Travelogue
May. 31st, 2020 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mishadayOver a week ago, my mother had a health event (what exactly, we won't know), but I packed up my car and my cats and hoofed down to New Mexico.
I found out on Friday morning, and worked the day and had gaming that night. I won't swear I had the most productive day, but it did give me a chance to plan. I had thinks until the afternoon, when my brother's plea made the decision to go firm. I was leery enough about flying, and as I didn't know how long I'd be gone, and without a catsitter lined up, I decided to take my furballs with me and drive. I hadn't even realized that NM had imposed a 2 week quarantine on flyers - that would have been massively unhelpful.
My cats had only ever been in the car in carriers to the vet and back (and to the shelter and back, as far as I knew.) I dreaded hours of cries, and didn't want to keep them confined for the 22+ hours of driving. I had to buy litter and food anyway, so I carefully measured the back of my car and carefully perused the dimensions online, and purchased a large dog crate on Friday afternoon. It fits the back of my Forester... barely. Happily, this means that the interior fits both the litterbox and one of the two cat carriers, so I just need to shove the one carrier in, cat and all, and only ever need to extract one cat from the other carrier into the cage.
Of course, having given them ample room to spread out and view the passing scenery from a ledge above the litterbox, or just lay in front of the cage near me... they both spent most of their time in the carrier. At various points, both of them were in the one small carrier - I hadn't even realized both would FIT. Contrary beasties. This did come in handy a time or two, however.
The first day I made it across 90 to Ellensburg, and then striking diagonally down to Oregon through Yakima and the Tri Cities. I had just reached Oregon when my car-tastrophe hit. The car started vibrating badly, and it was the cat complaints after hours of silence, combined with a handy rest area that made me pull over. I couldn't SEE anything wrong, but something certainly was, and a quick search on my phone informed me that it was likeliest to be tire issues. Happily, there was the same tire store brand not five miles from the rest stop. Whew!
Three of my tires had separated, so that was fun. Six years previously I had gone cheap on the tires, not expecting to do much driving, so they weren't covered under warranty. So that was an unforseen expense and time loss, but happenstance had landed me in a pretty convenient place for the incident, and the cats had obliged me by both being in the carrier at the same time, so I only had to haul 25 pounds of cat into the waiting area while they changed out all my tires. (This next set is warranted for 60k miles. I haven't even put that many miles on my car since I bought it 15 years back.)
With the late start and the tire incident, I didn't make it to Boise (my best bet for a cluster of hotels that might allow cats) until almost 9. And then I made the mistake of clicking from the hotel app to the map app and not double-checking the address. So instead of my phone gps delivering me to my hotel, I ended up in the center of downtown Boise. Whoops.
I finally ended up near the airport, only to find out that the gps again lied, and compounding the issue, the street it was trying to direct me down was under construction. Finally, in the dark, thoroughly exhausted, I made it and checked in. The cats hid as best they could, while I collapsed. They came out in the night to get pets and water and use the litterbox. (They both didn't eat much the entire trip, which was a little concerning, but their appetites have since returned)
The next morning I managed a jog around the business park/residential area near the airport hotel cluster. When I returned to pack up, I faced cat-astrophe. Little Darlene had managed to squirm under the boxspring into the bed base. Naturally, faced with two beds to strip, move the mattress and lift the boxspring, I chose the wrong bed first. Then once I had gotten the right bed, Mocha decides that this must be an interesting hiding place he should check out as well. I did put things back save for all the bedding, and left the staff a good tip.
Idaho was lovely, with open empty roads, and I finally remembered two major keys to successful long road trips: cruise control and an audiobook.
Then I hit Utah. I would like to state for the record that I cordially despise Salt Lake City. The roads are horrible, and the construction makes it worse: everyone is still goin 80 miles an hour over roads where the lines are drawn in by toddlers, and Nothing is open on a Sunday. To crown my distaste, I was having a craving for Panera for lunch, and my gps informed me the closest one was a hundred miles back in Pocatello, ID. A subsequent search (because why would I trust the gps after the night previous?) proved it right for once, no Panera at all in Utah. Heathens.
After dealing with SLC, I didn't think I'd make the marathon drive all the way to Albuquerque. The last leg would be through the Navajo nation, with few services and quarantine firmly in place. I didn't want to manage that in the dark. I had considered Moab a good stopping point for the night, until I thought about ALL the RVs I'd seen on the road, and parked in various camping sites along the way. It was Memorial Day weekend, and the hotel sites were not showing me anything in Moab that would allow me the cats.
I set Dad to find me a place for the night and kept driving. Green River is a not-very grand sort of place off I-70, but it did have a business cut-off and a little cluster of motels and service stations. Even an hour out of Moab, the parking lot was full of cars and trucks with bicycles and off-road motorcycles. I checked the bed before I let the cats out that night: not enough give around the edge of the box spring for my little contortionist to maneuver under. It didn't have a good place to walk or jog the next morning, but I was eager to get on the road and finish my journey.
Moab, as I drove through that morning, was PACKED. All the hotel parking lots looked full, and it felt crowded. Past Moab, the road emptied of cars, and I made it into New Mexico at last. This last leg was the shortest, and I didn't dally; even skipped lunch so I could arrive at my parent's house a little before 3. My appetite had been almost as poor as my cats the entire trip.
I found out on Friday morning, and worked the day and had gaming that night. I won't swear I had the most productive day, but it did give me a chance to plan. I had thinks until the afternoon, when my brother's plea made the decision to go firm. I was leery enough about flying, and as I didn't know how long I'd be gone, and without a catsitter lined up, I decided to take my furballs with me and drive. I hadn't even realized that NM had imposed a 2 week quarantine on flyers - that would have been massively unhelpful.
My cats had only ever been in the car in carriers to the vet and back (and to the shelter and back, as far as I knew.) I dreaded hours of cries, and didn't want to keep them confined for the 22+ hours of driving. I had to buy litter and food anyway, so I carefully measured the back of my car and carefully perused the dimensions online, and purchased a large dog crate on Friday afternoon. It fits the back of my Forester... barely. Happily, this means that the interior fits both the litterbox and one of the two cat carriers, so I just need to shove the one carrier in, cat and all, and only ever need to extract one cat from the other carrier into the cage.
Of course, having given them ample room to spread out and view the passing scenery from a ledge above the litterbox, or just lay in front of the cage near me... they both spent most of their time in the carrier. At various points, both of them were in the one small carrier - I hadn't even realized both would FIT. Contrary beasties. This did come in handy a time or two, however.
The first day I made it across 90 to Ellensburg, and then striking diagonally down to Oregon through Yakima and the Tri Cities. I had just reached Oregon when my car-tastrophe hit. The car started vibrating badly, and it was the cat complaints after hours of silence, combined with a handy rest area that made me pull over. I couldn't SEE anything wrong, but something certainly was, and a quick search on my phone informed me that it was likeliest to be tire issues. Happily, there was the same tire store brand not five miles from the rest stop. Whew!
Three of my tires had separated, so that was fun. Six years previously I had gone cheap on the tires, not expecting to do much driving, so they weren't covered under warranty. So that was an unforseen expense and time loss, but happenstance had landed me in a pretty convenient place for the incident, and the cats had obliged me by both being in the carrier at the same time, so I only had to haul 25 pounds of cat into the waiting area while they changed out all my tires. (This next set is warranted for 60k miles. I haven't even put that many miles on my car since I bought it 15 years back.)
With the late start and the tire incident, I didn't make it to Boise (my best bet for a cluster of hotels that might allow cats) until almost 9. And then I made the mistake of clicking from the hotel app to the map app and not double-checking the address. So instead of my phone gps delivering me to my hotel, I ended up in the center of downtown Boise. Whoops.
I finally ended up near the airport, only to find out that the gps again lied, and compounding the issue, the street it was trying to direct me down was under construction. Finally, in the dark, thoroughly exhausted, I made it and checked in. The cats hid as best they could, while I collapsed. They came out in the night to get pets and water and use the litterbox. (They both didn't eat much the entire trip, which was a little concerning, but their appetites have since returned)
The next morning I managed a jog around the business park/residential area near the airport hotel cluster. When I returned to pack up, I faced cat-astrophe. Little Darlene had managed to squirm under the boxspring into the bed base. Naturally, faced with two beds to strip, move the mattress and lift the boxspring, I chose the wrong bed first. Then once I had gotten the right bed, Mocha decides that this must be an interesting hiding place he should check out as well. I did put things back save for all the bedding, and left the staff a good tip.
Idaho was lovely, with open empty roads, and I finally remembered two major keys to successful long road trips: cruise control and an audiobook.
Then I hit Utah. I would like to state for the record that I cordially despise Salt Lake City. The roads are horrible, and the construction makes it worse: everyone is still goin 80 miles an hour over roads where the lines are drawn in by toddlers, and Nothing is open on a Sunday. To crown my distaste, I was having a craving for Panera for lunch, and my gps informed me the closest one was a hundred miles back in Pocatello, ID. A subsequent search (because why would I trust the gps after the night previous?) proved it right for once, no Panera at all in Utah. Heathens.
After dealing with SLC, I didn't think I'd make the marathon drive all the way to Albuquerque. The last leg would be through the Navajo nation, with few services and quarantine firmly in place. I didn't want to manage that in the dark. I had considered Moab a good stopping point for the night, until I thought about ALL the RVs I'd seen on the road, and parked in various camping sites along the way. It was Memorial Day weekend, and the hotel sites were not showing me anything in Moab that would allow me the cats.
I set Dad to find me a place for the night and kept driving. Green River is a not-very grand sort of place off I-70, but it did have a business cut-off and a little cluster of motels and service stations. Even an hour out of Moab, the parking lot was full of cars and trucks with bicycles and off-road motorcycles. I checked the bed before I let the cats out that night: not enough give around the edge of the box spring for my little contortionist to maneuver under. It didn't have a good place to walk or jog the next morning, but I was eager to get on the road and finish my journey.
Moab, as I drove through that morning, was PACKED. All the hotel parking lots looked full, and it felt crowded. Past Moab, the road emptied of cars, and I made it into New Mexico at last. This last leg was the shortest, and I didn't dally; even skipped lunch so I could arrive at my parent's house a little before 3. My appetite had been almost as poor as my cats the entire trip.
