Bye Friends

I was up early to get back to work and after whacking the keys a little, Dad was up and got straight into readying the van. Both Katy and I had meetings at 9:30am so it meant our brunch at Roy’s was a late one. We got there just before the breakfast menu was swapped for lunch. Andrea had stayed behind so it was just the Concours team sitting in the sun enjoying the pristine views. I happily sipped a mimosa while Dave chowed into a bloody mary and we all took our sweet time. No one really wanted this to end.

Back at the house, Dad had prepped the van beautifully so we were ready to get back on the road. I managed to hold back tears this time, but only just, as I hugged my great friends goodbye. Dad drove us out of Pebble Beach and I said what was becoming a familiar phrase, “How good was that?”

Having just come from the east, we were heading back in the same direction. I worked a little as Dad drove us through Gilroy. I was taking a meeting in motion when we came into Merced to do a shop. It was my turn to drive then as we ventured along highway 140 towards Yosemite National Park. Sadly, we saw evidence of a recent fire as we approached the south entrance.

We paid our $35 to enter the park but thankfully this was the first day after Summer that a reservation wasn’t required just to drive through. Being a Monday, there was a tonne of traffic coming out of the park so we had the beautiful drive up through Tuolumne Meadows mostly to ourselves.

The drive through the upper part of Yosemite was much longer than I remembered and we didn’t come to the east exit until 7pm. It was way past camp time, but the slow-setting Summer sun made it a beautiful time of day.

Dad was onto it again with his memory for past camps and he spotted the pullout on the right of the winding descent from Yosemite. I turned around and we were disappointed to find there were two campers already occupying the pullout. When we’d last been here, Ramsie was skinny enough to slip past some strategically placed boulders to go further into the forest but Berta didn’t have a chance. We pushed on.

At the bottom of the hill, there were three campgrounds by the river and we pulled into the closest option that had plenty of room and a great level camp just for us. Being at 9,000 ft, the night cooled off quickly so we were happy to scrounge up some driftwood for a fire.

Still full from Roy’s we only needed a light snack for dinner and we had a good heart-to-heart chat by the fire. We watched the moon rise over the pines and marveled at how brightly it lit up the cliff by the road.

The Long Drive East

It was bloody freezing in the morning but we were in shorts and t-shirt by 9am thanks to the bright California sun. I finished work at 10am then we hit the road. We’d have a similar routine for the next three days as we drove across the country.

As soon as we dipped into Nevada, trees and mountains became scarce and so we got into our podcasts. We listened to everything from car shows, F1 rants and money talk. There was a lot of “ok stop” where Dad or I would interject to discuss a point.

The Crescent Dunes Energy Project on the west side of Nevada had us guessing for a while. All we could see on the horizon was a bright spot and I soon figured out it was a solar farm with a twist. Instead of solar panels capturing energy from the sun and sending it somewhere, there was an array of mirrors on the ground all pointing to an absorber at the top of a tower resulting in the incredibly bright light and a tonne of heat. The heat was then used to generate energy. It was dangerous to look at the absorber in all its brightness. It made me wonder if there were safety mechanisms in place to prevent damage to your eyesight or if the hairs on your arm would burn if you put yourself between the mirrors and the tower.

We managed to stay on roads Dad hadn’t traveled before and most were new for me too. At the extra terrestrial highway, I was disappointed to find they were relaying the tarmac and so the natural grey-ish tan blend was replaced by dark black. It didn’t really add to the scenery.

Before getting too far along it, we came to a stop behind a couple in a Porsche at a lollipop man. They were out of their car so we did the same. They said we could expect to wait up to twenty minutes. The four of us got straight into chat mode, me with the woman, Dad with the man. It was a great way to pass a bit of time and we ended up having to cut our conversations short to get going.

With so much ground to cover with a time limit, we basically did a state each day. Our first night was spent on the east side of Nevada and while you’ll always find somewhere to camp in the state, it won’t necessarily be a nice spot. This was a perfect example of that but we perched ourselves on a sandy hill and called it good.

Once we crossed into Utah, we swapped Joshua trees for red rocks and I we stopped for work stints when meetings dictated it, whether it was a park or a pullout on the highway.

It was nice to leave the flats of Nevada behind and do some gentle climbing across Utah and while we both enjoyed what we were enjoying the driving and what we were listening to, we were always happy for our lunch stops just to get out and move. If there was a sign to read, well that was a bonus.

Having already had our major mechanical issue at the start of our journey, I was proud of Berta for the work she was doing. The only issue we had, as noticed by Dad’s keen eye, was a big chunk of a rear tyre had gone missing. We could see a bit of canvas but she was still holding air!

Our Utah camp was a late one and the site of our first real disagreement. Now, Dad and I don’t really “fight”, a disagreement looks more like each one trying to convince the other that their idea is better using logic and name-calling.

We’d found a spot with plenty of camp options and while level-ness was always of prime importance, here there was wind to consider and the amazing views on offer. Dad balked at my choice of a spot up on a hill because we’d never get it level and the wind would be a pain in the arse, but the view was just so stunning!

Whatever, I lost and we nestled into a nice spot towards the back of the area. It was perfect in the end and when we left the next morning, the dickhead parked on the hill wasn’t anywhere close to level. Dad won this one.

We were in Colorado by lunch the next day and feeling some finish-line syndrome. After standing up at car week for four straight days, we’d been excited for a long drive but now that we’d been sitting for four straight days, we were ready to change it up again.

We continued to stop often and I fit my work days in whenever and wherever I could. We both even managed to suck it up and get over our dislike of major highways. We really needed to make progress so we took to highway 70 after turning north from Hanksville.

Apart from the trucks, it wasn’t terrible. We stayed in the slow lane and enjoyed the scenery. Having driven this road many times in winter it was a completely different experience this time of year and I was loving it.

As we got close to Breckenridge, I was able to point out the different ski resorts I’d frequented over the past few years. Despite his multiple visits to the US, this was Dad’s first time in Colorado and since it had the potential to become our new home state, I was hoping he’d like it.

Dan had a camp pinned for us in Breckenridge so that was our destination. It had been nearly two months since I’d seen my husband and my dog and I while I couldn’t be more thankful for the time I got to spend with Mum, Mom & Dad, I was ready to get back to rebuilding my life at “home”.

We turned off the main drag heading into Breckenridge and took it slow climbing up a potholed dirt road. We were very high in elevation and each pothole was full of water from recent rain. Though there was no snow in sight, even on the peaks across the valley, Dad was concerned. We’d been camped in our shorts the night before!

As we neared the pin, I couldn’t see Dan’s van but I knew he’d be up there. I lay on Berta’s horn for a good while to warn him of our approach. The first thing I saw as we turned the next corner was Cleo prancing around. She knew that sound and she knew this color blue.

After a quick hello from her and a sniff of indifference towards Dad, she was back on duty and I went into the arms of my husband. It was great to see Dad and Dan together again and after a hug-handshake, that’s all we really had time for. It was cold and the sun was near setting so we had to get a fire going.

Dan’s camp gave us spectacular views and after we finally got the fire going with the wet wood surrounding us (thanks to a can of brake cleaner), we could sit down to enjoy it. Of course, we had plenty of stories to regale for Dan and he the same for us.

Once the sun went down, Cleo couldn’t get into the blue van fast enough. She happily posted up on the floor under a blanket so she could sleep and be on look-out at the same time. When it was bed time, both my and her accommodations were downgraded to the Club Wagon and Dad had Berta all to himself. I didn’t mind it, the Wagon cleaned up nicely.

Breck in Summer

What a joy it was for Dan and I to take Cleo for a walk in the morning. This was home. Dan was still limping badly from his knee injury at work, but he managed ok. He’d bent down to pick up a case of beer behind the bar and felt his knee go pop. We’d find out later that he’d torn a small piece of his meniscus but right now it just hurt every time he put weight on it.

When we returned to camp, Dad was up and we all set about breakfast. I enjoyed an outdoor office then while the boys caught up and we watched Jeeps climb our mountain, runners descend it and mountain bikers on the nearby trails. Breckenridge is such a hive of activity in the Summer, it took me back to the time we’d spent here in June.

I was overjoyed when my mid-morning meeting got cancelled because it meant we could de-camp and make our way over to the mountain peak we were looking at. Not planning to return to this camp, we drove in convoy into the town of Breckenridge and parked up by the gondola. This had become a regular routine for Dan and Cleo as he’d worked up on the mountain throug the Summer months. Cleo had a great lookout spot in the undercover parking and better yet, Berta was in her sights.

We took the free gondola up to the village which couldn’t have looked more different from when I’d seen it in the winter. It might as well have been an empty school it looked that deserted. Dan explained that the high season had well and truly ended. There would be one last push over Labor Day weekend in early September but until then, it would be this dead.

We paid $35 each to ride on a chairlift up to Peak 8 and it may have been Dad’s first time! It was definitely my first chair ride over solid ground and I was glad to have worn layers. Predictably, the higher we got, the colder it got!

There wasn’t much to do from Peak 8 unless you wanted to hike or ride down the mountain but we were excited for a gourmet lunch at the nearby restaurant. This, like the village below, looked like a shell thanks to its emptiness. The food was the same fare dished out to hungry and cold snowboarders and it suited it just fine. The beers at least were cold.

We sat at the window looking out over the deep valley below and enjoyed the views as we ate and talked. When it started pissing with rain we exchanged looks of concern but we were in no hurry to get down. By the time I’d finished sipping my beer, the weather had cleared and we thought we’d better take our opportunity. Dan had scared with the possibility that the lift could be closed due to lightning and we didn’t wanna get stuck on the hilltop.

We huddled on the way down to keep warm and I left satisfied with my Breck Summer experience. I can only imagine the money that must be spent over a full year at a place like that.

Cleo was happy to see us back in the carpark but I was unimpressed at the ticket on my windscreen. Dan had paid for our parking and had been playing the game he’d become proficient at, adding cents to his parking through the app to make the most of his money. Apparently he’d gotten something wrong because now I was up for $60!

By the time we’d stopped off at City Market for a few supplies, I had a reply to my email complaining about the parking ticket. I’d been punished for taking up more than one space. That’s discrimination against larger vehicles! No matter, they waived it just this once. Good deal, now I could enjoy the afternoon.

From Breckenridge, we drove south, us in blue following the two in white. We reached our favorite spot near Hartsel around 4pm and it felt like coming home. We parked up in the usual spot on the hill and it was a pleasure to show Dad around. Dan showed him all the features and we were soon camped up to watch the latest F1 action.

We started outside, but the weather from the mountains closed in quick, hitting us with sideways rain so we took the party inside. Plenty of room inside Berta for three!

As usual, the storm blew itself out and we were left with a beautiful rainbow at our backs and we were soon sitting out by the fire pit in preparation for a fire-cooked dinner.

There were challenges with the wood but the boys made it happen and steaks were cooked. Unfortunately by the time dinner was ready a second storm had blown in so again we retreated into the safety of Berta with Cleo shivering away at every crack of thunder.

Pikes Peak

Today we had a fixed schedule and so all parties from all vans were up at 8am for a 9am departure into Colorado Springs. We said goodbye to the Hill and Dad congratulated us both for finding such a great spot. It meant a lot to me that he liked it so I was smiling big as we drove out.

The drive into Colorado Springs still felt familiar from our similar drive to the International Hill Climb a few months earlier. I enjoyed the decent through the green pines and pointed out Pikes Peak as soon as it came into view.

We went straight by Cheyenne Canyon to the Penrose Heritage Museum. It was a free display for everything Pikes Peak and we entered looking like proper fans, wearing our latest swag. Dan and I had intended to get here during the hill climb week but never made it over.

It was a small display but very well done, especially considering the (zero) cost! They had memorabilia from the depths of history and also more recent footage showing the heartbreak and triumphs that have happened on the mountain.

Seeing the history of the climb when it had been dirt made me sad that it wasn’t still a rough and tough road, but the neighbors had complained of dust pollution so the paving had been necessary.

The museum was a great way to wet our whistles ahead of the drive up the hill and we had plenty of time to enjoy a picnic lunch in Cheyenne Canyon where we’d spent so much of our Pikes Peak week. Cleo remembered the babbling brook well, getting right in to cool off. Dad was getting used to these daily temperature changes. We’d been rugged up the last couple of nights but now we were in t-shirts.

Next up, the team split up. Dan was off to leave Cleo with our pet sitter Maggie while Dad and I went to pick up our touring car for the drive up Pikes Peak. It was my first time using Turo and I couldn’t have been more impressed. We were renting someone’s personal Mercedes E-Class sedan and there it was sitting pretty in a suburban driveway, lockbox on the window. In my research of ways to rent fancy cars, it seemed the only way to guarantee getting the vehicle you wanted and also meant a pick-up location somewhere other than the airport.

We parked Berta on the street and slipped into the Merc, having to adjust to leather seats and such a low position. I drove us over to a Walmart shopping center where Dan, now Cleo-less, had been waiting less than five minutes. He got into the back of the Merc and we were off. Our booking required that we arrive at the entry gates to Pikes Peak between 1 and 2pm and it was 1:45pm. Nailed it.

I pulled over then and Dad took the wheel. After hearing me bang on and on about this mountain and how cool the hill climb had been, now he could experience it for himself.

There’s always traffic up the mountain so we couldn’t do anything too crazy but whenever Dad got a gap, he put his foot down and braked late into the corners. We commentated the whole way up, pointing out the start/finish line and the bits of track we’d been able to see from Devil’s Playground.

We passed our spectator spot and climbed further above the treeline. Dan and I had both been to the tippy-top back when we’d first met but it was great coming back now that we’d seen cars racing in anger on this very strip of tarmac. The upper section really is the most insane. I don’t think there’s a straight piece of road more than a 100 meters long. Dad took each curve expertly and sensibly slowed for the mountain goats.

I asked Dad periodically if he was feeling ok, wanting to make sure we didn’t have any drama with the elevation and he was good. At the top, we were prepared for the cold but wow it still hit us hard. With all our layers on, we made sure to move slowly so we didn’t lose our breath.

Once again, we were lucky to have brilliant weather with a few clouds touching us but always clearing fast enough for us to see the view below.

The train bringing tourists up looked shiny and new with the token bell ringing as it moved off. There were still so many ways for us to experience this mountain. I know a mountain bike ride up to the top is in my future.

After wandering around up top, we retreated to the warmth of the visitor’s center where there was a mob of people crowding the shop but no so many in the small museum. We looked at the info and didn’t know how to feel about Australia’s tallest mountain at 7,000 ft being used to compare to this 14,000 ft behemoth.

Dad took the wheel again and we began our descent.

He followed the entry gate man’s instructions keeping the Merc in a low gear and when we got to the brake temperature check station, we passed with flying colors. The Pacifica in front of us did not and had to go into the naughty pen.

We turned around and went straight back up the hill with me driving so Dad could enjoy the view.

I put my foot in it every chance I got and while Dan stayed silent in the back seat, he would later regale that a pair of Aussies had tried to kill him on the mountain.

I pulled into Devil’s Playground and we parked it to go and find our spot. There was less ice and snow on the ground which made it easier to reach our station and it was a pleasure to sit and reminisce. I hope Dad comes over to do the race with us one year.

Dad’s turn to drive again and he took us all the way down. The car hadn’t been the powerhouse we’d hoped for but it had flappy paddles so it was better than getting a Toyota Corolla from Hertz.

Back in Colorado Springs, we dropped Dan off at the Club Wagon and he went off to retrieve Cleo as we returned the car. Amazingly, when we pulled into the driveway, the trip meter read exactly 100.0 miles. 100 miles well spent. The drop-off process was seamless and Berta felt properly huge and sluggish after that drive.

It had been a long day and I was tiring and excited for camp. We had a spot in Woodland Park pegged and planned to meet somewhere there but we ended up right beside Dan at a traffic light so drove up together.

Using our experience again and not opting to try for the private camp by getting locked in at Rampart Reservoir, we turned left at the first dirt intersection to avoid the rough road and find a secluded camp. Dad was driving and so it was his choice. There were plenty of options to choose from but most were occupied and others had issues. By the time we’d settled on one, Dan pulled up next to us chiming, “Picky, picky!”

Dead right. The camp was level, we had ample space for both vans and the firewood was close. A beer in a comfy chair and some F1 viewing couldn’t come fast enough.

Bye Dad

For the first time in a long time, we woke up with nowhere to be in a hurry. The Dutch grand prix had happened overnight so that was our first order of business after Dan made us an egg and toast breakfast. I was in heaven.

It was a great way to enjoy our last camp and when the race had been won, it was time to send Dad off. Dan and I figured out where our next camp would be then we packed everything up and drove out together. At the intersection with highway 285, we parked up so Dan and Dad could say goodbye. I was glad they’d had some time together, even it had only been a few days.

Dad, Berta and I were off into Denver then with only a couple things on our agenda before the airport. The first was to visit Red Rocks where I still haven’t seen a concert but am not sick of stopping in just to see the place. We missed the 3pm cut-off to go into the amphitheater, but we took a quick tour through the visitor’s center so Dad could get a feel. It was easy for me to find something new as well.

The second and more important thing to tick off our list was new fridge drawer latches. We’d broken two of them during the trip and I’d conceded that the tiny screws and plastic latches were insufficient for the task of preventing heavy fridges from coming out of their homes.

It took us a while, but at a Home Depot, we found the perfect window latches that would work a treat. When I grumbled that they were white, Dad was quick to tell me to paint the bloody things. Good point.

We were plenty early, but with a business lounge awaiting him, the best place to be was the airport. We’d had a month together, just me and my Dad doing what we love and wow had we loved it. I realized as we neared the airport that we’d never done anything like this, just the two of us and I cherished every minute.

When we got to the curb, there were no tears, only laughs and smiles as he slung my sad-looking duffle bag over his shoulder. We’d done 3,363 miles, fixed one set of brakes, broken two fridge latches, lost one cup and two chair cushions, crossed six state lines, hung out with all my best mates, shared dozens of camps and laughed the whole way. I love you Dad, I’m proud to be your shit-for-brains.

August 19 – 24, 2024