On The Road

Dodging Storms, Consuming Caffeine, and Making Memories.

We returned home unscathed after driving 2,417 miles through rain and snow, climbing to elevations exceeding 8600 feet, pummeled by 80 mph. wind gusts, through temperatures dipping down to -20 degrees F. We had freezing rain as we wound our way through the Wasatch Mountains of Utah slowing us down for a time before the temperature rose above freezing in Ogden. As we neared the Utah-Idaho border, we passed a plow dumping, what we assumed to be deicer onto a wet road, which we thought strange, then out of nowhere, the road was covered in wet snow. We passed three cars with their wheels pointing towards the sky off the side of the road. Emergency personnel reinforcements sped toward the scene from Burley or Twin Falls as a Helicopter hovered overhead. The snow was gone after just a few miles. 

In the end we spent four full days on the road, and another half day waiting for the interstate to open so we could proceed the final four hours to Denver, all in order to have three days with the Grandchildren. Was it worth it? Absolutely!

I have long since reached the age where any self-aware person has learned their strengths and weaknesses; the things they do well, and those things we struggle with. Not that I have a choice at this point, but I am quite content with where I am in life. I can glance at my reflection without recoil, and without regret, knowing that there are more than a few moments I would like to have back. In this life we rarely get a “redo.” We must continue to trudge onward through all the stages of life, good and bad, easy and difficult until we take that final breath, and our stories become a final draft. 

I have come to look at the past as rehearsal for the present. The opportunity not to undo the past but to learn from it and do better. My Grandchildren have no such perspective. They all think I am a way better person than I really am, and I soak it up for all its worth. These kids get the best of me, and in return, I get the best of them. Time will pass as it must, leaving my Grandchildren with a handful of joyous memories they can carry with them through the course of their lives. 

Ever since I was a young lad, I loved being on the road. The folks that live alongside our nation’s highways are some of the best people I have ever encountered. Like the lone waitress working solo at the Starlight Café in Vale Oregon, keeping mugs full of hot coffee while taking orders and serving food with efficient, timely precision.

When we entered The Grille Restaurant in Tremonton Utah, we were not expecting to be handed menus featuring huge portions at reasonable prices and incredible deserts. Do not pass on desert if you are passing through.

The Hitching post in Green River Wyoming was another terrific stop where I had the best omelet of the entire trip. 

The Prairie Rose Café in downtown Laramie Wyoming, stood out with its cool location, terrific food and their efficient hustle where a waitress was training her daughter to be a server and follow in her footsteps. Should we make the trip again, all those places would be mandatory stops.

Then there is the town of Elk Mountain Wyoming where I filled the gas tank wedged against the bumper to keep from being blown over by the wind, in near zero visibility while our I Phones received emergency “Squall” alerts along with a notification that I 80 was now closed. Inside the Conoco Store, the clerk and a Sheriff Deputy helped us find shelter from the storm at the Historic Elk Mountain Hotel (I will submit a review of this incredible Hotel as a separate post in the coming days), where we rode out the storm in luxurious, yet haunted accommodations at 7,200 feet in a town of one-hundred and fifty residents. I cannot thank those who helped us enough.

I am awful at remembering names and vow to do better in future posts. Everyone we encountered is deserving of mention.

Then there is the most valuable experience of all: being alone with my wife, discussing many topics, issues, talking smack, laughing and just riding together in quiet comfort. I will always look back fondly on her terrific company as we rolled along.   

One of the topics on repeat was fuel prices. As you travel eastward, unleaded fuel was $2.65 a gallon, while just under $4 in Oregon. It seemed ever hundred miles of eastward travel produced a noticeable price drop. Is the Midwest closer to the oil fields and refineries? or is it a series of factors producing this price difference. Whatever the reason, fuel was available and plentiful enough to keep us moving. 

We would have missed all of this had we flown and judging by the number of cancelled flights over the Christmas travel season, we may not have made it to our destination at all. 

Today, I am a better man for the experience.

DE Haines

The Historic Elk Mountain Hotel

Part One

“Come in she said I’ll give you, shelter from the storm.”

Bob Dylan, Shelter from the Storm. Recorded September 17, 1974.

“Stay right behind him,” my wife instructed as I crawled along interstate 80. Blowing snow had the semi in front of us running with its blinking emergency flashers, fading in and out of view. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road out of fear the big rig would suddenly fill the entire windshield having come to a dead stop in front of us.  

“Move to the left, Babe,” my wife says having assumed the role of watching the edge of the road stakes through the white-out. I ease over, away from the markers, with my eyes glued to the white world in front. 

My knuckles were locked on the steering wheel as I braved a quick peek at the Explorers outdoor thermometer that read -5. Twenty minutes ago, it was 28 degrees as we rolled along through light flurries at seventy. The storm that had been forecast to hit southern Wyoming several hours after we would arrive at our destination in Denver had other plans. Now, with a gas tank nearing empty, near zero visibility, and temps forecast to dip below -20 overnight, we were in a what might be called “a bit of a pickle.”

In all honesty, we arrived in this situation after a series of seemingly innocent decisions. Each one seemed reasonable at the time it was made, but looking back now, each decision put us directly in the storms path.  

First, we left our overnight stay in Utah at seven AM. instead of six as I had originally planned. Leaving an hour earlier would have put us in Laramie when the storm hit and may have allowed us to push south, into Colorado where we would have escaped the worst of it.

Second, I did not top off the fuel tank at a previous stop because I still had more than enough fuel to reach Laramie. After the weather worsened, I decided to fuel up in Walcott, until we saw the closed gates not allowing eastbound traffic to return to the Interstate. We made a hasty decision to keep going rather than spend the night in a parking lot. At that point, conditions were not all that bad.

Third, we took longer in Green River for a food stop than we should have. I walked the dog around after feeding him breakfast more casually than I should have, thinking we had plenty of time to reach our destination before the storm hit. It was snowing when we left Green River.

Interstate 80 is an exposed mountain pass the entire width of Wyoming with elevations exceeding seven thousand feet in several places. When traveling in high elevations, speed is safety. With a storm approaching, I should have been focused on getting out of the way much sooner.

As we inched along, we caught a glimpse of a sign reading “Gas, next exit.” With visibility at near zero, and fearful we would get stuck without enough fuel to keep us warm through the night, we made the decision to fuel up right here, wherever here was. We crawled up the off ramp, turned left over the interstate as directed, and searched for the Elk Mountain Conoco store and fuel pumps, which I could barely see as I pulled in the parking lot. I used my body to shield the tank from the blowing snow, wedged my knee on the rear bumper to keep me in place, and filled the tank. After which, I pulled around the side of the back side of the store which did a fair job of blocking the wind. Inside, the clerk was on the phone as a man shopped the shelves for snacks from. As the clerk hung up, a sheriff deputy entered the store. 

“Okay guys, what do I do here?” I ask.

“Which way are you headed?” the sheriff deputy asked.

“Denver.”

“You won’t get past Laramie. Every road out of Laramie is now closed,” he informed me.

“So, what do I do?”

“Go slow and you may be able to make it to Laramie. I don’t know how much experience you have, but you can expect to not be able to see in places,” the deputy stated in a no nonsense tone.

“So, I can get back on the interstate?” I ask.

“There isn’t a gate at Elk Mountain to stop you,” the young clerk offered from behind the counter.

“You won’t get past Laramie,” the deputy said again.

It was just about then that all our cell phones received an emergency alert for a “Snow Squall.” I did not bother to read past the headline. I looked up and asked: “how long is this expected to last?”

“No telling,” answered the clerk.

“The interstate is unlikely to open before noon tomorrow,” the deputy added. “Crews must get out and clear all the wrecks once the storm clears. That is going to take a while”

“I don’t suppose there is anywhere to stay around here.”

“There is a hotel in Elk Mountain.”

“Are they dog-friendly? We have our dog with us.”

“Probably not, but you can ask,” replied the young man.

“Do you have the number,” I ask ready to punch in the number which the young clerk rattled off from memory.

“That’s impressive,” I said. “I don’t even have my wife’s phone number memorized,” which produced a slight chuckle from the man behind me, waiting to purchase his snacks. 

I moved out of his way and pressed send. I heard the man tell the deputy his big rig was parked across the road for the duration of the storm. He left the store and disappeared into the white world outside.

Courtney answered and promised to have a room available for us. She told me they don’t usually allow dogs, but it would be okay to house our furry friend for the night considering the current situation. 

“We are at the Conoco station off the interstate and are on our way.”

The deputy gave me directions back over the interstate to the small enclave of Elk Mountain. “Watch your speed as you come into town,” he advised. “The limit is 25, though you will probably not be going very fast anyway.”

I assured him I wouldn’t be. 

“Thanks guys!” I said turning to the deputy. “I do not want to wind up being one of the folks you need to go out and rescue.”

“I appreciate that,” he replied as I left the store.

Author’s note: I failed to make note, the name of the clerk or the deputy. In fact, the only name I managed to get was that of the nice lady who answered the phone and checked us in to the Historic Elk Mountain Hotel. In the future, I must do better with names! Everyone we encountered in Elk Mountain deserves our gratitude. There were many who spent the night of sub-zero temps in their cars and trucks while we were made very comfortable.