(7/24) After making breakfast and packing up, we left Malta and drove into City of Rocks National Reserve. It was the middle of the day when we first arrived and the heat was intense and uncomfortable. We took our best precautions; downing as much water as we could and thoroughly applying sunscreen, before heading towards the crag. As we reached the first climb on our agenda, fellow climbers informed us that there was a storm moving in. It wasn’t long after, while we were setting up to get on the route, that we started hearing thunder in the distance. Neither of us were very concerned, since the sky had been clear on our hike in, so we carried on. Of course, it started raining when we were halfway through and had to quickly bail. I set up our rainfly in the trees nearby, while Tom lowered himself off of the wall. Hoping that it would blow over, we sat under the fly and ate lunch. After a while, we lost hope and went back to the camper for shelter. The wetness eventually dried and we were able to get back out and do some evening climbing. Tom led a 5.11 during which he set a number of trad pieces, it was both good practice, and a testament to his improvement. We spent the night parked on BLM land not far from the park.
We started the following day with a “warm-up” 5.9 that had me spooked. It was less than vertical without many positive (meaning easy to grip/stand on) features. At times, I was 10 feet from my last clip, so I had the potential of falling 20-25 feet. Tom was at the bottom, encouraging me when I was the most afraid. Working through certain parts was a really good way to challenge myself and build confidence in my ability. We did a few more climbs, one of which was bolted by a friend that we met in Kentucky, before calling it a day. That night, we conversed about life around the fire we built at our campsite. We are still feeling so lucky to be in the position that we are and absolutely loving how we are able to spend our time.
On Thursday morning, I got up a while before Tom to practice yoga and take a spit bath. I was relentlessly swarmed by tiny flies, making it difficult to relax into my meditation. Although I can tell that I’ve gotten better at living outside, there are certain irritants, swarming bugs being one of them, that still get my goat. Once Tom was awake, we finished packing up and started our day’s drive. In the first town outside of the park reserve area, we stopped for breakfast. It was a very small, obviously old town so we ate at a cafe/bar that was one of the few options. It had a well-used, welcoming feeling that is often the product of small town living. We got a few good chuckles out of the well-humored posters and appreciated the rustic furnishings. After filling our bellies with an egg sandwich, hash browns, and biscuits and gravy, we were back in the truck and ready for our long drive. Bend was our destination and was 9 hours away. We made a pit stop in Boise where we stocked up on groceries for the weekend. Knowing that we’d be staying at a cabin with my family, we only needed a small amount of ice to keep our food refrigerated until then. I went into Subway to put some ice in our dry bag, and while I lifted it’s lip up to the dispenser a woman harshly asked what I was doing. I politely explained that I was hoping to get some ice, to which she snapped that it was unsanitary. Just as I accepted that this would be my first unsuccessful ice operation, she told me that I could follow her into the back where she would fill my bag straight from the freezer. After thanking her, I rushed out of the store, eager to tell Tom what had happened. The part that had me laughing was that, had it been him in the store, he would have been a nervous wreck. He is already uncomfortable getting ice, and this particular situation would have made him feel like he was caught red handed. After everything was situated, we were back on the road. We noticed, when we were about 100 miles out of Bend, that we were low on gas but not long after, had a gas station in sight. Being as we were driving on a long, desolate road, the best thing to do would have been to stop and fill up. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the wisdom that we now have and decided instead to risk making it to the next town. Our excitement spiked when the truck informed us that we had 50 miles until empty. At that moment, I looked at the atlas and saw that Brothers was the next town that we would pass through. Google confirmed that they had a gas station and calculated us at 40 miles out. It was a little close for comfort, but we were confident that we’d make it. The truck beeped with a warning that we had 10 miles before empty right as we pulled under a large sign that read “gas” in all capital letters. Unfortunately there were no pumps and the general store appeared to be closed. One other couple was pulled over, but were on the phone so we couldn’t ask them for help. We were 40 miles from Bend and equally as far from the gas station that we foolishly passed. There wasn’t much to the town, but across the street was an elementary school with multiple cars parked out front. As we approached the school, we noticed a small sign posted on the fence that said: “No gas available to the public”. For whatever reason, this didn’t deter us. We walked through the school’s parking area over to a tank that looked like it might have held diesel. On our way back, we stopped in front of the school’s doors and peeked inside. 10-15 people were sitting around a large table and as I began to step back, one of them waved us in. I opened the door and with Tom following behind, explained our predicament. They all shook their heads and said that it is a common occurrence. One of the men that was seated popped up without saying anything and told us to follow him. Thanking the group, we started behind him and were led back across the street to where we were parked. He told us that he helped tend the store and would give us enough gas to get us to Bend. As he filled our tank for us, I asked him his name and where he was from. He introduced himself as Eric, and told me that he grew up in Illinois. He explained, after I asked, that he had moved here to have multiple brain surgeries done. I expressed empathy and questioned about the purpose of the surgeries. I felt sick to my stomach as he expounded. Without telling why, he said that he had been jumped by a group of guys with baseball bats and has had multiple operations since to have blood taken off of his brain. “Finding a job has been difficult with my situation, but the owner of this shop was kind enough to offer me work.” He continued by saying that he felt lucky to still be here considering what he’d been through. Right when he finished pouring our gas, he bid us farewell and began assisting the two other vehicles that had pulled over for the same reason. “We’ll never forget you, Eric,” Tom yelled out to him as we drove off. We both sat, humbled by his story and kindness, in disbelief that we had once again been on the receiving end of such generosity. We drove well under the speed limit, unsure of how much gas we had and trying to make it stretch. Immediately after arriving in Bend, we filled up at a gas station. Our slight panic in Brothers generated a shot of adrenaline that was now wearing off, leaving us feeling hungry and tired from the long drive. Deschutes National Forest lies right outside of town and is where we settled in and enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep.
My phone rang Friday morning with a FaceTime call from Sherah. We answered to find her, Havila, Brizz and Ruthie on the other end. Everyone who had planned to go to my Cousin, Christopher’s wedding, flew into Seattle and would be driving down to Rainbow later that day. After making a plan for meeting up with them that afternoon, we made breakfast and packed up. We spent the late morning in Bend, buying new climbing shoes, and dropping old pairs off to be resoled. After crossing off our major checklist items, we headed for McKenzie River. I had researched a trail that I had hoped to run, so we made that our first stop. Tom let me sleep for most of the drive, so when we pulled in, he set up the hammock and slept while I ran with Mogli. Sherah, Orionna, Havi, My Mom and the kids all arrived later that evening. We ate out for dinner before hanging out at the cabin that Orionna had reserved. Majority of us called it an early night, while Orionna and Tom waited up for Michael, Kyle and Bre to arrive.
The kids were up early the next morning, stirring the rest of the cabin to a state of half awake. We cuddled on the couches and drank coffee to slowly start the day before making breakfast. Once cleaned up, we divided into groups according to what activities people wanted to do. Sherah, Havi and I ran on the nearby road, alternating who pushed Brizz in the stroller. The hills were rolling, and it didn’t take much time before the extra weight felt unbearable. The wedding started at 5, so we got ready early in order to go spend time with my Grandma beforehand. Not only was it a beautiful event, but sharing it with family made it all the more enjoyable. My Grandma fearlessly shook it on the dance floor, inspiring us all to unshamefully be ourselves. It was a long night of fun, laughter and throwback hits before wrapping it all up with our brothers and sisters at the cabin.
My Aunt Janine hosted breakfast for us all on Sunday morning. This gave us the opportunity to see everyone one more time before leaving. We congregated around full plates of eggs, pancakes and muffins, happy for the rare occasion of all being together. Michael’s car left first, driving Kyle, Orionna and Bre to the Portland Airport to catch their 4pm flight. My Mom left with them as well, heading all the way back to Seattle. Sherah and Havi stuck around a little longer to find an area for the kids to swim. We all went to Cougar Reservoir and dipped in it’s cool, turquoise water. It was a blazing hot day and the water offered the momentary relief that we all needed. Saying goodbye to the last of our family left us feeling a bit lonely. The noise and commotion can be overwhelming, but the energy and love recieved far exceeds the output. After they left, Tom and I were back on the road, stopping in sisters for lunch, then Redmond for groceries. We planned to climb at Smith Rock the following day, so we found an area to camp nearby. We spent the evening in the camper with sweat beading on our bodies. The air was thick with heat and we were without a means of escape. We drifted off after the sun had set with wet towels over our bodies to ease the continued heat and help us fall asleep.
It didn’t take long after waking up to realize that climbing in what was forecasted to be 100 degree weather, was not in our best interest. Rather than stay at Smith Rock, we headed for Post Fall’s, ID in search of cooler temperatures. Tom found the perfect spot where we could climb, cliff jump and relax on a lakeside beach all within a reasonable distance. The drive was long and hot, even with our air conditioning working overtime to combat the sun’s intensity. After parking near where we planned to climb, we both jumped out of the car, feeling like freed birds from a cage. We were just about to walk away with our bags on our backs, when Tom noticed that the aluminum protective covering on the front of the camper was peeling up. Apparently, the heat mixed with high winds was able to do worse damage than a misfit with a pry bar. Me, being the proctastinator that I am, wanted to carry on and deal with it later. Tom, being the responsible one with a can-do attitude, urged that we find a hardware store and get to fixin’. Only having a few hours of daylight left, we had to choose one or the other. We decided to go the proactive route, knowing that we’d thank ourselves later. We drove a few miles to the nearest hardware store where we bought a handful of screws. Before using them to fasten the plate to the wood underneath, we had to remold the metal and tuck in back down into the trim. It was so mis-shaped and bubbled, that we weren’t able to return it exactly to it’s original state, but close enough for the metal and trim to meet and be sealed with cocking. With our tools stored back in their place, we headed for a nearby campground on Rose lake. We were fortunate that our hard work had payed off, allowing us to rest peacefully after a long day in the car.
Tuesday started with a refreshing bath in Rose Lake. There weren’t many weed-free openings to take a dip, so we slowly eased in on the boat launch, careful not to disturb those fishing off the dock. Instead of back-tracking 30 minutes to climb in the spot that we had missed the day before, we decided to drive to Missoula, MT. After a few hours in the car, we arrived in town where we made a few stops. First, was the grocery store, where we stocked up on food and had a parking lot picnic. Next, we perused a used book store, in search of the second two books of a trilogy that Tom was hoping to finish. He was noticeably enthusiastic after finding both copies, each of which were reasonably priced. He patiently sat in the store, starting in on the second of the three, while I took my time paging through a number of possible contenders. Feeling happy with each of our two, new reads, we set off to spend the evening climbing and camping in Kootenai National Forest.
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