So, it’s been weeks since I started this story. I should have known it was going to be hard to jump into life, but the Optimist in me had the Realist on mute. But here I am again, trying to remember what happened just a few short weeks ago, back when we left Ohio to travel west like pioneers.
The plan was to get started at 8 am on Monday morning, drive like wild-women through to Wisconsin, and camp with tents and camp fires and marshmellows.
Chicago was our major stumbling block. We tried to go straight through on the skyway route.
Never again. It was at a standstill at some points so that it was actually not insane for me to take this picture from the driver’s seat:
Once we got going again, we were two hours behind schedule and putting up a tent would have been a really poor plan. The sun was going down, the mosquitos were thick, and the food was not yet eaten. So my mom and I decided to grab some coffee, some Subway, and drive as far into the night as we could. We’d made it to highway 90, so it was a straight shot. All we had to monitor was the gas tank and not falling asleep.
I drove the first shift, going from 7:30 to midnight into Minnesota. There was nothing to see there but stars and a few semi-trucks. Mom dozed in the passenger seat and the kids and dog all snoozed in the back. Around 11 or so there was an electrical storm in distance and I struggled to keep my eyes on the road, squelching the temptation to watch the lightning dance from the sky to Earth, over and over like a blue devil. I wish I could have taken a photo. I want to remember that forever.
We grabbed a few ZZZs at a rest stop with the doors locked and the seats laid back. Then we woke, switched seats and Mom drove the next three hour shift until the sun began to rise but we were too tired to keep going. We pulled into another rest area, right near the border of South Dakota, and really zonked out. Olivia was awake in the back, reading to herself while the rest of us slept. When we finally awoke at 7am or 8, we made coffee in my electric kettle in the rest area and brushed teeth and changed clothes. It was not the cleanliest day of my life…
That first marathon burst of driving was exhausting, but was a blessing in disguise, because it afforded us the time to stop a little bit out of the way (read: 3 hours) at the home of Laura Ingalls in De Smet, South Dakota. I’ll stop here for tonight, but look for some awesome photos and a great story about the Dakota stretch in the next couple of days!Â