Four Country Gals

Having arrived at Dad’s barn, they set about gathering the many boxes and other items they’d been moving off the island for the past six months or so. Originally, they’d been packing and storing the boxes in the basement of their island home, but the Realtor insisted they move things off and put an end to any clutter.

So, they moved things three times, from the upstairs to the basement, and then back upstairs out the door, onto the truck, to a rented storage building, out of there, back onto the truck… across the lake to Dad’s barn.

By the time they had stuffed the moving van and 12 foot trailer, all available extra space in both the Avalanche and the Blazer, it was nearly 11 PM. Yikes, and they were still in Ohio!

On the road… no matter they’d been up way before the sun. They must press onward.

They convoyed back to pick up the I-80 Turnpike, and head west.

Somewhere west of Toledo at the Swanton Rest Area they pulled off for much needed sleep.

Every time they stopped and started again, Cindy called Shari. It mattered not that there was a time zone adjustment, or that it might be the middle of the night. So, Shari was called after the vet stop, and then again very late, as they left Dad’s barn.

Very early the next morning, with fresh eyes, they again started their trek… Utah or Bust!

Bev and Jim did most of the driving, with Cindy filling in for short stints. On long boring straight highways, Cindy tended to get drowsy (or is that mesmerized).

From just west of Toledo, they put the pedal to the metal, soon heading into Indiana, through Illinois, Iowa, and into Nebraska. They’d be on I-80 until they got to I-76 just west of Ogallala. Even though they had well over 1900 miles to go, they felt like they’d be there in no time.

The towns and cities became a blur as they raced westward, stopping only to fuel the rigs, themselves, the dogs, and to provide a few minutes “out” for the dogs and themselves.

By the time they stopped for the night in Kearney, Nebraska, they’d gone through most of Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and half of Nebraska. That’s also four update calls to Shari, who was tracking their progress, as well as keeping an eye on the weather for them.

The found a “dog friendly” motel and crashed for the night, knowing the most challenging section of the trip was still ahead… the drive across the Rockies with the Avalanche pulling a 12-foot trailer.

Up early again and fueled by coffee and a McDonald’s breakfast, it was time to load the dogs, and point their convoy westward.

From Nebraska into Colorado and another call to Shari, they could almost see the mountains now.

With Denver just ahead, the Rockies were in plain view. From Denver, they were just 60 or so miles from the famed Eisenhower Tunnel…

the highest vehicular tunnel in the world at over 11,000 feet. This would officially take them through (rather than across) the Continental Divide.

Now they were on the western side of the Continental Divide, where all the drainage would point to the Pacific Ocean.

Just west of Denver, the weather had turned quite sour on them, with “slushy rain”. That terrible stuff stayed with them all the way through the higher elevations. After that, it was rain clear into Utah. Who’d have thunk you’d run into this kind of weather in August.

Somewhere along the Glenwood Canyon, with Bev driving the Avalanche… the trailer got in a huge hurry to get to Utah. As she was watching the trailer skid along side her left rear tail light, it was all she could do to correct it’s path.

After a quick underwear change at the next rest stop, it was someone else’s turn to drive as Bev took time to recover from her near disaster. Just as soon as they had a cell signal, Cindy called Shari to let her know they’d nearly lost the trailer.

Time out for fuel, refreshments, and a “doggie out” in Grand Junction before pressing forward to Utah… just twenty miles west.

Cindy, who’d never seen much in the way of mountains was in total awe of the beauty and mass of the Rockies. With each turn and slight change of scenery, she’d take another picture.

Would you believe that within less than 180 miles, they had dropped from the “top of the world” at the Eishenower Tunnel into Grand Junction at less than 5,000 foot elevation. No wonder the trailer was in a hurry.

With only 340 or so miles to go, they once again pointed the convoy west, towards I-15 and Cedar City. There they would spend the night at yet another “dog friendly” motel.

As if the drive hadn’t already been tortuous, I-15 was under construction most of the way. Here it was, dark, rainy and now they had the “orange barrel brigade” to keep them on their toes.

It was late, very late when they reached Cedar City. Luckily they had called ahead for reservations. No time for anything but to fall into bed, totally exhausted from the marathon drive, yet anxiously anticipating the next day.

Remember, they had never seen their new home in person.