The plan was to head south for Presidents Week. It’s been a helluva winter, which is certainly not a complaint, however as good as the skiing has been, I’ve been itching to put some rubber on rock in the sunshine. We settled on St. George as it’s relatively close, has accessible camping, and appeared to have the best forecast. If things went well, it would also allow us to push on further towards Vegas or Sedona.
Well as they say, even the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Josie, my ten-month old, had a mild pre-trip bout with the flu, which she so kindly passed on to her dear old dad. Only my version was not so mild and left me full-on delirious before departure, relegating me to managing my body temperature and trying not to puke instead of trip-planning and packing. Nevertheless, in our post delirium, we persisted.
Fast-forward through the details, a few of which include running out of gas along the interstate mid-baby blow-out, gale-force 40-50 mph winds while camping, broken trailer parts, and resolving ourselves to a cheap motel room the final night of the trip, and I’d say overall, the experiment was a success – if only in the sense that we proved we could make the best of things against the odds. I’m not sure if it’s through blind optimism, or pure obstinance, but we’ve already started planning the next go-round.
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