Making Covid Quarantine Look Easy - RV Life Day #16

What was I thinking? RV life for a family of six makes Covid-quarantine at home look easy. I’ll admit, I viewed traveling to national parks, visiting 10 states in 26 days and logging over 4800 miles with rose-colored glasses. Like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music I pictured us hiking Yosemite mountains and biking Glenwood Canyon along the Colorado River, in harmony. Other than the techno music from my son’s iPad game, the RV is barely humming on day 16 and the whine more plentiful than wine. 

RV life is even more confining without a working generator and air conditioning on the road. An $800 consolation prize concession from the RV owner no longer worth the inconvenience when forced to reroute and forgo simple pleasures like the Glenwood Hot Springs pool, unable to leave our barking Schnoodles to overheat in an RV. 

The novelty of hauling 30 pounds of panting tail uphill on bike (both ways) was beginning to wear off when Annie damn near accosted me on the Glenwood Springs, CO bike path. Practically sideswiping me next to the Colorado River rapids, Annie pulled out her iPhone beaming ear to ear and suggesting I could finance my younger two son’s college education with photos sessions of my cute dogs in bike baskets. I almost forgot about the boys whining as I posed my Schnoos for a video I hoped would go viral. Finally feeling appreciated, I thanked Annie for brightening my day and treated myself and the mutts to a mountain fresh river soak, while the boys splayed themselves out on a picnic bench as if dying of boredom. 

Inevitably, one of us is left behind when dogs are not allowed on trails. I took one for the team in Arches National Park. 

Solitary confinement more enjoyable than teens telling ‘Your Mamma’ jokes on the trail or whining how they are held captive, forced on an RV trip with no Xbox. 

Hiking in and out of Bryce Canyon the other day with my three sons, I noticed the red, orange and white layered 'Hoodoo' sedimentary rock structures reminded me of the sand art my kids made as children. 

"No, seriously boys," I said as we stood at Sunrise plateau, "don't they look like sand castles?"

"They look like your mamma," my 13-year-old piped in.

“Well that Hoodoo is giving you the middle finger,” I countered, “and me, a thumb’s up!” I said, pretending I could role with the punches. 

“Ok Boomer,” my 10-year-old replied. 

Taking a swig of my thermos, I regretted it didn’t pack a stronger punch to weather the journey as I was outnumbered, pelted by wet precipitation and dry complaints. I swear evading my iPhone camera was the only thing that kept my three sons hiking forward. Meanwhile, I tried to socially distance myself enough to enjoy the gorgeous three-mile hike through the canyon, appreciating the stark contrast of bright green bushes and pine tree roots holding on to the bright red orange rocks for dear life, like a mother cherishing moments that pass too quickly. 

“Hey boys, there can be flash floods through this arroyo if the rain gets too heavy,” I shouted ahead. 

“Your mom is an arroyo,” my 15-year-old said laughing. I had no choice but to chase him with my camera. 

I practiced meditative zen as the sun set over Bryce Canyon that evening. I’ve yet to find a more beautiful spot on earth! 

Tomorrow promises more wine than whine, onward Rocky Mountain high Colorado, we’re bound for Olympic City USA!