic, and mocking all the fools who were content to sit in a jam. It wasn't raining anymore so we let the 4-Runner stretch its legs...for about five minutes.
CALLING A BLUFF
All of a sudden we were in the middle of a kind of wind tunnel. The gusts were so strong they were pushing an oncoming semi truck into our lane. After making it through the extreme wind, we stopped in Klamath Falls. It was strangely deserted. The slush was ankle deep. Mr. T pulled in at a gas station to use the restroom and top off the tank. "You gotta go?" he offered after getting back in the car. I just wanted to get back on the road, so I declined. What a dummy.
We went north and up out of Klamath Falls. It started to snow. The higher we went, the heavier the snow -- and the more traffic we noticed. Soon we were on top of a high bluff in a clearing of sorts. Fat flakes were falling fast and thick. The two-lane highway cut through the snow, which was creating five-foot walls on the shoulders of the highway. The forest didn't start for nearly 50 yards on each side. It was beautiful. The white was perfectly flat and it contrasted sharply with the dark evergreens.
And, then we stopped. And, then we crawled along the highway in Drive. We we were going so slow the mph didn't even register on the speedometer. After a couple of hours of this I began regretting my decision not to visit the restroom in Klamath Falls. Mr. T told me to just wade into the snow and go. If the trees had been closer, I might have. I usually prefer not to have an audience when I go to the bathroom. Oh, yeah: Did I mention it was that lovely time of the month for me? I squirmed in my seat. The dogs snored in the back.
RELIEF IN SIGHT...KIND OF
Now it was dark and we were still in Southern Oregon. In all, it took four hours to go 40 miles. We finally came to a town on the way down from the bluff. I think it was the outskirts of a town called Chiloquin. It looked small from what I could see. It was really dark for some reason. Mr. T pulled in to the first gas station he saw (so did everyone else). I jumped out and ran to the door where me and five other women read this sign: POWER OUTAGE. RESTROOMS OUT OF ORDER. Crap. We all ran back to our cars. The race to find working bathrooms was on!
The next tiny town we came to had power and a bathroom. It was a sort of indoor/outdoor bathroom -- the floor had an inch of slush -- but at that point I didn't care anymore. Surprisingly, I didn't have to wait in line to use it; I must have found a secret bathroom or something. We were happy to be on our way again.
We traveled through Bend and Redmond. No problems. Then we rolled to a stop in Madras. I ran in to use the bathroom in a gas station/restaurant and found out the only intersection that leads out of town was flooded. That's right. Nobody was getting through at the Y of Highway 26 and 97, which is why there was a line of trucks and cars just hanging out in the middle of town. This gave us time to debate whether or not we should brave the pass through Mt. Hood toward Portland on 26 or continue on 97 to 197 up to The Dalles and then go west on 84 along the Columbia River to Portland.
Turns out we had a whole hour to discuss it.
STAY AWAY FROM THE LIGHT
Finally, the men with big vacuums had sucked the intersection dry and we were moving again. I wish I could remember what time it was; it was late, maybe 10 p.m. We'd been in the car for about 15 hours and we decided it would be best to continue along the route we'd been traveling. We didn't want to chance a major snowstorm over a pass.
Everyone else went left onto Highway 26. Hmmm...
Once again we were driving alone, which was fine except that it was so dark way out in the middle of nowhere. No city lights, no street lamps and no tail lights to follow. We exited 97 and went north-west on 197. We were doing well for a while and then as we began carving our way through what can only be described as switchbacks, we entered the fog -- the thickest I've ever seen. Mr. T had to slow down. I'm not sure how long we were in the fog -- it was a long time. It was so long that at one point a rare car heading south-east was approaching, it's headlights blurred by the white mist. We hadn't seen a car in hours. As it got closer to us I actually started to think maybe it was the "white light." Maybe we'd gone off of the side of this treacherous road and now we were heading into the light.
At last, we reached Interstate 84. We were home free, right? Wrong.
JUST GO, MAN
We headed west on 84 to Portland around 1 a.m. We talked about spending the night at a hotel, but we just wanted to get home after the day we'd had. It started raining. Normal enough for the area and time of year. But the closer we got to Portland the harder, faster and bigger the rain was. By the time we got on I-5, the rain was causing lakes on the road. Cars were slipping and sliding. We stopped for gas in Vancouver. Hooray! We were in Washington, at least. The dogs refused to get out to go potty (boxers aren't known for their love of the water). We dragged them out and we were all soaked to the skin within seconds.
Once again we were on our way -- northbound on I-5. We were so close to home, but it was after 2 in the morning, and Mr. T and I were exhausted. We pulled in to a rest stop so Mr. T could, well, rest. Thirty minutes later and we were back on the freeway.
It was around 5 a.m. when we pulled in the driveway -- 22 hours after we left California*. We hit every kind of weather imaginable: rain, snow, ice, wind, flooding, mudslides, fog and even clear skies filled with stars.
I thought it was the most tired I'd ever be in my life.
That was before I had a baby.
*For the record, we haven't driven to California since.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are better than therapy!