“We’re 16 minutes late…”
Elizabeth led off our trip with this most predictable intonation, well before the sun had thought of rising on August 12. Holding up her phone to document our departure from Norman for our vacation video, she simultaneously managed to generate some #content for me AND let me know that she was annoyed we were leaving at 5:46 instead of 5:30. I considered responding to defend my decision to methodically triple-check each item on our packing list prior to leaving, then decided that discretion was probably the better part of valor in this situation and kept my mouth shut. Maybe we could revisit the subject after Elizabeth got her fix from the I-35 Starbucks.
If her latte settled Elizabeth’s schedule anxiety, it also had another side effect – in a shocking turn of events, our first stop of the day wasn’t going to be because I needed to go to the bathroom, but vice versa. By that time, I’d driven past the Kansas line through a brilliant sunrise and fulfilled Elizabeth’s request by getting through some mind-numbing I-35 construction. Still, even with another bathroom stop in Salina, it was rapidly becoming clear that the worry over behind behind schedule was unfounded; Fuzzy’s in Hays opened for business at 11:00, which was pretty much exactly when the GPS had us getting there. The highlight of the mid-morning drive was the long-awaited reveal of my Nolan And Elizabeth Playlist, a chronological list of songs from some moment in our relationship. With at least one song in each month we’d been together, this playlist was a true labor of love that I’d worked on all summer. We sang along to the 2016 and 2017 bangers and enjoyed each other’s company on a sunny summer day.
As it turned out, 5:46 was literally the perfect time to leave that morning. We pulled into the Fuzzy’s parking lot at 10:59 a.m, having made blazing time through central Kansas. I didn’t know that any single Fuzzy’s could look much different from another, but this one definitely looked different than the Norman one. Even weirder, my refried beans came in a cup instead of on the plate. Weirdest of all was my constant sniffling and headache. I just didn’t feel good. It’s easy with hindsight to realize that a) A truly horrid allergy season was just beginning, b) I’d been in a car all morning on a sunny day, and c) I was nervous but the incoming proposal, but I was honestly sort of worried that I was bringing covid to all of our families. With that said, we sat outside to contain my paranoia.
Back on the road, I spent an almost-unbelievable amount of time on the drive to Colby trying to figure out how to mount my GoPro on the new dashcam mount I’d purchased. I’ll admit it, this was not one of my more big-brain moments. After about half an hour of *mounting* frustration, I came to the conclusion that a GoPro can take upside down footage and it will export the right way up for you. Go figure. I immediately ran a scintillating timelapse of Kansas wheat fields to mask my embarrassment.
The High Plains of Kansas and Colorado reached new levels of mind-numbing boredom on this day. Sometimes, that stretch of 70 seems like the greatest place on the Plains, but not on this particular day. The highlights, so to speak, were the moment that I accidentally offended a station attendant at the Oasis on the Plains when I complained that this was the single slowest gas pump I’d ever seen (fact check: true), the abundance of plains sunflowers along the side of the highway everywhere, and the Frosty I got at Wendy’s in Limon. That’s it. Otherwise, it was a smoke-skied slog.
Elizabeth took back over at the wheel after Limon for her third shift of the day behind the wheel. Usually, this is an exciting stretch of the drive, because Limon lies on the Palmer Divide. As you climb up over Palmer, you get a great view of Pikes Peak and the rest of the Front Range behind us. Not on this day.
We weren’t treated to smokey glimpses of the Front Range until we were damn near along I-25. That highway itself turned out to be an ordeal, with construction near Fort Collins that wrought Elizabeth out. She asked for me to switch drivers as we approached the Wyoming line.
Alright. I’ve written 745 words about this trip, and most of them were complain-y. It’s pretty easy to read this and think “Well damn, Nolan, should have just flown”. But here’s the thing: I know that drive was a great day. The anticipation of what was coming up, having each other for company, listening to our playlist as we got closer and closer – sure, I wish I could just teleport straight to Grand Teton and not have to make the trip, but don’t get me wrong. We enjoy traveling.
With that said, my enjoyment of the travel aspect of the trip increased immensely after we’d cleared Fort Collins. Elizabeth cruised up 25 and back into more open country. We could strain and see murky ridgetops in the distance, but none of the accustomed awe-inspiring views of Rocky Mountain National Park. More importantly though, Elizabeth was about to get a new state.
How nice of the I-25 people to have a pulloff so you could take a picture with the sign, and it was only kind of terrifying to merge back on! I took the final driving shift into Laramie, Wyoming up I-80. Along the way, Elizabeth and I enjoyed the sights and scenes of the Laramie Range (including a highway peak elevation of well over 9,000 feet, easily the highest elevation we drove on the entire trip), saw the rocky area along the highway referred to as Vedezvous, and encountered one of the longest trains I’ve ever seen (this thing was miles long, with locomotives not only at the front but in the middle) snaking alongside the highway next to us. And then, finally, we were descending – down the other side of the range, so steep that I rode the brakes all the way into the broad valley that Laramie resides in. I coasted onto the main highway in town and pulled into the Hampton Inn. I got out, stretched, open the side door of the car to get out our meager luggage for the night, and took a deep breath. Mountain air. Warm, but not hot, even though it was late afternoon. Perfect.
