'Round the Bend: Part 2

We were supposed to leave my parents' house on the Thursday after Christmas. (I will say, Christmas was really good. The kids were a riot to watch, and sick or not, they had a ball with the grandparents and their uncle)

After a quick weather check, and much debate, we decided to wait an extra day because the weather forecasts were looking ominous along our whole route home. So off we went early Friday morning, half full of high hopes for a better trip, and half full of dread, knowing even the smoothest trip would still mean 18-19 hours in the car.

Duncan started asking how much longer until we'd be home, after 2 1/2 hours.

The first nine hours passed by fairly uneventfully, just some fatigue/sadness/grumpiness on everyone's parts. We were half way home, and starting to feel somewhat relieved. We were suddenly informed by a lit sign that the freeway was closed, and we were directed off at the next exit. This had happened on the trip up too, but after a slight detour, we had gotten back on the freeway and carried on. So we weren't worried, we simply looked for the nearest path back to the freeway where we could resume our trip.

Enter know-it-all transportation worker. He hopped out of his pick-up and flagged us down. We roll down a window. "You trying to get yourselves poisoned?" Um, no...? He went on, very condescendingly mind you, like somehow we were already supposed to know, explaining that there had been a huge train wreck just a bit south of where we were, with a chemical spill, and it would take at least 2 to 3 days to clean up, so our best bet was to head home. The Utah plates apparently didn't give him any clues as to where that might be. He told us that finding a hotel would be near impossible anywhere near there. And then for some reason, though we had said next to nothing to him and definitely had not been in any way rude, he goes off on this snide, "But you can do whatever you want. You're probably way smarter than average. Keep going, see what happens." tangent. We were too tired and baffled to come back with anything. I could not speak, for about 15 minutes. I was so tired, still not totally well, I was angry and in denial.


There was no other way to go south. We were nearly at the OR/ID border. We did not have 2 to 3 days to mill around Oregon, waiting for a freeway that may or may not open sometime soon. So we turned around, and started heading north again. North. We drove all the way to Spokane where we found a hotel to stay in overnight. For our 13 hours of driving on Friday, we had a net gain of 4 hours.

After a not-great night's sleep, we were off once again. But only after discovering that two pairs of pants that had been pottied through the day before were left in the van overnight. Both parents evidently thought the other had grabbed them and/or bagged them up. So I neatly packaged up the frozen-solid-potty-pants-sculptures, and we carried on.

Spokane is pretty. Coeur D'Alene was gorgeous. And then on to Montana.

Montana was cold. Our antifreeze froze. There were all these little tiny pockets of towns throughout the mountains, and we were trying to figure out how anyone could live in most of them. Apparently in this particular section of the state, there is no limit to the number of sheds one can have in a yard. Everywhere I looked, sheds. Different sizes, shapes, colours, scattered across yards with no clear plan or purpose. We also passed a yard with a huge collection of dollies in one part, and a huge army of traffic cones in the other. Someone else had abandoned 2 newish looking fire trucks on a median, where they sat, under about 2 feet of snow. I do not understand Montana.

We hit some snowy conditions (that were not forecasted) which slowed us down some more. The kids were punch drunk by Pocatello. I fed them French fries for dinner. Again, no one slept. Saturday ended as we pulled into our driveway at midnight, after another 14 hours on the road. Kids down, car unloaded, bed at 2 am. I woke up coming down with something else. I'm still unpacking. I will not drive anywhere more than 3 hours from my house, ever, so don't ask.

Public bathrooms.
27 hours.
In-car diaper changes.
Spills.
Screams.

You want to see us? We'll be at home.