We drove west on I-90 until we got to Whitehall, Mt. I figured with the bus topping out at 60 mph (and then dropping to 45 in any area with hills) it would be better for us to stay on back roads for a majority of the trip home. We weren’t in a rush since I had cancelled our campsite at Glacier National Park. I planned to take our time to Twin Falls, ID. We made great time cruising MT hwy 51, slow and steady on I-15, then easily cruising on ID hwy 26. At one point we were stuck at a traffic revision on hwy 26 which resulted in only one lane. Stone napped while I sat in the driver seat. We had no AC. It smelled like cow shit. And there were flies. So many flies. I cut the engine and rolled down the windows. Sometimes you have to just deal with what transpires on the road, even if it’s not the most comfortable.
This route however, took us past scenic farmland, rolling hills, and we got to watch the full sunset from behind the windshield. But farmland and cattle country also meant washing the windshield every time we stopped.
I found us a small camp site (Oregon Trails Campgrounds) off I-84, south of Twin Falls. We paid for a car camping spot for $8, essentially a step above a walk in tent site. I set up the pop top for the night, boiled water for our dehydrated pasta meal, and collected water from the nearby pump. The flies were everywhere. In late August, the temps are still pretty high in Idaho. Plus we were located next to a few friendly cows. Stone LOVED them, but they also came with pesky neighboring bugs.
We ate our food, got into our pajamas, and watched Space Jam before falling asleep. Since there was no fear of bears or wolves, we slept with the top open and our screened windows open. The fresh, cool air was marvelous after sweating through the drive.
The next morning I packed up camp as usual and went to start up the Westy to let her warm up. Nothing. My instant thought was the battery although we didn’t leave any lights on and the only items I charged overnight were my phone and my iPad. Both of those shouldn’t have drawn enough electricity to kill the battery. Regardless, I asked the camp owners if they could give me a jump. Westfalias have their battery under the front passenger seat. It takes a bit of work to uncover it. You have to push the seat as far forward as possible then lift the carpet and unscrew the top plastic cover. We started up as soon as the jumper cables were connected. I figured that we would drive 30 minutes to help charge the battery and get gas at the next town.
We stopped at a large gas station 20 minutes outside of Boise. I got gas, bought a coffee and took Stone to the bathroom. Once again, tried to start the van and it was dead. I knew something was wrong. I got another jump from one of the attendants at the gas station and he wished us luck. While the van was running, I looked up the closest auto parts store, an O’Reilly’s in Boise. And I did something ill advised. I texted my ex. He’s a VW fanatic, and I thought he could give me some insight into what could be happening. But that text ultimately was stress inducing.
We made it to the parts store, and I left the van running so we could do a battery test. The battery was holding a charge and the voltage appeared low but working. I shut off the van and tried to start it again. Nothing. Stone and I walked to a nearby grocery store so we could have a break and get lunch. This is when the stress began. That text message led to dozens of phone calls, an all call on Facebook that I wasn’t expecting, and a plethora of options that were all different and conflicting. I just wanted to sit. And I wanted air conditioning. And a cold beverage.
I decided to take the battery out and give it a charge to see if maybe it was low on juice. We walked back to O’Reilly’s and I began taking the battery out. But every step of the process was difficult. To get the battery out, you simply rotate the seat 90 degrees, uncover, then unhook the terminals and pull it out. Easy. Except the seat rotation was stuck. The battery had a safety lock. The space to wiggle my hands in was nonexistent. And it was fucking 100 degrees outside.
Stone really was the MVP for the entire day. He missed his nap. He was sweaty. Mom cursed A LOT. I had to take the entire passenger seat out which mean unbolting everything. I pushed the seat off the track and threw it in the back, unbolted the rotation system, uncovered the battery, tore apart the locking system, and destroyed my hands getting the battery out. I was sweating every where. Drenched. It stung my eyes and dripped everywhere. A random man bought Stone a bottle of water in the store. He had been running around on the sidewalk. We probably looked like a hot mess.
I got the battery inside and a guy hooked it up to their charging system. It would take an least an hour for it to charge. Stone and I sat in the corner of the store drinking water and watching Netflix. Then after all that work, the battery wasn’t the problem. I went through every troubleshooting solution I could imagine: terminals, neutral safety switch, fuses, wiring from the ignition to the battery to the starter. I was exhausted and defeated. I locked up the van and started looking at local VW specialist shops, knowing it would cost me.
Stone and I walked to Rockies Diner, a 1950s style burger joint with rock memorabilia everywhere. Even our waitress wore quad skates. Stone ate a massive cheeseburger and I ate his fries. The waitress assured us we could stay there as long as we needed and gave us water after water after water. I called different shops in Boise, trying to coordinate the best price with the soonest we could be seen. Then I called AAA to get information on my membership. I cannot say enough praise about having AAA when you drive a 30 year old vehicle. A man overheard my phone conversations while he was eating his dinner. Aside from he and us, the diner was empty. I took Stone to the restroom after he had finished to get him cleaned up. When we got back to out booth, the man paid his check and walked up to us. He gave me the name of a few shops to try out and handed me a $50 bill. I was so shocked that I’m sure my jaw was on the table. He refused to take it back, saying he knew we would pay it forward. I cried. Overwhelmed in a random diner in Boise.
I decided that I was fighting our predetermined destiny. We were meant to be in this spot despite how uncomfortable I felt. I found a shop with positive reviews. RMF – VW specialists on Amber Street. We walked back to O’Reilly’s to wait for our tow truck.
This is also the first time I really took a stand as a divorced woman. Prior, I had walked on eggshells around my ex trying to avoid any additional fall out or stress. Asking him for advice had turned into an all out rescue mission for him. NOT what I wanted or asked for. He had grandiose ideas of towing us back to WA with my truck, a venture that would have cost hundreds in gas alone. Not to mention the potential legal issues. I lost it. In front of Stone and God I ripped into him. The audacity. The lack of faith in my abilities as a mom and person infuriated me. He made me feel as though I could not make decisions for myself, that I was incapable of being my OWN rescue. That he had to call all the shots in my life. NOTHING will make you feel more cornered than someone taking away all your power. I stopped responding, instead focusing on lowering my stress, feeling hopeful and blessed to be safe, and being grateful for that man in the diner and his help.
That gratefulness created ripples. Our tow truck driver was friendly and knowledgeable. He laughed with Stone over his silly spirit. He refused to let me help insisting I take a break and stay inside where it was cool. And he drove us to a safe hotel after dropping off the van at RMF. He even went out of his way to call the shop owner to ensure we were first on the repair list the next day.
We checked into the hotel and watched tv. I gave Stone a bath, got a sprite and some candy from the vending machine, took a long shower, cried again, and wrote a bit about our day. I messaged my significant other to thank him for never doubting me or making me feel incapable. Goofy selfies and jokes changed my mood for the better. He helped to take my mind off the day before I fell asleep.
The next day, Stone and I had breakfast at the hotel before catching an Uber to the shop. I met Chuck and Brent, the mechanics in charge. Chuck was a vanagon/bus aficionado, owning a few himself and racking up quite a collection of loyal customers. He did a diagnostic test on my westy and determined that my starter was bad. The one thing I wasn’t able to check or replace. He called all over town to find a specific model for my van, of course an automatic 1989 would be a picky bitch. No one had one in stock anywhere near Boise. He then got to work trying to “rebuild” my starter which involved replacing selenoids, wires, brushes, plungers. He got it to work and got the bus to start. But then other parts wouldn’t retract.
It took him an entire days worth of work. Stone and I wandered around Overland Blvd and the surrounding areas. We went to a park to color and play. We ate a random lunch of small pancakes, fruit, and whip cream. It was still way to hot. We walked back to RMF. I had a sad feeling we wouldn’t be driving Sweet Cream home.
The good news was that I learned my bus battery was good (and normally runs at a lower voltage when idling) and I had no strange electrical draws anywhere. All my other systems were just fine. He was also impressed that I had known the change the fuel lines before our trip. And she had attracted a few fans while in the garage.
Chuck and I called it around 4pm. He then decided to let me know he was still recovering from open heart surgery (ok superman) and had no other options but to wait for a new starter. I told him to order the Bosch even if it would take 5 business days. If we were gonna replace parts, we might as well get the best ones we could get. Chuck offered to drive Stone and me to the airport to get a rental car for me to drive back home. After all the ups and downs of our trip, I was ready to be back in my own home, in my own bed. I took only what I thought I would need and packed it into the bags we had. Everything else I locked up in cabinets and drawers in the van. I locked her up and handed Chuck the key.
We loaded up into his Jetta coupe – crammed into a small car with no AC. VW theme here. I should probably tell you that my past years in the car scene has left me with this kinda useless ability to identify cars. Specifically German ones….down to their generation and production location. Did you know the first digit in your VIN is the code for the country in which it was built? Yeah. No one needs to know those things, but I do. As we drove away, I was assured the westy would be locked up and safe until I could return to get her. He also let me know I could leave her there as long as possible since we didn’t know what the future would hold. His car was quirky, as I would expect from any mechanic. It buzzed randomly. It was full of electrical “piccadillos”. It was very familiar. I told him about a late 80s Jetta coupe I had with a short shifter. He seemed impressed. I guess it’s not often you meet a solo travelling mom that can talk cars. We talked about diesel motors, vanagons, camping destinations, family, and beer.
By the time we got to the airport, Stone was sweaty and passed out. In the biggest moment of letting go, I had Chuck wait with Stone by the car while I took everything into the airport. I had probably 0.0007 seconds of thinking “this dude could really just take off with my kid”. But your gut isn’t shit for brains. It knows things you don’t. And even though people would say I’m insane for doing that, my gut told me he was good people. A true rarity today.
After getting all our belongings in a chair by the counters, I collected Stone and Chuck carried the carseat in for me. Stone was still sleeping as I gave Chuck a big hug and thanked him for everything. He apologized that he couldn’t do more. I just kept calling him our personal super hero for doing as much as he did. He drove away and I signed all the paperwork for a car. Stone slept the whole time.
I ended up with a Nissan Altima. New. Good gas mileage. Plenty of space. And most importantly, AC and heat! The drive from Idaho into Oregon via I-84 was full of construction on winding canyon roads. We stopped about an hour later to eat dinner. With the sunset, the temperature dropped substantially. I put Stone into his pajamas and drove to Pendleton for the night.
The next morning we were up quickly and I was ready to get going. I had only rented the car for a day so I needed to be back in Olympia, WA by 6pm. I left Stone in his pajamas and we hit the road. The drive back was pretty normal, following the Columbia Gorge to Portland then north on I-5. My friend Rachael met us at the rental hub and drove me to pick up my truck. I was relieved to be back home. That night I decided to forego cooking one more time and got chicken enchiladas verdes from Ramirez for dinner. I was starving. Poor Stone only got like four bites out of three whole enchiladas.
A couple weeks later, I got a call from Chuck stating that the van was fixed and running. He still held onto his promise to take care of Sweet Cream until I could make it back to Boise. I debated flying vs driving. Honestly, with the amount of time it would take to drive to the airport, go through security, and wait to fly out, an 8 hour drive seemed like a breeze. I rented a car once again. When I went to pick it up, they upgraded me to a 2019 Ford Ranger – officially the fanciest truck I have ever driven. I grabbed the truck on a Thursday afternoon after work, packed up a weekend back, and grabbed Stone from daycare. We left that evening.
I drove as far as I could before getting tired. We ended up getting a hotel in Ontario, OR around 1am. It was less than an hour from Boise. I guess it ended up working out for the best though. We still had plenty of time the next morning to eat breakfast, drop off the rental, and catch an Uber to the shop.
We got to RMF and to my disbelief it was closed with a sign saying they would be closed the whole day. Panic started to set in but Chuck knew I was going to be in that Friday. I called him up and he was taking a lunch break. Even though the shop was closed, he was still working. Stone and I went to the Great Harvest Bread Co. next door to grab lunch. A super sweet lady bought Stone a massive cookie covered in frosting. We ate our lunch then walked to Grocery Outlet to grab Chuck some thank you beers. He had told me he’s an IPA fan. I picked out a promising brand and got two different flavors. Stone of course picked out the packaging with a bus on it. Perfect.
Chucked texted to let us know he was back. We walked back to the shop and met one of his friends who was hanging out for the day. My van had gotten a local fan club after sitting in Boise for a few weeks. We talked about how pristine my van is, how much weight I was probably carrying around (she’s a big girl), the routes I had been driving, and any future trips I had planned. Stone ran around the shop showing off his own bus, a replica 21 window deluxe, and rolling it around the ground. At one point he decided to dunk his hands in an oil drain pan. That’s my child….
We got our stuff ready to leave. I strapped in the car seat and got our things loaded into the bus. Thankfully all of our essentials were still there – camp stove, fire starters, nonperishable food, bedding. We were set. Chuck agreed to take a photo to document our little big adventure. Stone wanted to take a photo too. Chuck became our personal hero that day. I won’t say exactly how much this cost us but it was way less than what he should have charged us. Way less. We gave each other hugs and high fives, and started up the van. After giving the steering wheel a few hugs and words of encouragement, we got on I-84 west.
In Ontario, we turned off the freeway onto OR Hwy 20 then Hwy 26. I was still determined to stick with the back roads on our trip. As we drove, I silently wished we would have left earlier. Our route took us right to John Day Fossil Bed National Monument. The Fossil Beds Monument has a paleontology center, painted hills, and hiking trails. I didn’t mention it to Stone. I knew he would have been so excited to see more fossils and I didn’t want to disappoint if we didn’t make it in time.
We kept on driving into the Ochoco National Forest, our camp spot for the night. We ended up at the Ochoco Divide Campground, in a spot surrounded by Ponderosa Pine. We paid $13 for our spot, got some firewood, and set up camp. As usual, Stone explored the trees and helped me collect brush and kindling. We ate dinner and read some books by the fire before going to sleep.
It was so cold when I woke up the next morning. I started up the Westy while we did our morning routine so she could warm up. I also used a flathead screwdriver to move my heater handles in the hopes we could get some heat. Somehow I have never gotten the right handles for my heater controls so they are stuck behind the dash. I can see them but can’t touch them. As we started driving, I could feel heat pumping out of the heater channels and squealed for joy!
We continued on Hwy 26 to Prineville and on to Mt. Hood. Central Oregon surprised me with its beauty. Madras and Warm Springs in particular with their high desert colors and mountain views. At one point I could see Three Sisters, Mt. Jefferson, and Mt. Hood. We followed the highway up to Mt. Hood and traced the eastern side of its base.
Mt. Hood, also called the Wy’east by the Multnomah People, is the tallest peak in Oregon at 11,249 feet. As we made our way up in elevation, we could still see snow along the side of the road. Mt. Hood also is the only place that offers year round lift operated skiing. And “The Shining” with Jack Nicholson was filmed there.
Once we got past the Mt. Hood National Forest, we connected with I-84 at Hood River. About 32 miles west of Hood River you will find the famous Multnomah Falls. It is the tallest waterfall in Oregon at 620 feet. The falls attract over two million visitors a year making it one of the most visited sites in the PNW. This is also evident by how parking can be. We found a spot after circling the lot a few times. We then walked to the lodge and took a bathroom break before seeing the falls. Stone and I bought some Pika Poop (chocolate covered toffee not actual poop), and we made one of those flattened pennies you get by cranking a machine as a gift for someone back home.
We walked the short trail to the bridge of the falls. When you start out, you walk up a flight of stairs to the bottom viewing area. Most people congregate here and take selfies with the lower tier of the falls. You can continue on from here up a few quick switchbacks to a bridge that crosses the falls. When the water is really going, you can feel the cool spray of the falls. If you are down for a short but somewhat strenuous hike, the trail continues past the bridge and up for a mile of switchbacks. And I mean up. For a full mile. Once you get to the top there is a viewing platform to overlook the top of the falls. I have done the trail before without a toddler. Wasn’t trying to do it this day though. We just came for the view.
Additionally I should also note that the full trail to the top might be closed. As of today (3/6/2020), crews are still working to repair damage to this trail and surrounding trails from the Eagle Creek Fire in 2017. If you didn’t hear the news, a 15 year old started a brush fire by throwing fireworks into the gorge area. This ignited a 3 month long, 50,000 acre fire. 153 hikers were trapped and had to be rescued. There were hundreds of places evacuated. 600,000 hatchery fish had to be release 6 months early. Fire crews worked day and night to save historical structures, including the Multnomah Lodge. If you had to guess, you probably realize by now that I’m against fireworks in dry wooded areas. Thankfully I was able to hike some of the Columbia River Gorge trails that are now closed indefinitely.
After our brief visit, and eating all the Pika Poop, we kept on driving to Portland and eventually back home. Stone fell asleep on the drive offering me some quiet reflection time on a drive I was all too familiar with. We made it back home, and I was so happy to have Sweet Cream back in the driveway. The next day, we cleaned out any items in the bus that didn’t need to be there – clothes, food, bedding, etc. Stone helped me gather up the stickers we had been collecting from different parks and monuments. We stuck them onto the closet wall under the back hatch. And we still have space for many more.
