Sunday was an arduous but rewarding first day of the trip, consulting with Dan and Mel on what the trailer needed, driving terrified, filling the propane, purchasing the battery, setting up in the drizzly dark. We were so grateful to have them supporting and teaching us about their newly acquired trailer. We loved its protection from the rain and spaciousness and sense of "home base." But we were each internally questioning: Are the luxuries worth it? We spent a fun night camping with wine, Skip-Bo, and electricity. The next morning as we drove away, we verbalized those questions. We'd excitedly agreed to borrow a trailer we'd never seen, without remembering how much we love the ruggedness and (relative) ease of tent camping. Oh well, we thought. We were committed and sticking to the plan. About an hour later, I saw the trailer's tire blow out in the mirror.
Luckily we had a spare and we were safe. Unfortunately, neither vehicle roadside assistance nor trailer insurance was going to help us out. Long story short, two hours later we were driving NORTH after flagging down passerby cars for a bigger wrench and trying not to scream. (Oh wait there was some of that). We were pretty defeated but felt clear on one thing: our plan was about to change.
Dan and Mel graciously put the trailer back in storage and put enchiladas in our bellies. We even laughed a little bit and felt the accepting embrace of family. Lending us that trailer was an incredible gift but we had to test drive it to realize a few things. We knew it was too big for our car, too much for this trip's vision, and potentially beyond what we could handle.
24 hours later, we sat together at my family's cabin on Camano Island, 500 miles north of where we intended to be on Tuesday night. After a flurry of discussion and with help from my dad (the most proactive problem solver I've ever known) we had arranged to rent a teardrop trailer from a lady in Sedro Woolley for 90 days.
I've dreamed of building a teardrop. They are simply a bed on wheels. No set-up required, just open the door and crawl in. Suddenly we had the ability to camp anywhere and avoid those "let's just go to a motel" moments. Our trailer vision was coming in more clearly. A tent was possible, but was it pleasurable? We decided to take the plunge and make this the trip of a lifetime. Rain, cold, snow, bring it on!
Here's where we breathe deep and say thank you. To all friends and family for encouragement. To second go arounds. To the two kind souls who halted their journey to Eugene to help us on the side of the road. To Carol and Jerry for a lovely send off and reminding us not to be heroes. A very special thank you to Dan and Mel for riding that wave with us and not crying over spilt milk. I love your friendship. And to my parents: the king of planning and the queen of letting shit go (whether it's a change of plans or literal junk). We wouldn't be here without your contagious positive attitudes and support.
As I write on Wednesday, we are back on I-5 pushing towards southern Oregon with the teardrop in tow. And more good news: after a call with Jim Lutz at Utah State, Brian and I are both employed starting in April as field technicians studying fire effects! Rarely before have I felt so much gratitude. Take two is off to a great start.