It shouldn’t be all about the van, but it really is… Since coming back from our October trip, we gutted Berta and started from scratch. This time we were building up the interior for real. We’d garnered enough information from our test builds to know what we wanted and so we set to it. Fully insulated, paneled walls, custom kitchen, new bed frame, water tanks, roof fans (yes two), 800W of solar and electrical system. It was a solid few weeks of work with many trips to Home Depot and our mailbox to collect a plethora of Amazon items. We must have used the free returns feature a dozen times when we simply changed our minds or the items didn’t work as we wanted.

By the last day of “building”, we were really procrastinating. The morning we left, I installed the CO monitor, the paper towel holder and set-up one of my favorite parts of the build: a dedicated Cleo food and water drawer. No more shifting dog bowls around, dropping socks in the water bowl and spilling nuggets of dog food all over the place!

After packing Berta, she looked full, but comfortable. We locked up the workshop that had been our home for the last few weeks, said goodbye to our fleet (Club Wagon, Ramsie, SVT, Mobie) and hit the road for the familiar drive up to Lake Tahoe.

At some point along the highway that climbs to Echo Summit, just after we’d seen snow on the ground, Cleo lost her footing on her perch – a platform that sits between our seats. This led to her face planting the dash, which led to her knocking the gear shift lever down into 4th, which led to the engine light coming on, which led to a loss of power. Dan chucked the hazard lights on and just his luck, we pulled into a mall carpark that was right next to an O’Reilly’s. We suspected a turbo hose clamp had come off, and so Dan went to work inspecting while I took the dog for a turn about the carpark. When I’d returned, he’d found no issues with the turbo system and the only engine code present was for fuel rail pressure being too high. After cleaning the code and driving it around the carpark, we had power back, so we were back on the road!

Our first camp was Echo Lake Sno Park. We had been planning on a park closer to the lake, but when this one presented itself, we were happy for an earlier stop. It was about 9pm when we made camp and found ourselves a spot away from the dozen or so other cars in the tiered, snow-covered car park. Dan got to work with the diesel heater and to our delight, he’d got the settings right for our 7,300 ft elevation and it worked a treat. I had my first use of the stove to make myself a hot chocolate and thoroughly enjoyed sipping it while sitting backwards in my swivel chair. We were in bed shortly afterwards, hopeful that the van would maintain a sensible temperature overnight thanks to all of our insulation work.

Heavenly

We woke to a 7am alarm with the intention of getting to the mountain well before 9:50am, when the Heavenly carpark was expected to be full. We’d slept comfortably through the night but Dan had been up a few times tending to Cleo who’d got a bit cold. The tires crunched and gripped on the snow as we drove out of the park and north towards the California Lodge. The view as we dropped towards lake level was as impressive as ever.

Once at the lodge, Dan put us on the edge of the lot and parked nice and flat so I could make us breakfast and coffee.

We took our sweet time as those around us jockeyed for position, arms bent over their steering wheels and eyes wide as they hunted for a place to put their car and get onto the mountain. We got the van nice and warm with the heater for Cleo’s sake because we didn’t expect any sun for the day. It felt strange gearing up for a day on the mountain, it had been so long, but we soon remembered which pocket our phones went into and the order in which we put our clothes on. The carpark was full by 9:15am.

Strapping into our boards came easily enough and there was no line for the chair so we were straight up the mountain. We had big smiles when we came to the top of the next big lift to one of the highest points where the view of Lake Tahoe is just stunning. Dan informed me that the view was in fact heavenly and was how the mountain had earned its name.

We rode a couple of groomers so that I could find my rhythm again, but Dan didn’t need any warming up, he was straight into his buttering and twisting. It felt great to be back on the snow and even better, there was hardly a crowd!

We were in the trees soon enough and finding the powder we always hunted for and it seemed like we had the mountain to ourselves. When our tummies starting grumbling, the crowds starting building so we made our way back to California Lodge. We rode the chair down, opting out of the catwalk maze that takes you down the steep mountain. We enjoyed the stunning view and laughed and just how conspicuous Berta was in the carpark. Yes, there were other vans and campers dotted throughout the lot, but none as bright blue as our big beauty!

Cleo was nice and warm when we reached her and I excitedly cooked up a couple of burgers using frozen patties from our freezer. I set off the fire alarm within minutes. It was a good reminder to open up the vent at the front of the van to direct the smoke out.

We made ourselves very comfortable in the van and experienced the usual dilemma – to return to the mountain or not? I was determined, but in no rush so I stepped to my lunch time job of mountain our temperature sensor outside the van so that I could entertain myself with knowing how warm we were compared to the outside world. I faffed around for way too long with a couple of cable ties while standing on the back tire and mounting this thing under the solar panels, but I was happy with the job I did.

The mountain welcomed us back in the afternoon and we found that the lunch time crowds had now dispersed and again we had most of the runs to ourselves. We had one destination in mind: The Pinnacles. It was a run we’d discovered last time we were here and it had been a magic ride through an alpine forest where we came upon fields of fresh powder. It wasn’t quite covered enough to have that status yet and we got separated which is never fun, especially on an out-of-the-way part of the mountain, but we made it down safely.

When we’d parked Berta that morning, we knew we’d never be able to get out if cars were still parked around us but we didn’t mind, we had nowhere to be in a hurry. To kill time, I thought it a perfect opportunity to have a shower!

It was a two-man effort to erect the shower curtain which we discovered was a bit small, but we made do. Next, we positioned the water tray at my feet and the water catching container in the entrance step. After I connected the shower hose to the tap, Dan adjusted the water temperature for me to get it piping hot then stood watch to ensure water was being contained as I bathed. I made lots of happy noises as I cleaned my body from a day of snowboarding and Dan had the same experience when he jumped in after me. A couple of design changes to make, but fundamentally, we’d got it spot on.

With the carpark properly empty (and dark), we made our way to camp. Another Sno Park, but this time a familiar one, Taylor Creek. We joined a Subaru in the nicely plowed circle and after a quick walk for Cleo, were inside for the night.

I really put the gas stove and oven to work tonight for dinner and we happily discovered that it is a very effective space heater. We watched a TV show as we ate dinner and when that was done, we ate hot blueberry muffins out of the oven. With my newly installed temperature sensor, the van was at 69*F and outside it was 28*F. Lovely.

Heaven

I’d built an improvised Cleo bed for last night facing the chairs towards each other and building a little cubby to keep Cleo warm, but it hadn’t quite done the job so Dan was up in the night turning the diesel heater on and making sure she was comfortable. I think the van temperature was somewhere in the 50s when I got out of bed. We didn’t have frozen slobber on our pillows so we were experiencing luxury.

Cleo and I went for a walk around the Sno Park where the well used trail through the snow and into the forest was well used and littered with dog business so we both had to watch our footing. It was a nice amble through the wakening trees. When we got home, Dan had risen and was sitting in his underpants in his backwards chair looking pretty happy.

He was pretty sore after yesterday’s riding so could have gone either way but I was keen to hit the mountain again and so we did, after making coffee. After taking a wrong turn to get to Heavenly, we found ourselves in a monster queue of traffic heading towards the lodge. It was 8:45am so we’d probably left it a bit late. Never wanting to be a sheep, where everyone else turned right onto Ski Run Blvd, he went straight on to get to the opposite side of the lot. As we came over a small crest, we saw a big hill in front of us and collectively gulped. It was snowy, it was cold and Berta is a big van. In my mind, there was no way we were getting up that hill, but I kept that to myself as Dan carried on at a steady clip, stating that we should see what Berta could do. She surprised us both, Dan confessing at the top of the hill that he’d been doubtful, but she didn’t spin a wheel. After turning at the peak of the hill we were greeted by a man in a vest waving us straight into the carpark where, and I’m not exaggerating, we were directed into the last row of parking. Minutes later, the lot was closed off. Not only that, we were flat with the windscreen pointing towards the crest of the mountain where the sun might eventually peek over.

We had ourselves a couple of muffins for breakfast, then repeated yesterday’s ritual. The crowds were similar to the day before, but we knew it wouldn’t last. We explored a little more today, finding a beautiful tree run in the Galaxy area that we tried a couple of times before heading over to Tamarack and finding some gorgeous powder back on the California side. We dipped into and out of valleys through the trees, wove our way around exposed rocks and tree roots, all the while listening to our music and looking for each other.

At around noon, our Cleo clock kicked in, telling us to get back to the van to make sure our pet wasn’t too cold. The sun had looked promising in the morning, but it hadn’t really shown itself. Still searching for powder on the way down, I had no idea where we were heading but were spat out of the forest right at the spot we wanted to be at. This time we opted for the catwalk route down the mountain and it was bloody hard work. I sat on my toe edge the whole time and my ankle and calf muscles felt it big time.

At the bottom of the last run, I went right to exit while Dan went left so I was standing in front of Berta much before him. Cleo was appropriately excited then confused when I didn’t open the van. The sun was out on this side of the mountain and she was even panting a little! Dan joined us and we were all baking in the sun then. Burgers again for lunch (fire alarm was stashed under the bed covers when it went off again) and Dan happily discovered that a zero-gravity chair fits perfectly between the kitchen and our side cabinet. Necessary of course because Cleo was occupying one captain’s chair while I occupied the other.

We lingered a long time in the carpark, Dan having a little lie down to curb his exhaustion, me reading my book in the sun with Cleo snoring beside me.

When we drove out, we still had plenty of daylight to start our drive south towards Phoenix. There were no more mountains between us and Dan’s family so we settled in to driving mode, but were both happy knowing that we’d only be driving during the day.

After getting up and over Kingsbury Grade, we stopped at Mitch Park in Markleeville to give Dan a chance to make some driveshaft adjustments (it was still vibrating a little).

I took the opportunity to take Cleo on a non-snowy walk around the park, enjoying the entertainment provided by ducks and geese walking on a partly iced over lake. It took two laps of the lake for Dan to be done, then we were ready to hit the road again.

The drive south on Highway 395 is beautiful and we’ve done it many times now, in all seasons, but it just doesn’t get old. The sun setting on the white hills was too good, it was distracting us from our podcast.

Just after 5pm we rolled into Bridgeport and it was well and truly time for camp. We were in the vicinity of Travertine Hot Springs, which we’d camped near before but the snowy road had prevented Ramsie from reaching the Springs. We passed by the road in and saw two other campers heading that way and so carried on to our own creative spot behind a bathroom building between two baseball fields. With Berta being fully enclosed, we could pretty much camp anywhere on the street but we still liked to be away from it all so that Cleo had freedom to run around and that we weren’t being an eyesore to anyone.

As soon as we parked, Dan was into devising an improved Cleo bed while I made dinner, loving the kitchen more and more with each cook. Having driven with the car heater on for the last hour or so and the heat from the cooking, we didn’t need the diesel heater, able to sit comfortably in a hoodie and some long pants.

Toe Out

With the cover over the fan closed, we didn’t have any light to wake us and so stayed in bed until about 8am. It was COLD overnight. Getting down to 6*F outside and 30*F inside. I was the one who’d put Cleo in her “bed” last night so I was checking on her and had to put her back in at one point. Around 2am though, the cold got too much and I picked her up and lopped her into bed with us. Dan turned the heater on about a hour afterwards and we were all comfortable. Such a simple act!

When I opened the side door, I was blasted with white light glittering up at me from the ground. The snow was beautiful and most of it around the baseball fields was untouched. Cleo and I went for a tour and I found us a perfect legal camp only meters away on some BLM land. No matter, we hadn’t been bothered in the night.

When I went to make coffee, we discovered that the water system was frozen. We were slightly disappointed but had seen it coming. No matter, we had enough in water bottles to get us through until about midday when everything thawed again. Dan took down our window covers and we sat to enjoy the sun raging in through the windscreen and the heat that came with it.

As it happened, we were both outside the van at 9am to hear the church bells in Bridgeport ring out the time and it was a beautiful sound, reaching us easily across the valley. When another car pulled into the area, that was our queue to leave and so we crunched through the snow and into town for some diesel ($6.49/gallon) before continuing on our way south on Highway 395.

I don’t think we’ve ever made it past Mono Lake without stopping. The last time we were here we stopped for breakfast and watched the cloud below us slowly reveal the lake. This time the cloud didn’t budge. It was thick and stubbornly hung over Mono Lake.

The cloud looked like a solid wall as we approached it from the lower highway, sending us from sunshine to shadow.

The snowy mountains provided beautiful scenery as we got back into an F1 podcast we’d started yesterday. We spotted skiers on June Mountain, but couldn’t see the peak of Mammoth as we drove past the exit. Further into the valley I started noticing signs to Owens River and that peaked my interest. Of course we were close to Owens River Gorge – a climbing spot we’d visited briefly this time two years ago.

I got out my guidebook and with my nose poked into it, we missed the turn off. Once we backtracked, we were soon on the familiar road that ran along a huge above-ground water pipe leading us towards the gorge. The lower end carpark was pretty busy with about ten cars, most of them lived in. Out of the van, we were happy to discover that the weather was balmy. With the sun, it was almost t-shirt weather.

I made us some lunch and we were packed and heading into the gorge within minutes. It was a nice gentle walk into the canyon and Dan put Cleo on a leash in case she saw something that interested her off the steep cliff to our right side. Some sections of the walk were in shade and it made us shiver.

Having checked my notes from our last visit, I wanted to climb a different crag so we eyeballed the Pink Wall (the first crag) as soon as we approached it. As we remembered, crossing the river was no easy task and Dan sussed out a spot where the water was knee high and flowing steadily. We hoiked our pants up, removed our shoes and while I got myself across, Dan got both he and Cleo in his arms across. I had a slip at the end of the crossing that bashed a toe on my right foot, but other than that, we’d had a successful crossing.

Right! As always, we endeavored to get one climb in before lunch and it was past noon so we didn’t waste any time getting onto Peewee’s Playhouse (5.7), a nice long bolted route up the sun-soaked rock. Beautiful grippy rock, nice easy route with an interesting arete at the top. I was happy to find that the gentle breeze that was blowing at the base of the crag was absent towards the top so I was comfortable climbing.

By the time Dan ran up the wall, I was in full shade and with my jacket on and knew our climbing at the Pink Wall was finished. There were so many other routes to explore, but we weren’t gonna be climbing in the shade. Dan enjoyed the route and as the wind picked up, we packed up and re-crossed the river, Dan opting to keep his shoes on this time. It was at this point I realized I’d really bashed my toe. It had felt a little sore in my climbing shoe, but crossing the river was slow as I baby’d it.

We found some sunshine not far down the road and set up our stadium chairs in the brush to enjoy our lunch while watching climbers on the Diamondback wall – the crag we’d climbed previously.

Knowing we had a destination in mind and my toe was buggered, we opted to leave it at that. We wanted to do some sort of activity each day to break up the driving and we’d achieved that. Just like last time, we vowed to return here for a dedicated climbing trip and explore all of the gems the gorge had to offer.

We chatted the whole way up the hill climb back to Berta, admiring the landscape below and above us. Back at the top, we were happy to see our van. Being in full sun, I took a glance at our solar controller and noticed we were getting a whopping 20A charge current to our batteries from the solar panels. When it dipped down below 10A and one of the lights started flashing I was alarmed, but that simply meant we were at full capacity so the solar went into float mode. Everything on that front seemed to be working just fine! 

We had a beer sitting on a rock in the sun before heading out and back to highway 395 where the views still took our breath away. It wasn’t long before we were well below the snow line watching the sun set.

When a rest stop appeared, just as it was getting properly dark, we took the hint and parked up for the night. In typical fashion, we drove past the rest stop and camped in a pullout well away from the riff raff.

Home for Christmas

It was Christmas Day and we were both up early to see what Santa had brought us. A pitbull! After I’d passed out, Dan had designed, developed and tested a Cleo pathway to get her from the floor and up to our bed if she got cold. After doing one training run, Cleo had figured it out on her own in the middle of the night and we woke up to find her curled up at our feet. She’d jumped up onto the rotated passenger seat, walked up the ramp made from the driver’s seat back and along the kitchen bench that Dan had covered with a blanket.

Nothing on the cards today but driving and it went pretty quickly. As we dipped into San Bernardino, the rocky Sierras were swapped for green rolling hills and cookie cutter housing developments. As we drove east from there, those were replaced with Joshua trees and desert cactus.

We kept Debi up to date with our progress, but I didn’t want to give an ETA, still nervous that Berta would stumble and maybe let us down. Having stopped for a much needed brunch at a rest stop, we carried on the rest of the way without really stopping, except for a bathroom break and a walking break for Cleo.

The Smartless podcast kept us entertained with stories from James Cameron and Ewan MacGregor but we turned it off as we came to the outskirts of Phoenix, AZ. We joined the crowd (not necessarily traffic, but a lot of cars) as Dan navigated the familiar freeway network to his parents’ home in Paradise Valley.

In winter time, this place is gorgeous, and the view from the up the hill at the Goodings’ is even better. After many months of imagining just this moment, Berta crested the driveway on Quartz Mountain Road and pulled up in front of Debi and Peter’s house. We were elated, we couldn’t believe it. Debi came out and I was quickly into her arms before she could say just how big Berta is. She couldn’t wait for her tour so she was inside immediately checking out the amenities and was suitably impressed. Peter wasn’t far behind her.

As was becoming common place, my in-laws had food ready for us and we devoured it as we caught up at the kitchen bench. We talked the afternoon and the rest of the evening away, feeling very happy to be home.

Holiday Week

If there was somewhere we didn’t want to be, it was the slopes. The last two years of doing this trip we’d attempted snowboarding in the week between Christmas and New Year and it was always a shit show. Crazy crowds and obscene traffic, it just wasn’t our scene. On top of that, A large portion of the US was being hit by crazy snow storms, some being described as winter hurricanes, so we didn’t mind enjoying a week in the mild temperatures of Phoenix, Arizona.

We had a lovely Christmas Day with the whole family on Boxing Day, watching the chaos of present opening, enjoying a beautiful meal and giving a tour of our big blue home, nicknamed “sky” by the kids. They were suitably impressed. Dan got his arms and legs drawn on (twice), we had a ballet recital from Emmi and caught up with the adults.

There were a few rainy days where we thoroughly enjoyed sitting around, reading, chatting, playing piano, hot tubbing and staying up till midnight watching movies. When it wasn’t raining, we tried to make the most of the outdoors. For Dan, that meant working on driveshaft wobbles, but for me, that meant mountain biking. Having installed a new fork on Dan’s bike, we hadn’t had the chance to test it and Arizona was the perfect proving ground.

We had a failed attempt at a trail network by Piestewa Peak where the rocky nature of the trail made it very uncomfortable for both of us. It was nice riding in shorts and a t-shirt but when Dan’s front tyre flicked dog shit up onto his fork, we were done. I took a circuitous route back to the van while Dan went direct and I had to turn around when blisters started forming on my non-gloved hands thanks to the extreme bumps.

At McDowell Mountain Park a few days later, we had a much better time of it. After paying our $7 entrance fee, we were told the park had over 80 miles of single track and we soon discovered it was purpose built for MTB’ing. We pulled over in the first parking lot and found the Long Loop, Sport Loop and Technical Loop. All called “tracks”, there was signage clearly stating that these loops were for high speed only! Leisurely riders should go find the “trails” within the park.

Not dissuaded, we wove through cactus and sandy corners along the Long Loop, enjoying the smooth terrain and the artistic clouds moving above us. There were fast, flowy sections, no major climbs and some nice drops into wide washes. Much better than yesterday, Dan was smiling and his bike was working a treat.

Just as we were feeling the hungries, we could see the carpark and our big blue van welcoming us home.

I got the zero gravity chairs out and we enjoyed our lunch in style. We were soon joined by Jason, a full time traveler camping nearby and in need of a foot pump for his bike. He must have done two pumps with the tyre then hung out and chatted for a good half hour, but we were on for a chat as much as he was.

We still had some daylight so we did the Sport Loop and thoroughly enjoyed the high and tight berms at the end. We were both whooping and hollering like kids. That was Dan done, but I still had enough in me to do the Technical Loop. Yes it had a couple of drops and some gritty climbing, but otherwise wasn’t too bad. I met a happy Dan back at the van and we enjoyed the packing away process, finding it pretty simple!

On the way home from that ride, we enjoyed a stunning sunset over Camelback mountain and Dan gave me a tour of his childhood neighborhood. He pointed out his elementary and high schools, the dirt wash where he’d ridden dirt bikes and run from trouble, the corner store where he’d ride his bike to get a coke and finally, the house he grew up in. It was gorgeous and apart from the color, hadn’t changed a great deal in the years since he’d lived there. It was a great tour.

We rang in the New Year in our usual fashion, with us kids going out for a dinner, a few drinks and some pool, then coming back to the hot tub for fireworks at midnight. We were early coming back from our outing so we watched a movie to get us to 2023 and though we tried, Debi and I couldn’t wake Dan from his deep slumber so he missed the fireworks. We stood in the backyard and voiced many “oohs” and “aahs” as the sky lit up in the valley below us. The first day of the new year marked the anniversary of us getting married exactly where Debi and I stood. The celebrant and bride wished each other a happy anniversary and we were both happy to be together for the event. Meanwhile, poor Cleo was having a fit. Terrified of the bangs, she managed to break into Debi’s room and get under the bed where she was shivering violently. It took twenty minutes on the couch to calm her down before we could get to bed.

Our last full day in Phoenix we spent with Matt, Alex and their family at their place. It didn’t stop raining all day and didn’t change once we were at their place. The kids were rowdy and full of stories to tell us. We watched the Nutcracker production that all the girls had been a part of, had a lovely dinner cooked by Matt, laughed at Hannah and her depressed nature and stood back in almost fear as Alex described her excitement at taking delivery of a e-bike that can seat 7 children. We topped the night off with karaoke and though we came close, there were no tears when it came to sharing the microphone. Baby Claire, not even two months old, slept through the whole lot.

Back at the house, we found Cleo in our bedroom broken out of her crate, having another fit. Thunder, lightning and rain had been her company while we were out and she’d freaked out, broken out of the crate and probably shivered the night away. Poor thing. When the thunder continued and we couldn’t settle her, we gave her a 25mg dose of Zyrtec and within half an hour she was properly relaxed. Can’t believe it had taken us this long to get that advice!

We put on the first day highlights of the much-anticipated Dakar Rally and ate the rest of our wedding cake that had been frozen since the special day. It tasted lovely, just like it had a year ago. Happy anniversary to us, it was a joy to spend it with the people we’d celebrated the event with. In bed, we thought back on our year and the things we’d done, feeling pretty satisfied and determined to make 2023 even better.

Check Engine Light Antics

Despite plans to rise at 6am, the bed was just too comfortable so we kept snoozing through our alarm until about 8am. We had two things to fix: a leaking water tank and busted inverter. We divided and conquered, me taking the passenger seat off to deal with the inverter while Dan plugged the tank. I was ecstatic to find a “fuse” type solution with a loose connection. It felt like my very first and I let myself believe that 2023 was my year – that these were the types of fixes I could expect. Not wanting to muck around too much with the tank and make things worse, we opted to simply block it off and rely on only tank for the rest of the trip. That was easy done and we were soon filled up on one side.

Debi played music from The Greatest Showman through the house external speakers as we did our final clean and pack. When we were ready, Dan wanted to do a final driveshaft wobble test so Debi came along for the Berta experience. She was suitably impressed.

After touring the house to make sure we’d gotten everything, it was time to say goodbye. As always, it felt too soon and there were tears, but we took comfort in the fact that we’d be back in April and perhaps even before then. The sun came out for us as we waved goodbye to our Mom from Berta’s big windows and I lost my battle to hold back tears.

After a glorious stop at Filiberto’s for huge breakfast burritos, we drove north east towards Payson. We were only 40 miles away from home when the engine light came on. Loss of power, just like we’d had climbing up to Lake Tahoe. We pulled over and found the same code; cleared it, then carried on. Power was restored, but by the time we’d got up to speed again, the light was back and power was gone. Shoot. We repeated this a few times, trying different things, turning cruise control off, accelerating quickly and slowly, but the bloody thing kept coming back. It was reporting a fuel rail pressure that was too high. We eventually figured out that if you accelerated gently and kept the speed below 70 mph, she’d cruise along just fine. Dan also figured out that you could clear the code on the fly, without stopping or turning the engine off. He kept the computer plugged in and when the engine light came on at the top of the hill or after overtaking someone, he’d just grab it off the dash, put it on his lap, push some buttons and she’d be good again. Not ideal but not a dealbreaker.

The weather and a podcast were our companions as we drove through Payson, Holbrook and Gallup. We slowed down big time just north of Payson when snow was falling heavily, then came out into sun as we approached New Mexico. It was near Holbrook that I remembered we had friends that lived in New Mexico. We’d met Andy and Sarah at the Austin GP a few months ago and they’d said we should visit if we were ever passing through. I sent them a message but expected them to say they weren’t on our way because I thought that lived on the south side of the state. I was dead wrong, they were in Los Alamos, right along our route! They’d had a big weekend and so their house was in a state, but they were keen to see us and host us. That got us excited for the rest of the drive and gave us a destination to work towards. 

I had a power nap just before the New Mexico border and I was happy to wake up in time to see us cross the border and the beautiful sandstone red and orange rocks that welcome you into the state. We saw a couple of big accidents on the other side of the highway and it made us wary of the conditions. It was snowing on and off and there were sections where the traffic, light as it was, traveled at well below 50 mph.

Just inside New Mexico, we stopped in at a rest area for Cleo to have a break and it was nice to walk in fresh powdery snow despite the chilling wind that whipped snowflakes into my eyes. On the walk back from the bathroom I saw something flopping around under the van – the diesel heater ducting. I was happy we hadn’t lost it and Dan quickly set it right with some cable ties before we head off.

In the next town we were disappointed to pay $4.25/gal for a tank of diesel when a servo just up the road offered it for $4.07. Even more upsetting was that petrol was $2.49/gal, a number that doesn’t even exist in California anymore.

As the sun started to fade, we had our first slide. I felt it and grabbed onto my door handle, yelping a little, but Dan had it under control and we were pointing straight before the back end had a chance to move us sideways. Berta is a big girl and it did not feel good to feel her slide. We crawled amongst trucks and car doing about 35 mph and realized there was no way we’d be making it to Los Alamos. It would be another 3 hours of driving at least and just way too dangerous. I messaged our friends and they were as disappointed as us and since they worked full time, we’d miss them completely, but we all knew it was best.

We parked up at a Love’s Travel Stop, away from the lines of trucks in the vast carpark holed up for the night. While it had been amazing to have a proper bed and great company for the past week, we were happy to be back on the road and in our home. Dan was a little rusty, attempting to put the window shades up backwards, but we were soon back into the swing of things.

Within ten minutes of stopping, we were snacking on Boom Chicka Pop, had cold beers in hand, the TV on with Dakar and Cleo was comfortably in bed. We had a bit of a hiccup when I went to cook dinner, getting no gas though the stove or oven. After a half hour of rooting around with the adjustable regulator at the back, removing the oven from the bench and troubleshooting, we discovered that it was user error with the regulator and were back cooking with gas! We are happy with the serviceability with our designs so far since most of them have needed some sort of service!

Windy Highways & SRAM

We had somewhere to be at a certain time this afternoon so we set an alarm for 6am but we discovered that was a bit early since it was still essentially dark and the ground was frozen over – exactly why we’d stopped yesterday. We took our time getting ready to give the sun time to come up and then we were off.

The scenery through the northern end of New Mexico was pretty but Dan was working hard keeping Berta on the road. The cross winds were incredible! I was having a snooze at one point and the force of the wind woke me up. After a couple of hours we stopped for breakfast at a rest stop, grateful that we no longer had to worry about pointing the van in the right direction to minimize wind getting to the stove top. I couldn’t help but stand up on the tires to check the solar panels. Yes they were bolted to the roof but I was still scared.

Crossing into Colorado was like entering a different world. As soon as we peaked over a crest that marked the border, the rock formations had changed and the snow cover was a brighter shade of white. We stopped for diesel ($4.75/gal) just before Colorado and didn’t stop after that. Happily, though we’d had the computer plugged into the car all day, we’d been engine light-free. Yesterday I had mused at the possibility of the cause being a bad batch of fuel, but quickly wrote that off as a “fuse” solution. Well, this is 2023, so maybe that was it!

As we approached Colorado Springs, we were sick of our podcasts and music and ready for a break. We rolled into a Scenic Overlook by Garden of the Gods right around 3pm. Snack time, I made some pizzas in the oven.

We were meeting a friend in an hour so perfectly, had time to make a snack and relax a while. The view was stunning and the people watching didn’t disappoint with a wedding party showing up not long after us to get their photos taken.

Our next stop was to SRAM, a bicycle component manufacturer based in C-Springs. Ross, my mate from work had just spent time with his friend Chris and recommended that we swing by and check out his workplace. We were keen to see a bike factory so got in touch and we met him in the snowy carpark outside the new gray building. He was a lovely British bloke and from the outset you could tell he was a bike nut. Inside the building, we instantly got the vibe that everyone else was too.

They’d just moved into the building and Chris told us it had been a church in its past life. It was simply built, but the ceilings were high and just felt like a great thinking space. After checking out their training center and cafeteria where someone was eating with a dog by their side, we walked through the main workspace and after passing the small collection of desks, it was just bikes, bikes, bikes. Since SRAM make components and not the bikes themselves, there was every different brand and style you could imagine. It was hard to keep walking by Chris and not stop in our tracks. Everyone we walked by was in a plaid shirt, beanie and blue jeans, looking like they’d just got off the trails.

The test lab was the real playground and we were treated to a tour of a variety of test equipment, a lot of which was running. Chris explained that all of their test rigs had been built in house – something made obvious by the fact that they were all built with bike parts. Chris was full of details and I fired a bunch of questions at him, so interested to learn more about the industry and what goes into a set of brakes.

We left feeling buzzed at the idea of working in a place where EVERYONE around you is passionate about riding and getting outside. We thanked Chris profusely and as we crossed the carpark, saw an employee leaving work on his fat tyre bike with panniers, obviously not letting the snow interrupt his usual commute.

It was pretty much dark now and we didn’t want to go anywhere, so after a quick stop for beer we started hunting. We didn’t have any luck near Garden of the Gods so moved north out of town. A scenic overlook by the highway was a bust thanks to “no overnight parking” signs and so we settled for a truck stop a few more miles up the highway. We parked so as not to disturb the trucker’s access and happily hunkered down for the night.

Air Force, Red Rocks & Powder

We were determined to go snowboarding today so set an alarm and after a light breakfast and walk for Cleo in the crisp snow, we set off south down Highway 25 back towards C-Springs. We didn’t go far, taking the first exit to the Air Force Academy. A weird place to visit maybe, but yesterday I’d recalled a church I’d read about in Malcom Gladwell’s “Bomber Mafia” and found that it was right on our route! The Cadet Chapel was built in the 1960s at the newly established air force base and its architecture took inspiration from the fighter jets that took to the sky from the base. The way Malcom described it had made me want to look it up and the images are breathtaking, the building looking more like a dozen fighter jets lined up vertically with their noses pointed to the sky. I had to see it.

We were intimidated by the base entrance and showed our IDs when asked by the guarding officer. When we said we weren’t carrying any drugs or weapons, he still wanted to have a look in the back of the van. I went around and opened the doors and he stood back a little and said, “that’s a lot of stuff”, but was satisfied and let us pass on through. We drove past the turn off to the chapel and stopped in at the visitor’s center first. We were there right at 9am so waltzed in to find a very quiet place.

We watched a film about life on the base and then came the disappointment. I enquired at the front desk about the chapel and the lady told me that unfortunately it was closed and would remain closed until 2027! Bloody hell, I’d read that it was undergoing restoration and repairs until the end of 2022, but this was crazy! She explained that they’d found asbestos and all sorts of problems hence the gross delay. They’d even built a massive house around it so you couldn’t see any part of it. That is government effort at its best.

Back outside, the fierce wind whipped at our faces as we took the short walk up a hill to get a view of the base and the huge temporary shed covering the chapel. Boo. We shall have to come back in 10 years (there will inevitably be more delays).

We drove out the way we’d come and now that we knew where to look, the chapel shed stuck out like a sore thumb. We stopped and got a close-up look at a B52 bomber that had seen action in Vietnam and a huge war helicopter who’s blades were flapping gently in the breeze.

Both had seen action in WWII and Vietnam, both surviving to become historical markers for us tourists to gawk at. Cleo got a thrill running around in the snow, slipping on ice and even scratching her back on the underbelly of the chopper.

Disappointed, but still happy we’d checked it out, we carried on our way north towards Breckenridge for our snowboarding. We were sticking to major highways in case of inclement weather and so drove through the outskirts of Denver. I had another “aha” moment thinking that the Red Rocks Amphitheater might be near here and sure enough, it was on our way! Just west of Denver we pulled off the highway and started making guesses at which rock formations were the famous concert venue. I crossed my fingers that we’d be able to catch a tour or see it from a viewing platform.

Once in the carpark, we saw construction and weren’t hopeful, but then we saw people walking towards the theater and I got properly excited. The visitor’s center was closed, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to just waltz in and check out the whole place! Signage told us that pets were allowed, you could come in on any non-event days and even promoted exercise on the multitude of stairs at the venue. Colorado is such a cool state. If this was California, they’d charge you to park, charge you for entry and shoot you if you brought a dog onsite.

We left Cleo to stay warm in the van and made our way into the amphitheater. The videos we’d seen of concerts and shows held here don’t do it justice. The seating is steep and so well made that it seems a part of the red rock landscape. The concession stands are even perfectly placed at the sides of the main seating area that they seem a part of the mountain.

We moved all over the venue, getting a front row look at the stage, a view of where performers must make their fast exit after a show and all the way to the top where the view of the stage and the surroundings really came together. Such a simple construction with a couple hundred rows of simple bench seating, the brass seat number plates and the red brick construction just made the whole place feel perfect.

We enjoyed a slow meander back down the stairs and took in the views of Denver city, wishing that we could have learnt more about the place from the visitor’s center. It would have been great to see what it looked like before any construction but we let our imaginations do the work for us.

Back at the van, the shade from the red rocks moved so quickly that we had to move to be in the sun again for lunch. Cleo got a nap in while we chowed into some ready-made noodles that Debi had given us.

Ok snowboarding!

As we drove west on highway 70, I looked back on past camps to remember just where we’d stayed the last times we were in the area. The Vail, Breckenridge corridor along highway 70 is notoriously difficult for finding camps and each year, the locals seem to crack down more and more on us vanners. It was getting late in the day so we ditched our Breck plan and opted to get a few runs in at Keystone instead. We hadn’t planned to visit this mountain since every previous trip to it had been an icy disappointment but it was the closest mountain and had the closest, surest camp.

We parked up at 2pm at an emptying lot and got straight into our gear and on the mountain. We had a gondola to ourselves and enjoyed the cruise up the steep hill, knowing we’d be met with cold, cold wind at the summit. We were right about the cold but thankfully the wind wasn’t too much.

We rode straight off the backside of the mountain and within a minute, we were off the groomed runs and into the trees where the powder was outstanding. I had to remember how to board in powder it had been so long! We were finding freshies the whole way down and when I fell on my arse on an icy patch in the middle of a groomer, I went back to tree hunting.

Our lift ride back up got stuck at the very bottom so I chatted with the liftie and discovered we’d caught the last run on the back side of the mountain since it was past 3pm so we were happy we’d made it.

Back at the Summit, we got one more glorious powder run in before taking our final lift and run down to the base. The sun had faded behind the mountain by our last run and I had to stop mid-run to put my hands down my pants and warm them up. Colorado snow is so good because it stays so cold, but you pay for it in your fingertips!

As we meandered slowly through the medium-sized crowd in the village, we were happy to walk past the queue for a $20 crepe and the overcrowded gas fire straight to our humble abode.

The low fuel warning had come one as we drove into Keystone so we were scared to use the diesel heater and embarrass ourselves by running out. We changed and got on the road so we could fill up and find camp before it got dark.

We just made it too, parking at a scenic overlook on highway 70, halfway between Breckenridge and Keystone. There is a “no tenting” sign and plenty of trucks parked up for the night so we are hopeful. Cell service wasn’t great, but I still attempted a call to my parents which required me standing out in the cold and after a quick catch, was ultimately unsuccessful. We were disappointed we wouldn’t be able to watch Dakar, but kept ourselves entertained by cooking a hearty dinner and watching a show about Carlos Sainz.

By the time we went to bed, it was 1*F outside and 60*F inside. Easily the coldest night of the trip but with a full tank of diesel, we weren’t shy using the heater.

Diesel Freezes at 14*F (-10*C)

We woke with the sun and opted to just get dressed and head off, to do the breakfast dance at the Breckenridge parking lot. When Dan went to start Berta though, she cranked and cranked, but didn’t start. Dan had been watching the temperature gauge overnight and it got down to -6*F so we figured it was something to do with the cold. He tried a few more times, pumping the throttle, but soon the starter motor was sounding tired. We figured something in the fuel system was frozen. Upon reading the manual, we learnt a lot about diesel fuel!

Ultra low sulfur diesel contains paraffin and at very low temperatures, it can separate from the fuel and prevent it from flowing freely. This is also called “gelling”. Diesel can therefore be used at outside temperatures of down to 14*F (-10*C) without any impairment. Well, it was still about 1*F so we were obviously impaired! The manual told us about flow improvers, a fuel additive used to improve flow characteristics at these extreme cold temperatures. Ok, so we felt pretty stupid having not known about this, but we are first time diesel owners. Now what to do about it.

The manual specifically says not to attempt to heat any part of the fuel system with a naked flame of heat gun, so that’s exactly what we did. Dan find a nice little nook in the engine bay where the Buddy heater could sit on low and warm the engine bay. We did that for about half an hour, but once the sun came out full force, we figured we’d better not risk it. We couldn’t have parked any better for mother nature to do the work for us. The van was pointing straight at the sun and she was fully in it as soon as it peeked over the mountains. And so we waited. I made muffins in the oven, read my book, Dan checked the fuses (sorry, no luck this time) then listened to a podcast, both of us with one eye on the temperature gauge. When it got to 14*F, Dan couldn’t help himself and gave it another go, but we just got another tired sounding starter motor. Right, we had only a couple more attempts, so no more risking it.

Once at 25*F, we figured that was the best we were going to get. We connected the jump pack just to be sure we’d have enough juice and Dan gave it a go. The initial try was the same, but after a quick rest and another attempt, she cranked and cranked, then coughed a little, then a little more. “Come on baby!” “You got this Berta!” She turned over and idled beautifully. We were elated. There were high fives and hugs and our moods both lifted instantaneously. We’d both been quiet all morning, contemplating what our day would look like and how long we’d be stuck and so we were relieved to have figured out the problem.

It was about 10:30am when we got out of there, so the cost of our ignorance was pretty low. We drove to the first auto parts store, thankfully only five minutes away and the gentlemen at Napa kindly gave me a lesson on diesel anti-gel treatment – the fix in the bottle that we needed. The 1L bottle they sold me would treat 160 gallons of fuel and they assured me that you couldn’t hurt anything by adding too much. Back at the van, I figured out one bottle could do 6 tanks of fuel, so I marked off 5 segments, giving us a generous safety factor. Dan added 1/5th to the tank straightaway and we also dumped some anti-ice stuff in the washer fluid.

Back to holidaying! The Breckenridge parking lots were stacked but we managed to talk our way into the main lot and slide into a spot right under the gondola. After all our shenanigans, we had paid for parking ($25) and were on the gondola at noon.

The mountain wasn’t too crowded and we quickly remembered its layout, going from Peak 7 to Peak 6, all the way over to Peak 9 and finding powder wherever we could get it. We didn’t have to look very hard.

At one point we were on a chair lift and I spotted the t-bar lift that I’d been so determined to ride last year. Well now it was open! We made a bee-line for it, riding a catwalk and joining the line at the t-bar, discovering that it is a two-person lift! This would be a first for both of us and we watched closely as others, mostly skiers, mounted the t-bar and started their ride up the hill. The attrition rate was about 1 in 5, with fallen skiers and boarders having to abandon their ride and join the back of the line in shame after stuffing up their loading or losing balance after getting going.

When it was our turn, we tried our best and very nearly lost it, but the liftie shouted at us to stand up straight and that got us set. We held on to the bar and to each other for dear life. After a few dozen meters we got comfortable enough, then settled in for the unique ride to the top of the mountain. We were laughing the whole way, this was nearly as good as riding down the mountain!

At the top, we dismounted successfully and went the opposite way of the crowds to the double-black diamond runs to take us down. I was cautious at the top, but we soon found some beautiful, untouched powder that carried us all the way down to another lift. 

We were straight back to the t-bar for another ride and this time Dan put his side of the bar between his legs. Much better on his leg muscles and it made the both of us more stable. The ride was such hard work that we unbuckled and cracked a beer at the top, sitting on a ledge to take in the view of the valley below. By the time we were done, wind was whipping snow in our faces and it was time to get down. We followed the same lines and made our way down to the very base of the mountain.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in high spirits across the left side of the mountain and when it came time to get back to Cleo, we took the four o’clock run home, gliding down gentle catwalks all the way back to a tunnel the lead to the carpark. We split off then, Dan heading straight towards Berta while I went to fill up with water at the welcome center. The water system had frozen last night and at noon it still hadn’t thawed so I was being cautious. To my great delight, I found a little library inside the center and it was stacked! Two of the books I’d brought with me were terrible so I picked up a few from the library, stoked to be able to replace my shit reads.

I met Cleo and Dan in the carpark and we ran around like the happy idiots we are. With nowhere to be in a hurry, cell service to use and $25 to make the most of, we stripped out of our snowboarding clothes, put the heater on, enjoyed a cold beer and some Dakar. It was 9pm and crucially, 12*F, when we started Berta and left the empty carpark. No issues there!

We were headed back to last night’s camp, but took a detour to check out a trailhead that I’d noticed in the morning. It was right off the highway exit roundabout and took us about a mile away from the busy corridor to a quiet turnaround that was empty apart from a truck with its lights on and a group of people who were packing up presumably after a walk in the woods. Again, there were “no tenting” signs which we ignored and got ourselves parked level. Our friends left soon after and so Cleo had a run around before we called it a night.

Vail

It didn’t get nearly as cold last night, but we still held our breath when we cranked Berta. She started right up. Hard to believe a cup of fluid fixes all problems, but in this case it does! We said goodbye to our brilliant camp, happy to have had a completely isolated stop for the first time on our trip. The sun poked through the trees and made us smile as we drove out.

A forty minute drive took us to this next mountain and we thoroughly confused ourselves with parking. We were trying to remember the layout from last year and completely got it wrong, but we were parked on level ground, looking at the mountain just before 9am. We did pay $40 for the privilege, but hey, that’s Vail.

Our timing was perfect because right on 9am, I was able to register for the Wente 8-hour MTB race, something I’d missed out on last year. Riding on that high, we took our sweet time getting ready. I made us a huge breakfast and then we dawdled putting our gear on as I was messaging work people back and forth, trying to see if we could get away with extending our trip since SSRL had shut down due to a safety problem.

Cleo was upfront on duty and we were on the gondola by about 11am. Not a huge crowd, we snuggled into the ride with another group and smiled at the prospect of another day on the snow.

After taking a short ride to another chair, we found ourselves being windswept at the top of the hill and didn’t waste any time getting into the trees. We found powder immediately and floated through it all.

Our next run, we made a plan and, as usual, I completely changed it when I saw an opening in a rope and we ducked through it to find a huge open field of fluffy white stuff. Hardly anyone had been on it! We were laughing the whole way down, splitting the few baby pines that stuck out through the snow, otherwise doing 180s and flips to our heart’s content and falling often.

We continued our exploring, doing one run in the legendary back bowls and declaring them not very legendary. More trees! We did a cool run through an alleyway that was a tight and twisting course through a steep valley. It was bloody hard work in places, but worth it. We stopped to watch a few kids that couldn’t have been more than ten years old do some huge drops! We needed a break after that run so were happy to see a lift and get on it.

Our next run we rode straight past that same lift and found ourselves descending down the front side of the mountain. It wasn’t really our plan, but when we saw the village, we figured we might as well go all the way down and check on Cleo. We were tricking ourselves and we knew it. It was nearly 2:30pm so we knew we wouldn’t be back.

Cleo was happy to see us and I was happy to see the bowl of hot noodles Dan put in front of me. We watched the crowds and the snow lightly falling as we ate and soon made the call that we wouldn’t be heading back up the mountain. After all this talk of extending our trip, in reality, our legs couldn’t really take it.

For testing purposes, we set up the TV for viewing from bed and watched the Dakar. Dan only made it halfway through the hour-long highlights he was so buggered.

By 6pm, the carpark was a lonely place and the snow continued falling gently all around us. I had a bit of cabin fever so opted to take Cleo for a tour around the village. When I stepped out of the van, my boots landed on about an inch of fresh snow and huge flakes landed gently on my head. Cleo looked ready for Vail’s fancy village with her op-shop snow jacket and despite her fear of rain, she didn’t mind the snow falling on her nose.

We wandered through the dimly lit village, looking into shop windows, admiring the Christmas trees lit up in the squares and watching the tourists packed shoulder to shoulder in every restaurant and pub.

We ended our tour with a walk along the river then found a spritely Dan ready to take us to camp. Driving east on highway 70, Dan took it slowly, wary of the falling snow and potential ice on the road. It was the first time we’d driven in the proper dark and though the full moon helped light our way, it wasn’t a nice time to drive.

At the town of Minturn, we turned off the highway and after passing through the small town, came upon our regular camp, now known as Camp Kenny thanks to the dog we met last year. We weren’t game to drive all the way down to the gate where we normally park thanks to thick snow, but we were perfectly happy to park it next to the dilapidated cabin underneath the old miner’s railway.

Peering out through the door, the scenery lit by the full moon was beautiful and we enjoyed watching the snow fall onto the roof fan before falling asleep.

Powdery Beaver

Continuing our tour of Colorado mountains from East to West, our last stop was Beaver Creek. I took Cleo for a long walk down to the real Camp Kenny and I reminisced about the dog we rescued and hoped that he was having a good life with a new owner somewhere. Cleo was in heaven sniffing her way through the ankle-deep snow.

At Beaver Creek, we were happy to find that parking is only $10 for the day and when we rolled in at 8am, we had our pick of the lot. We had ample people watching to do as we ate a hot breakfast and slowly got ready for a day of boarding. We started meandering over to the bus around 10am and got straight onto one that took us to the Beaver Creek Lodge. Just after we’d left, despite never having asked him this before, I asked Dan if he’d locked the car and the look on his face was the answer. With unreasonable, he stood up as the bus drove up the hill, pushing the lock button and hoping to see hazard lights flash on the van that was at least 200 meters away. I laughed at him. When everyone got off the bus at the top, he stayed on for the ride back down.

At the lodge, I took my time getting ready, filling my water and scoring a nice beanie that had been left behind by someone in the bathroom. I got into the singles line at the main lift and went straight to the front of the growing queue to get a ride up. It was a weird feeling being on the mountain with a friend, it was a first for me, even if I was just riding a chair.

After I buckled in at the top, Dan called and he was at the base of the lift. Instead of him waiting for me to ride down, he came up while I basked in a lazy chair in front of the lodge at the top of the chair. I people watched and enjoyed the sun’s warmth on my face until I saw my husband riding the chair and he saw me immediately. He said it was a good thing he’d gone back down because the sun had come out and he’d needed to crack the windows to keep Cleo from overheating.

We spent the next three hours riding all across Beaver Creek mountain. Every part of it was heavenly. There was ample powder in the trees and even some on the main runs. I’d say this was my first day of feeling properly comfortable and got back into doing my 180* jumps and riding switch way more. I lead us into way too many sets of thick trees and ran into one, with my board thankfully, but we were smiling all the way.

On the right side of the mountain we found McCoy Park, which didn’t mean anything really, except that there were no groomed runs, just spread out areas with powder and some tree sections. At one point, I lost sight of Dan, then heard him yell, “Baby! Baby! Come here!” When I got out of the trees I was stuck in, I saw him gliding away from me, creating a fresh line with his hands shaking in the air as is praising the Gods of Snow. I soon followed with equal enthusiasm.

On our last run down, I had to be very creative to find a place to pee in the trees, but once that was taken care of, we chased the powder all the way home. We perfectly timed a bus down the mountain and happily greeted Cleo and cooked up burgers for lunch.

We rolled out around 3pm, eager to get a few miles under our belts for the drive across the Park City in Utah. Happy to be driving during the day, we left the growing clouds over Beaver Creek for sunshine and blue skies. Glenwood Canyon was impressive as ever, coated in white with the Colorado River running below us.

In the town of Rifle, we stopped to stock up on beer and a few other essentials then crossed the highway to the town’s rest area and discovered that it was a familiar place. We’d camped here before with Ramsie and from memory, I directed us to the boat ramp parking where we’d be out of the way.

Cleo and I took a walk along the river to watch the sunset and I called my parents for a much needed catch up. They were eager to hear how Berta was getting on and I was eager to tell them about the diesel fuel freezing fuck up. We talked until it was dark then retired into the warm van for the night. It was an early one for all.

Urban Camp 

Big drive today from Colorado to Utah. After taking Cleo for a quick walk and making a light breakfast, we continued on our path west along highway 70. The snowy scenery was beautiful as always but it always reinforces that fact that we’re not interested in living in the stuff.

After crossing into Utah, we filled up in Green River and wondered at the large quantity of hotels in this seemingly bo-hunk town. Everything seemed to advertise adventure in the form of dirt biking, ATV rentals, kayaking etc. but the town was destitute, making the Super 8 and Holiday Inns look out of place. We figured out it got all of its business from the nearby canyon that housed the green river – a small waterway that eventually connected to the Colorado River. Not for us, it was more targeted towards family adventure.

The level of snow rose up and down with the road as we continued on our way and despite the consistent cloud cover, you couldn’t have driven without sunnies on the glare was so high off the powder.

It was mid-afternoon by the time we hit the outskirts of Salt Lake City and passed a Scheels store. Dan asked if I’d ever been and no I’d never heard of it so we pulled off. It was an adventure store, complete with a ferris wheel and aquarium. Perfect! We needed an excuse to stretch out legs and the weather wasn’t too nice out so this was great.

Dan wasn’t lying about the aquarium, it’s the first thing you see when you walk in and I gravitated towards it like a kid. We wandered through the store, heard the blow of compressed air as the ferris wheel stopped and started and while we made a futile attempt at finding Dan some new climbing pants, we mostly just meandered and balked at the high prices of even sale items. We concluded that this was an outdoors store for people who weren’t really that outdoorsy. Yes, we’re snobs.

Further into the city we didn’t have a planned camp but knew we’d most likely be doing an urban one for the first time. Still wanting to stretch our legs, I found us a short hike we could do for sunset.

Berta climbed the hill behind the marvelous State Capitol building and we embarked up to Ensign Peak.

The half mile trail was partly snowy and slippery in places, but we managed to get up easily enough, Cleo happy to be running around in the snow. We’d timed it perfectly. The sun dipped below a band of clouds, long enough to light our walk and give us a dramatic sunset behind the mountains. At the peak, the wind was blustery and after the sun faded, we were quick to head back down.

Surprisingly, not one of us fell on our arse, Cleo included. The view kept changing as we descended and we lingered at a halfway viewpoint to take in the lights of the city before getting down completely.

Now onto our camp search, we tried a trailhead nearby but that was too exposed, so Dan got onto iOverlander and found advice that parking around the Capitol building was unsigned and friendly to RVers. This was completely accurate! We must have done the block and about five u-turns before finally settling on a spot that was close to level, not under any street lights and not too conspicuous.

We shut ourselves in the van while I did some research and Dan some podcasting. By 7pm we had cabin fever so all went out for a walk towards downtown. The Capitol building looks even more impressive when lit up. We ended up shortening our loop because we got scared for Berta sitting all alone but despite passing a homeless tent on the way back up the hill and a seemingly homeless guy at the top of the stairs near our park, nothing was amiss.

There were no disruptions throughout the night and though an urban camp is never ideal, we were stoked to finally have a van that enables us to camp in this way.

Cleo’s Service

As is becoming a regular thing on these trips, at 8am, we dropped Cleo off to Pet Stop Veterinary Clinic. It had been two years since her last check-up with these guys and they are so good (and cheap) that we keep coming back. We spoke with the vet as we dropped her off and at a glance, he seemed impressed with her health. They took her in and let us know she’d be ready by about noon.

With the child in child care, we went off to Park City, a mountain 40 minutes away from the big smoke. Our lone water tank was running low so I scouted a spot at a gas station where we filled up and wow, did it take a while, despite the tap having a fast flow.

At Park City, we parked in the Park City Mountain lot and to our surprise, found signs dictating that reservations were required. After talking to a man in a vest, he told us to just register online and say we had four people in the car which would get us in for nothing. Thanks mate! We did just that, parked up, suited up and headed towards the mountain.

For the first time in our trip, serious snow was forecast for the day and I was excited for the change. Snow flakes were falling on our heads as we approached the first lift, but it soon turned to sideways snow as we rode a chair up the mountain.

Park City is a huge resort and since we were coming back the next day, we figured we’d stick to the side we’d parked on. We didn’t look at any maps, just kept taking different chairs, even a slow 2-person lift that felt intimate for us. I was too tree happy today and the powder was more dense than it had been in Colorado so I got stuck a lot. Dan must have called me three times when he’d made it down the mountain well ahead of me, but I always popped out of some trees to see him waiting for me.

It was around lunch time when Dan noticed some pain in his leg where he’d broken his femur years ago. At first he didn’t think it was an issue, but it started hurting him just pushing his board when getting off a lift. We’d had a good week of riding so he was happy to call it. He’d already got a phone call from the vet saying that Cleo would be ready by 1pm so we didn’t need to hang around longer than we wanted.

When we stuffed up our first attempt at following Home Run down the mountain, we stopped for a beer at one of the lodges. It was not a crowded day, but seating in the lodge was still ridiculous. We just sat outside with our beers instead, pretty well sheltered by the building.

We took one last chair up to try Home Run again and wow it was a long ride. The weather had turned really foul now, with high winds and snow whipping at whatever skin was exposed. By the time we were at the bottom, all of our fingers were numb.

We rushed back to Berta and whipped out the Buddy heater for the first time to get some immediate heat into our hands, then set the diesel heater to warm the space up. Noodles and toast for lunch, we were happy to be inside our warm home watching the weather worsen outside. We were entertained by a pair of dogs in a Dodge Ram van next to us, interested to see we weren’t the only people who chose this lifestyle.

Once we’d had a good rest, we were off to get our doggy. Before heading back to Salt Lake on highway 80, we sussed out a couple of camps that might do for the night and found a trailhead up behind Park City that would do us nicely. Urban camping was ok, but we didn’t want to make a habit of it.

Somewhere near the crest of the highway, I held onto my door handle hard and pushed the hazards button when we saw a truck start fishtailing hard a couple of cars in front of us. His mate in a truck towing a trailer then started doing the same thing and we thought it was all going to go properly pear-shaped. The lead truck must have swerved half a dozen times before he finally straightened out and pulled off to the side of the road, probably just needing a minute to take a breath and think about what just happened.

Thankfully, we had no such issues as the snow turned to rain and we drove into the big city. We got to the vet around 3pm and were happy to hear that Cleo was a picture of health with freshly cleaned teeth, trimmed nails and up-to-date on her vaccinations. All for the low, low price of $680. She practically ran towards us as an assistant brought her out and was up in her lookout spot on the driver’s seat immediately.

Knowing we didn’t want to go far and driving back to our camp in Park City was out of the question, Dan did some hunting and found us a park on the east side of the city. Sugar House Park was huge with only a few homeless tents dotted around its perimeter. A popular dog park with no overnight parking signs and well away from any residential streets, we were happy to call this our home for the night.

I took Cleo out on a walk while Dan found us the perfect spot and she seemed happy enough, but still a little dazed from the anesthetic.

We spent the rest of our afternoon watching Dakar, watching the dog park come alive with after-work residents and their pups and tending to our tender dog. When it came time to make dinner, we tried a new TV configuration, positioning it as far back towards the bed as possible so that Dan could watch from the seats and I could watch from the kitchen. We put on Mumford & Sons’ live concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater and I bounced along as I made pasta. Brilliant.

Park City Solo

Another undisturbed urban camp, a great find from Dan and the clean toilets were a nice bonus. I took Cleo for a long tour about the park, just as other dog walkers started to show up and despite the rain and hail we’d heard hammering the roof in the early hours, it was shaping up to be a sunny day. We took our time making breakfast, then rolled on out of camp with Cleo mostly lying on my lap for the half hour drive to Park City.

We parked at Canyons Village this time where no reservations are required, it’s free and most importantly, you get to take the “Cabriolet” to the main lodge. It’s a unique chair lift with a bucket similar to a hot air balloon which is standing room only and takes you over roads, carparks and thoroughfares to drop you right in the village.

With Cleo in her tender condition, we’d planned to split the day riding, with one of us staying with Cleo in the van, but with Dan’s leg, he opted to sit out the whole day. I felt like a kid graduating from class, having my first test solo. Dan has taught me everything I know about snowboarding and now it was time to put it to work. I was amped. I suited up, my teacher watching me, and he advised where I should place my beers and the steps I had to take to make sure I didn’t puncture the cans while bending over to strap in. This would be my first time carrying the beverages – a service always offered by my husband.

Dan gave me instruction on a new trick I should try, then he sent me off into the world. I only got halfway down the row before turning back, deciding I should have three beers to chug, not just two. The first one was gone before the end of the cabriolet ride. I waved at every car we swung above.

The sun was shining and though the line for the gondola was long, it moved quickly and I was soon shin-deep in powder. Dan told me to stay out of the dense trees, and though it was tempting, I followed his advice. I knew it wouldn’t be fun to get stuck anywhere by myself.

I rode all over the mountain, riding switch whenever I was on a main run and not finding it hard to find fresh powder anywhere. I worked my way from right to left and I don’t think I rode the same lift twice.

Some time around noon, the sun faded behind clouds and snow began to gently fall. I didn’t mind it. Without the horrendous wind of yesterday, it created a beautiful calm atmosphere. What little crowds there were disappeared with the sun and so I took most chairlifts solo, enjoying my music (Mumford & Sons of course) and admiring the views over the huge mountain.

When it was time to head home, I took the orange bubble lift that must be one of the longest rides in the country.

At the top, the wind was starting to pick up, but I didn’t mind. Off I rode through powder, finding a few safe tree runs and thoroughly enjoying getting dug into the snow. Having not mastered the trick Dan had described to me and knowing I was on my last run, I gave it a good go and had a big stack, falling down the hill onto my back and hitting my head, but I was laughing as I put my goggles back on my face. This was snowboarding at its best. Trying stuff, getting lost and not giving a shit.

I got to try out a ripcord to get me up a short runway and only just managed to hold on as my board got stuck in a track then jumped out of it.

Back at the lodge, I was utterly spent. I’d only really intended to ride for a couple of hours, but I’d pretty much done a full day. A solo cabriolet ride down to Berta was the perfect end to my day.

I met a happy Cleo and Dan out in the carpark on a walk and Dan noticed that my clothes were very wet. This was true. I’d spent a lot of time sitting and laying in the snow but I was happy to be warm.

I stripped off, knowing that this might be the last ride for my right boot with its lower BOA guide coming away completely. I’d used it well. We made some lunch from leftovers (alas, we are out of noodles!), caught up on each other’s days, then decided it was time to get out of town.

That morning, I’d received some happy news that work didn’t want me back for my Saturday night shift. Instead, the earliest I’d be needed was Tuesday and even that didn’t seem too likely. With Dan’s injury and my big day, we were satisfied with the snowboarding part of the trip so figured we might take a slow route back home and get in some climbing or riding in the sunnier parts of the country. California was continuing to be hit by “bomb cyclones” and they were expected to continue into the next week so we weren’t super enthusiastic about returning there.

It was 4pm when we rolled out of the emptying carpark so we didn’t plan to go far, just far enough to have a wilderness camp. Two urban camps was more than enough for us outdoorsy folk.

We had an easier time going over the pass than yesterday but once we hit the west side of Salt Lake City, the rain started. Cleo did not like that much and after we stopped to fuel up, it got heavier as we drove west on highway 80.

We were about 20 minutes away from our planned camp at a rest stop when it started getting dark and Dan had to use all his might to keep Berta on the road. Cleo was clambering all over my lap, shaking in panic as rain pelted the windscreen completely sideways, making Berta sway violently. Dan felt that we were going to tip over and I didn’t blame him. I yelled out multiple times at the fierceness of the wind and feared for our lives more than the solar panels flying off the roof. He put the hazards on and slowed right down and we were thankful there weren’t many other cars on the road. Tumbleweeds raced across the road with such speed, it made us yelp. When an exit was offered, Dan took it. The rain had turned to snow by the time we pulled off, crossed a cattle grate and parked it on a dirt road leading who knows where. We were all terrified and happy to be stopped. Within a minute, the windscreen was completely covered in snow. Maybe we’d be buried overnight?

Thankfully the weather cleared after we’d been rocked around for about an hour and by that point, I had pizzas in the oven.

Winnemucca

In the morning, Cleo and I took a walk up the dirt road we were parked on to the top of the rise and saw over the other side where the black cows had grouped together for the night. It was a cold morning with frosted ground, which was good for our descent from the ridge.

We made our way west on highway 80, opting to just do coffee before heading off. Sick of our podcasts, I found us an audiobook “Elvis and Me” written by Mrs. Presley and we were engulfed immediately.

Within an hour we were out of Utah and into Nevada, with casinos marking our entrance into the state. The red cliffs covered with snow were replaced with vast shallow salt lakes that stretched out for miles to distant brown snowy peaks. Looking out across the wet plains, we could see multiple vehicle tracks tracing through the mud and I wondered if these were the salt flats where world speed records were attempted. Surely not, they looked much too wet.

We pulled into a rest area for a late breakfast and while taking Cleo for a tour around the rest area, we could walk right up to the edge of a salt lake.

When I saw a sign, I was excited to read about whatever history this rest area had and I was surprised to find that we were standing before Bonneville Salt Flats – the site of world land speed records! While I’m not usually one to take photos of signs, I couldn’t help myself with this one. While reading, I said “Fuck!” out loud in amazement twice, so I had to take it back to the van for Dan to have a read. Over 300 mph in 1935? Fuck! More than 600 mph only a few decades later? Fuck! A human wouldn’t even be able to see at that speed!

I put it in my journal, we would be back to Bonneville for Speed Week. I wanted to see what 600 mph looked like.

Onwards, we didn’t have any destination or activity planned today but we were determined to break up the driving. Our best options were mountain biking in either Oasis or Winnemucca. Oasis was a bust because we could see how snowy the mountains were from the highway – not even worth a shot.

As we drove into Winnemucca, we tried out the name on our tongues and found our way to the “Bloody Shins” trailhead. Interested name for a trail network, but it instilled some enthusiasm. What crushed that enthusiasm was the cold temperature, snow covering the single track and the cloudy sky. We went for a foot spin instead, Cleo running along the narrow trail as if chasing a bike.

Having stretched our legs, I made some lunch and we sat back to watch some Dakar. The coverage of the final day of the first week had us with our hands over our mouths in shock at the misfortune of some of the competitors. Following that, we took another quick walk around the trailhead, discovering a wolf carcass that Cleo had a lot of interest in.

It was pretty well dark by then so we were ready for camp. Needing beer, we stopped in at a Walmart and somehow, we spent over $100. I paid $10 for 18 eggs! What the hell is the world coming to? It wasn’t a full shop, just a few things to tide us over!

Not needing to try too hard for a camp, we left Winnemucca and pulled off at the next rest area. Not wanting to be sheep, we drove straight past it onto a dirt road that lead somewhere. After a few hundred meters, we pulled off to a flat spot and made that home, the rest area not really in our sight.

Northstar Surprise

Again determined to break up a monotonous drive across a bleak-looking Nevada, I scouted some climbing at Pyramid Lake and another area just east of Reno. Surely if the sun was out, it would be just like Owens River Gorge on a bright winter’s day?

Nope. The day started out bright, but the clouds soon came over and the pale landscape of Nevada was made ever more brown by the washed out sky.

Cleo and I found a full cow’s carcass on our morning walk and wondered where all his mates were. When we left camp, we drove through the rest area to perhaps fill our water tank and after doing about three laps of the place, determined that the two available faucets were incompatible with our hose. No matter, onwards into the west and hearing about Elvis!

When we stopped at a rest area for morning tea, we put Elvis music on, just for something different.

At the turn off to Pyramid Lake, we remembered driving through the small town of Wadsworth on our way to Burning Man three years ago. It didn’t look any better than it had then. We stepped outside the van for a temperature test and confirmed that we would not be climbing. Way too cold.

That put us in Tahoe for the afternoon and it became obvious that we should snowboard. I had to get used to the idea since I’d pretty much put my gear away after my Park City day. My neck muscles were still sore from my stack and I wasn’t sure my body could handle another day on the slopes.

As soon as we crossed the border into California, the sky was blue as could be. Not what we expected when the rest of California was being deluged by rain, we figured it would be snowing or at least threatening to. We pulled into the familiar Northstar parking lot, finding it hard to believe we’d been touring for so many weeks with Berta and made it back to where we’d started the journey.

We ignored the signs that told us the upper parking lot was full and drove through a very crowded lot to find a typical Colin Edwards park right at the door. It was 2pm by the time we started meandering over to the gondola. Cleo was stoked to have a “rest”, a chance to simply sit in the front seat and be on lookout instead of shifting all over her perch while driving.

The village was dead and we kept expecting someone to tell us we were going the wrong way. The people that we did see were done skiing for the day so it felt weird to be just getting started. We crushed a beer each on the gondola up then were quickly onto the Vista Express after noticing their promotional car was unhelpfully buried in snow.

The snow was plentiful but the powder looked sticky so Dan instructed me to be wary, saying that this was the type of snow you could easily do a front flip in.

We took a quick ride down to Comstock then spent the rest of the afternoon riding it up and down. By the second run, I was hysterically laughing as we cut fresh lines through the snow. Yes it was a little sticky and slowed us down a lot, but if you kept your momentum and kept your nose up, it was the ride of a lifetime.

I swear I’m so easily impressed by a simple line through some fresh powder. To get through the deep stuff, I had to carry a little more speed than I’m comfortable with and that made me yell out in fear, but that quickly turned to excitement, disbelief, pure joy. I made Dan stop and look back at one point I was carrying on so much but when he saw my smile he knew all was well.

I wish it was a feeling you could bottle. I could not wipe the smile off my face. Every fall was inconsequential, with every lift the mountain became more isolated, every run was bliss. I just couldn’t stop laughing every time I cut through some new powder.

During one of our last runs, I got caught in powder and just stood there watching Dan as he floated in front of me, weaving through a couple of trees making a clean carve through the snow. This was amazing.

We raced down to Comstock for one last ride to the top and made it with two minutes to spare. Now we could really take our time. We turned left off the lift and took in the view of Lake Tahoe, seeing great reflections of the trees on its glassy surface. Once we dipped into the trees, we were in snow above our knees and loving every bit of it. I did my first front flip, somersaulting through the powder and landing on my back. I felt my sore neck muscles flex as they’d done a couple of days before and just lay there and laughed until I could bring myself to lift my head.

We were laughing all the way down. A beautifully slow Foo Fighters song came on for me as we took the catwalk in the village and I really wondered if it could get any better than this. We’d been on the road for over three weeks, spent some great time with family, skied on the best snow we’d ever had and now we were back on home soil gliding through powder.

Happy that we’d only done two hours of riding, we sauntered through the village and back to Berta. Cleo was a happy girl and we put on some music and danced away as we got out of our snowboarding gear.

Once the carpark had emptied, we moved to a more secluded area where we could enjoy some chips and salsa and Dakar. There were yet more upsets in the cars with Carlos Sainz head butting a dune with his electric Audi. This was a tough Dakar.

With no snow in the forecast for the night, we camped up at our old regular, Martis Creek. No neighbors when we pulled up and no new signs trying to get rid of us. Within an hour we had company in the form of a huge truck camper. We’d seen it in the Northstar parking lot, called “The Hefalump”. It was anything but subtle but we didn’t mind the company.

I cooked us dinner and immediately after eating, I hit a wall hard and crawled into bed. Dan stayed up a while and the three of us spread out as much as possible. I had the bedroom, Cleo the kitchen (lying on the kitchen bench) and Dan in the living room, lounged across both front chairs.

Northstar Nasty Surprise

We took taking our time to a whole new level on this, our last day in the snow. Tomorrow marked the start of a long weekend and therefore a blackout day for us, so there was no question we’d be heading home after a bit more fun on the mountain. It was nice to do our usual routine from Martis Creek. My alarm went off at 6am which meant Dan and Cleo climbed out of bed and drove us over to Northstar. In bed, I looked out the roof fan, imagining where we were along the route based on the sways to the left and right.

Dan parked it expertly and while we both imagined going straight back to bed, when I took Cleo out for a walk, it turned into a long one. We toured the quiet village, watching the lifts arrive for work while I did my best not to slip and fall on the early morning ice.

Back at Berta, Dan was back in bed but I was awake so I sat up blogging, Cleo keeping my feet company awhile on the opposite seat, but I put her in bed when her eyes started drooping.

Sitting at the window, I could see the crowds starting to move towards the gondola and enjoyed the bright early morning sun. The other two were still sound asleep as I made myself oats for breakfast, then sat and finished my book. Dan rose about 9:30am and somehow we killed the rest of the morning inside the van. He made himself breakfast while I continued reading and by the time we geared up and got out, it was almost noon!

The sun was being beaten out by clouds at this stage and the forecasted snow looked about to start. We took the slow gondola up to the Ritz and I kept up a conversation with a guy that was on holiday from Washington DC. He told us that in the last week, the Nevada side of Heavenly had been closed due to the vast amounts of snow they’d had. They were unable to dig out lifts after overnight snow and as a result, less than a third of the whole mountain was open. He would be staying in the area during the storm forecasted to dump 3-5 feet over the weekend and so we wished him a safe stay.

We took the bunny hill down to the main lifts and soon found ourselves on the Zephyr Express. The sun had completely left us now and with the wind picking up, we were both cold by the top of the lift. With at lodge right at the top of the ride, Dan suggested we go in to warm up and I didn’t protest. We found a table in the corner and shared a beer, reflecting on the trip we’d had.

I admitted that I wasn’t feeling it today. After the pure ecstasy of yesterday, my body was tired and the wind and snow just made me feel as though it would be hard work. We also mused that it would be wise to get out of town before the snow really started coming down so we could avoid chain control over Donner Pass. Dan was on the same page, so once we were warm, we headed for Home Run – a route that would take us right back to the van.

Visibility was so bad that we stuffed it up and ended up at the bottom of Martis mountain, having to ride another lift to get us out. There weren’t many skiers out now and we were thankful that the wind was lighter on the back side of the mountain.

We followed the signs religiously now to just get ourselves down to the village. We were holding our hands up to our faces to protect our exposed skin from the whipping wind and I tilted my head every which way in an attempt to see through my goggles. It wasn’t fun, but we managed.

We kept our speed past the Vista lift and rode all the way down to the village without issue. We got snowed on as we walked through the village and once back at Berta, I overheard a guy saying that the Zephyr lift we’d just taken was now closed, likely due to safety because visibility was so bad. Either that or the wind? It was time to go.

It took us about ten minutes to de-gear, stash the snowboards and get on the road. It was about 2pm and we didn’t want to waste any time getting out. No chains required yet but it wouldn’t be long.

About 5 minutes after getting onto highway 80 westbound, we hit stopped traffic. It was at a complete standstill. Tuning to a local radio station, we found out that westbound traffic had been completely stopped due to multiple spinouts near Donner Summit and eastbound wasn’t much different. We’d just passed an exit so didn’t have an option to get off and so we turned the engine off and I went in the back to heat up some leftovers for a late lunch. We didn’t move again until about 3:30pm and even then it was a crawl of about 100 meters. Dan knew that chain control was a little ways ahead and some truckers had started putting chains on right where they stood. That made the traffic move even less, but we didn’t play any lane-changing games.

Thankful for the webcams posted at various points along the highway, we witnessed utter chaos higher up the mountain. It was a complete white-out and cars were moving all over the place. We even saw one car do a u-turn and drive in the wrong direction down the highway. Eek!

While we waited, we tried to make the best call on what to do. We were in no rush to get home but knew it wasn’t going to stop snowing for the next three days. Dan made the call that we should push on and at least get low enough for the snow to turn to rain then decide whether to go any further today.

We got to the chain control station just before it got dark and Dan found a great spot way off the main road. This would be our first time using our new-style Konig chains. Recommended and found on Facebook marketplace by our mate Ross, they had a self-tightening design so that you put them on and simply drive off instead of mucking around with driving a little ways then tightening them. Ross had given us a dry run in our driveway and we were thankful for it, it gave us confidence putting them on in the slushy snow.

It was a two-man effort just to make sure we’d done it properly, then I supervised as Dan drove a little bit, just to make sure everything looked right. They looked great so we merged ourselves back into the traffic.

The men in vests were a short ways down the road checking that everyone had either chains or AWD and I marveled at how a little Nissa Versa was allowed through with only rubber boots. We came upon that car on the way to Donner Summit and I told Dan to stay the hell away the 2WD no-chain monster.

As soon as we were past the men in vests, we drove a steady 20-30mph, keeping in our lane and avoiding the silly tailgating and lane-swapping that went on around us. It was a stressful drive, not only for Dan but for Cleo who was scared of the noise of the windscreen wipers, let alone snow and slush smashing into the car.

We were happy to reach the summit and start our decline, but the snow kept falling with fury. Thankfully there was no stopping or starting and we cruised down until the snow started turning to rain. The chains shook and rattled the van and I was pretty impressed with the relatively minimal noise and vibration we heard from the rear.

After passing a sign that said chain control continued for 10 miles, we could see wet tarmac before us and rain was falling. When a chain removal area came up, we took the opportunity. There were a couple of trucks and cars doing the same thing, but we were aware this wasn’t the official end of chain control. Dan decided that it would be stupid to carry on with chains for another 10 miles in these conditions so we took the risk and pulled off.

We weren’t super far away from the moving traffic so we were cautious. Dan removed the chains while I provided light and looked back towards the moving cars so I could yell out if anyone was on a dangerous trajectory. Dan had to move Berta forwards a couple of times to disconnect one set of chains, but we were soon ready to move on.

Dan sloughed through the slushy snow and got us back into the traffic. To our horror, only five minutes later, the snow returned and we were climbing steadily uphill. We’d gone too early. Dan kept his wits though and Berta didn’t slide an inch. It was a worrying mile or so, but the rain was soon with us again and we were safe. As we drove past Kingvale, I got back onto the webcam and managed to spot Berta as she drove past the camera. We now have third party evidence that Berta lives!

The official end of chain control was a mess. Cars and trucks everywhere, it would have been way less safe to take the chains off there so in hindsight it was a good call.

Seeing a sign for a rest area in 14 miles was very welcome and the one after that saying we were at 3,000 ft elevation was even better. We could camp now and not fear being stuck in the snow.

Unfortunately the rest area was closed so we fell back to our saved camps and I directed us to a pull-out on a side road of the highway in less than ten minutes. That was enough of that. We rejoiced at still being alive with no added dents or scrapes to Berta and though the camp wasn’t the best, it didn’t make any difference – we’d be safe for the night.

Home?

No rush to get anywhere, but we just made breakfast, tidied the van and got going. Cleo hadn’t been to the bathroom since yesterday morning (fear of going outside in the rain), but I coaxed her out and she did her thing amongst some bushes. That gave us confidence we’d get home without any accidents.

The rain was steady as we continued our descent into Sacramento. Google Maps told us that our route home may be affected by flooding in the Sacramento area and they weren’t far wrong. Once near the municipality, the rain got so bad we nearly came to a stop on the four lane highway. You could see the heavy rain coming in waves in front of us, it was bloody terrifying. Cleo’s whole body was shaking from the noise and we were shaking from the lack of visibility.

Thankfully, it only reached that intensity once for about five minutes, then we just had the steady stuff the rest of the way home. Dan keenly avoided a big bout of traffic due to a recent accident by getting off the highway and we took the scenic route through Vallejo while listening to our Elvis Presley book.

The Bay Area was shrouded in grey and the water a choppy brown. Yuk. It’s sad that this is what our neighbors had been dealing with the whole holiday period.

The 101 was a smooth ride and we were in familiar territory all too soon. Pulling into our driveway, everything looked just as we’d left it, just much wetter. The vans were ok, the SVT all good, our outdoor furniture still there but growing moss. We dipped into the garage to see if water had seeped in but everything was dry. We’d escaped the atrocities that some of our friends had gone through with flooded garages and more.

Upstairs we were grateful to our past-selves for tidying the apartment so well and it didn’t smell too stale. Checking the mail, I was happy to find a cheque for $136 dollars refunding an amount I’d overpaid my dentist and a $700 cheque from the California government for being a middle class family in need! We installed Cleo on the couch and went straight to the pub in the SVT for a celebratory lunch.

Berta came home with 170,670 miles on her clock. We’d traveled 3,756 miles, driven through five states, visited eleven family members, skied seven mountains, toured one mountain bike component factory, seen one outdoor amphitheater and had a fucking great time. This is more than we ever dared imagine would be possible with this van. Thanks Berta.

12/21/2022 – 1/14/2023