Idaho, 2015, Day Seven

 We discovered we have an extra day to kill before our family reunion in Idaho so we discussed options and Beartooth Pass sounded like a great adventure.  Writing down instructions from the breakfast lady at the hotel we headed for Cody, Wyoming and the mountains bordering the horizon.

I will never forget the last time I was in Cody back in the early 90s.  It was Paul and I and our two kids in a conversion van lugging around a Hi-Lo camper that was too heavy a load.  Just past Cody we chugged up a mountain with eye-popping scenery, sheer drop-offs, and inclines that gave our poor van a workout.  It was just under twenty miles to the top but we made it.  At the peak of the mountain a road crew was stopping traffic and we waited our turn to pass along with the other tourists going our way.  When the flagger waved us on we slowly moved forward and Paul, with an edge of panic in his voice informed me that, “This van has no power.”

“What do you mean?” I knew it wasn’t a mechanized marvel of excess horsepower but it had just made it to the top of a pretty impressive mountain, so why the panic now?

“I mean, nothing is happening when I push on the gas!”   Now I heard panic AND irritation.

“What are you talking about?  We’re moving forward.”  I sounded clueless because, well, I was.

“We are coasting.  Nothing is happening when I push on the gas, I’m telling you!!”

What followed was a long, tense ride down that mountain.  Was it the transmission?  The motor?  Some other malfunction neither of us had a name for???  I’m married to a man who can build anything but he has never pretended to be a mechanic.  He can change the oil if he has to, or replace a flat tire but that’s about it.  Oh, he can also keep a radiator filled and I know this because we kept a gallon of water handy that whole trip for our poor old tired and thirsty van.

Paul coasted us as far as possible but when the pavement leveled out at the bottom our poor exhausted van came to a total stop beside the road.  There was no sign of habitation in any direction.  All other traffic had long since passed us and was gone. 

We sat there and looked at each other for a few seconds and then Paul got out and unloaded one of our bikes from the camper and said he was going to go see if he could find help. Believe it or not, we were alive in the days before cell phones. I watched him pedal off down the deserted road and prayed God would have mercy on us poor idiots.

The kids and I got out and Erik climbed the nearest tree while Jaimee’ entertained herself doing what ten-year-old girls do when they’re outside passing time.  She pestered her brother and generally enjoyed the whole adventure with no thought for how complicated this might turn out to be.  I decided for better or worse this is all part of our family history so I dug out the video camera (back then they weighed about ten pounds and were the size of a small microwave) and I tried to ignore the knot in my stomach while I filmed the kids and their shenanigans.

It was less than a half-hour later when an old pickup truck came putzing back up the road from the way Paul had disappeared.  It was a mechanic from a town just around the bend and over the hill.  He had Paul’s bike in the bed of his truck and Paul riding in the front with him.  I wanted to fall at his feet and bless him and all his future off-spring but instead I just said hi and stayed out of their way as they hunched over the open hood of the van.

Paul told me a little later, when we were driving down the road again, what had happened.  “I found this little town, mostly deserted, and saw this guy working outside his shop.  He had a motor on a bench and was fixing it.  He was the only person around.  I rode up and told him what had happened.  He said he thinks the transmission got too hot and the 0-rings let all the transmission fluid out and all it needs is more fluid.”

I tried to pretend that all made sense to me while Paul finished his story.  “I really thought we’d be rebuilding a transmission.”  He shook his head in amazement.  “Then when we got back to the van, I looked underneath and you could see the fluid all over the bottom of the van.  That guy was right.  All we had to do was fill it back up and it was fine.”

“It’s a miracle.”  I said, and I believed it.  “It’s a weekend.  I didn’t think you’d find anyone around out here to help even if you could find a town. And if that thing had conked out before reaching the top of that mountain. . .”  I didn’t need to finish that thought.  It was unpleasant to imagine the possible outcomes of that scenario.  We laugh about it now, even while we acknowledge it could have been much worse. God really does look out for fools and children.

That had all been more than twenty years ago.  So when we had the chance to go through Cody again, I was enthused to experience a ride over those mountains without the anxiety of a breakdown ruining the fun.  And what a beautiful day it was!

I can’t even try to describe the scenery.  Our cameras couldn’t capture it either.  But we made some great memories again.  Fortunately with no mechanical problems this time.  We stopped at one of the overlooks and Wade pulled out a turquoise suitcase that opened up into a perfect picnic table with four bench seats.  We spread that little table with sandwiches, cheeses, grapes, chips and cookies we had purchased in the last town we’d passed through.  With wine we’d chilled in our little ice chest, and incredible vistas spread out before us it was a meal fit for kings and queens.

Countless switchbacks later, passing snowy hillsides at altitudes over 11,000 feet, rounding lakes tucked into hidden valleys and discovering snowmelt waterfalls bounding down the mountainsides, we were awestruck over and over.  And the lack of guardrails kept us breathless at times. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen.  At our age we need all we can get of both guardrails and O2.  When we came down the mountain we watched a storm to our left, black and threatening with vivid flashes of lightening looking like tears in a solid curtain.  It stayed out of our path but I was glad we were no longer up top.

This was our best day yet.