(Or - The Adventure: How not to drive 30 miles away from home)
We remembered that the exit on I-15 to go out to the Isle of Antelopes was near Clearfield. We knew it was going to be waaay past Bountiful!
As we were driving toward the freeway, Roni announced that she only had ¼ tank of gas. I asked her, “Well, where are you going to stop? There are no gas stations between here and the freeway if you take this road.” Roni replied, “There’s a place up north I like to go to – I like to buy their car washes.” So off we went in her snazzy, fast little car. Like me, (only even more), Roni likes to be the Fastest Girl on the Freeway. She got the car she has because it makes it so easy to be that girl. I wasn’t worried – she is a good driver, and it was great to be with her, a relief to be taking care of this task, and just wonderful not to be the driver. I drive fast because we haven’t invented teleportation yet. Roni drives fast because it’s fun.
We talked, talked, talked all the way – we hadn’t seen each other for about three whole weeks and had to catch up! So we almost missed the exit. I realized we were probably past Kaysville. I said, “Oh, shirt” – (OK – there was no ‘R’ in what I said) – “did we miss the exit? I forgot to look for anything that said ‘Antelope Island, thataway’.” Roni said she wasn’t sure, she didn’t think so. Then we saw a sign that said ‘Freeport Center’. I said, “Oh! I think I remember having to exit where it said ‘Freeport Center!” Roni replied that was true, and off we went. (Just for clarification, it is Exit 332).
As we drove west, we talked some more. I told her a woman I used to work with who was from the east coast had told me that the best pizza you could find in the west was along this road. So we decided to look for it, even though I didn’t know what it was called or where it was. Amazingly, the area has changed a great deal since I was out there last. Twelve years, remember? Lots of franchises have gone up in the neighborhood. Needless to say, we didn’t find the pizza shop.
There was a good amount of traffic, and some yicky road construction. But on we drove, and on we drove. And on. We remembered that there used to be an onion farm along that road oh, so long ago. I didn’t notice any farms this time. I also remember that last time out there, we got stuck behind a tractor driving down the road at about ought-7 MPH. Thankfully, this time there were no tractors, and the road no longer looked like you would even find tractors on it. The modern world has arrived here, 25 years behind, just like the gag says.
We finally were approaching a little building sitting in the middle of the road; it looked like maybe it was the entrance to Antelope Island State Park. There were people dressed like rangers or something – you know – official forest-looking uniforms. We told them we just
wanted to check out the area so we could decide where we wanted to reserve, but they made us pay anyway, so Roni flipped out her American Express card. We got a brochure/map of the area and off we drove. We passed a location not very far from the entrance station that looked a bit familiar, maybe - it had a pavilion or two and showers and restrooms, but they had said they don’t reserve that, so I figured it must not be what we were looking for. We noticed that the lake was pretty far from the parking lots, much farther than we remembered it.
We drove on some more. We didn’t really see anything else that looked like the area we used to go to, but we were having a good time and just drove on. Yeah – the lake was down much farther than I had seen it in maybe 25 or more years. After a long while, we decided we had taken a wrong turn or something, so back we went. Ah-ha! – turn here – oh, see, follow that sign, let’s see where that takes us. We followed the road for quite a bit longer, and ended up at a ‘campground’ – it said so on our map. But I could only see lots of brush and sand and a surface similar to what you see at the Bonneville Salt Flats – and no structures. And the lake was really, really far away. We started to turn around and we saw some buffalo very close,
kind of surrounding our turn-around area. Or bison. I really don’t know the difference. (If my son Nate reads this, perhaps he can update my knowledge base). We stopped there for several minutes to see if they would do anything interesting. They just looked back at us or ignored us completely, so we decided to go. Those puppies are BIG, though.
On our way back to the entrance station we realized two things: 1) We had forgotten to stop at Roni’s favorite gas station in the Bountiful area, and 2) it was a whole lot farther back to the entrance station than we realized. Oh-oh. I’m riding along, having a serious anxiety issue in my solar plexus; Roni is, as usual, calm, serene, with that Mona Lisa look she has. Actually, you almost never really know what Roni is thinking.
As we neared the entrance station, we saw the area with the pavilions and great parking lots again, and stopped in the middle of the road to scope it out. I said, “After seeing everything out here, I am positive this is the place we used to reserve. We need to have the covered area, especially for Mother.” So, we went back to the entrance station, parked in the lot on the other side of the road, and went in to ask questions. The lady there was very nice – I think her name was Amber or Amanda. She said someone had told her they used to reserve the pavilion area but did not do that any longer; it was on a first-come, first-served basis.
I said, “We really need this covered area. I think we’ll take a chance and have the reunion here.” Amanda said, “Well, if you do use the pavilions, you will have to allow others who want to be there to use them.” I said, “We will come early – as soon as the park opens. If others want to brave our screaming masses, they are welcome to join us.” Temporarily, of course - I mean, who would want to be adopted into a family of 200?
So, now we had to get to a gas station on the fumes we had left after our long drive. Roni still wanted to go to her favorite station and felt confident that her magic car would make it. Me: still feeling the solar plexus issue; Roni: still Mona Lisa. (She also drove a little slower to conserve any remaining drops of fuel. Amazing how that works.) We did make it to the gas station just fine. The trip answered questions and we were able to finally plan the family reunion.
So, now it is planned. I have told all my 8 living sisters and asked them to inform their children. I’m not sure that happened, since I had a few nieces ask what was up as far as date and place, kind of important if we all intend to show up at the same time. Well, then, here’s the scoop - the reunion is at Antelope Island State Park, on Saturday, August 14. All day, basically. It is Exit 332. Head west for about a bizillion miles until you get to the little entrance shack. There is a fee – I think it is $9.00 per vehicle, so it might be smart to pack it with people. Also, The fewer cars there, the better. Parking is limited. I won’t quite say ‘minimal’, but if all 200 of us plus cousins (of the original 10 girls) showed up, it would help out with the parking situation. This is potluck. Grandma thinks it would be fun to stay all day so bring enough food for probably two meals. Lots of times we like to trade or share food.
Don’t forget your sunscreen, plenty of water, and your sense of adventure. You might also want to bring towels or blankets, and chairs, and don’t forget your camera or video recorder. Someone will be there as soon as the park opens.
I remember when my kids were still little, certain (unnamed) brothers who were married to certain sisters were throwing bread or something about 6 feet over the heads of the little kids and laughing uproariously as the seagulls dived for the morsels. I wonder what great games and adventures the younger generation will come up with this year. This is gonna be fun!
We remembered that the exit on I-15 to go out to the Isle of Antelopes was near Clearfield. We knew it was going to be waaay past Bountiful!
As we were driving toward the freeway, Roni announced that she only had ¼ tank of gas. I asked her, “Well, where are you going to stop? There are no gas stations between here and the freeway if you take this road.” Roni replied, “There’s a place up north I like to go to – I like to buy their car washes.” So off we went in her snazzy, fast little car. Like me, (only even more), Roni likes to be the Fastest Girl on the Freeway. She got the car she has because it makes it so easy to be that girl. I wasn’t worried – she is a good driver, and it was great to be with her, a relief to be taking care of this task, and just wonderful not to be the driver. I drive fast because we haven’t invented teleportation yet. Roni drives fast because it’s fun.
We talked, talked, talked all the way – we hadn’t seen each other for about three whole weeks and had to catch up! So we almost missed the exit. I realized we were probably past Kaysville. I said, “Oh, shirt” – (OK – there was no ‘R’ in what I said) – “did we miss the exit? I forgot to look for anything that said ‘Antelope Island, thataway’.” Roni said she wasn’t sure, she didn’t think so. Then we saw a sign that said ‘Freeport Center’. I said, “Oh! I think I remember having to exit where it said ‘Freeport Center!” Roni replied that was true, and off we went. (Just for clarification, it is Exit 332).
As we drove west, we talked some more. I told her a woman I used to work with who was from the east coast had told me that the best pizza you could find in the west was along this road. So we decided to look for it, even though I didn’t know what it was called or where it was. Amazingly, the area has changed a great deal since I was out there last. Twelve years, remember? Lots of franchises have gone up in the neighborhood. Needless to say, we didn’t find the pizza shop.
There was a good amount of traffic, and some yicky road construction. But on we drove, and on we drove. And on. We remembered that there used to be an onion farm along that road oh, so long ago. I didn’t notice any farms this time. I also remember that last time out there, we got stuck behind a tractor driving down the road at about ought-7 MPH. Thankfully, this time there were no tractors, and the road no longer looked like you would even find tractors on it. The modern world has arrived here, 25 years behind, just like the gag says.
We finally were approaching a little building sitting in the middle of the road; it looked like maybe it was the entrance to Antelope Island State Park. There were people dressed like rangers or something – you know – official forest-looking uniforms. We told them we just
wanted to check out the area so we could decide where we wanted to reserve, but they made us pay anyway, so Roni flipped out her American Express card. We got a brochure/map of the area and off we drove. We passed a location not very far from the entrance station that looked a bit familiar, maybe - it had a pavilion or two and showers and restrooms, but they had said they don’t reserve that, so I figured it must not be what we were looking for. We noticed that the lake was pretty far from the parking lots, much farther than we remembered it.We drove on some more. We didn’t really see anything else that looked like the area we used to go to, but we were having a good time and just drove on. Yeah – the lake was down much farther than I had seen it in maybe 25 or more years. After a long while, we decided we had taken a wrong turn or something, so back we went. Ah-ha! – turn here – oh, see, follow that sign, let’s see where that takes us. We followed the road for quite a bit longer, and ended up at a ‘campground’ – it said so on our map. But I could only see lots of brush and sand and a surface similar to what you see at the Bonneville Salt Flats – and no structures. And the lake was really, really far away. We started to turn around and we saw some buffalo very close,
kind of surrounding our turn-around area. Or bison. I really don’t know the difference. (If my son Nate reads this, perhaps he can update my knowledge base). We stopped there for several minutes to see if they would do anything interesting. They just looked back at us or ignored us completely, so we decided to go. Those puppies are BIG, though.On our way back to the entrance station we realized two things: 1) We had forgotten to stop at Roni’s favorite gas station in the Bountiful area, and 2) it was a whole lot farther back to the entrance station than we realized. Oh-oh. I’m riding along, having a serious anxiety issue in my solar plexus; Roni is, as usual, calm, serene, with that Mona Lisa look she has. Actually, you almost never really know what Roni is thinking.
As we neared the entrance station, we saw the area with the pavilions and great parking lots again, and stopped in the middle of the road to scope it out. I said, “After seeing everything out here, I am positive this is the place we used to reserve. We need to have the covered area, especially for Mother.” So, we went back to the entrance station, parked in the lot on the other side of the road, and went in to ask questions. The lady there was very nice – I think her name was Amber or Amanda. She said someone had told her they used to reserve the pavilion area but did not do that any longer; it was on a first-come, first-served basis.
I said, “We really need this covered area. I think we’ll take a chance and have the reunion here.” Amanda said, “Well, if you do use the pavilions, you will have to allow others who want to be there to use them.” I said, “We will come early – as soon as the park opens. If others want to brave our screaming masses, they are welcome to join us.” Temporarily, of course - I mean, who would want to be adopted into a family of 200?
So, now we had to get to a gas station on the fumes we had left after our long drive. Roni still wanted to go to her favorite station and felt confident that her magic car would make it. Me: still feeling the solar plexus issue; Roni: still Mona Lisa. (She also drove a little slower to conserve any remaining drops of fuel. Amazing how that works.) We did make it to the gas station just fine. The trip answered questions and we were able to finally plan the family reunion.
So, now it is planned. I have told all my 8 living sisters and asked them to inform their children. I’m not sure that happened, since I had a few nieces ask what was up as far as date and place, kind of important if we all intend to show up at the same time. Well, then, here’s the scoop - the reunion is at Antelope Island State Park, on Saturday, August 14. All day, basically. It is Exit 332. Head west for about a bizillion miles until you get to the little entrance shack. There is a fee – I think it is $9.00 per vehicle, so it might be smart to pack it with people. Also, The fewer cars there, the better. Parking is limited. I won’t quite say ‘minimal’, but if all 200 of us plus cousins (of the original 10 girls) showed up, it would help out with the parking situation. This is potluck. Grandma thinks it would be fun to stay all day so bring enough food for probably two meals. Lots of times we like to trade or share food.
Don’t forget your sunscreen, plenty of water, and your sense of adventure. You might also want to bring towels or blankets, and chairs, and don’t forget your camera or video recorder. Someone will be there as soon as the park opens.
I remember when my kids were still little, certain (unnamed) brothers who were married to certain sisters were throwing bread or something about 6 feet over the heads of the little kids and laughing uproariously as the seagulls dived for the morsels. I wonder what great games and adventures the younger generation will come up with this year. This is gonna be fun!
Love you all.
Victoria J Mecham
They are properly called Bison (Bison bison) and are not true buffalo, though they are commonly called American Buffalo. I rather think that only a taxonomist would really care which of these names you used in reference to this most delicious of beasts!
ReplyDeleteAh, you are so funny! Your story reminds me of the "If you give a mouse a cookie, {moose a muffinetc...}books. It sounds like adventure finds you no matter where you go.
ReplyDeleteJen
I said in the post that one can never really know what Roni is thinking. But I've gotten fairly good at seeing a certain (dry) expression on her face and knowing she is either thinking about or about to participate in some mischief making. VJM
ReplyDeleteP.S. Nate - thanks.