Miraculously, I had chosen a pleasant campsite with even more agreeable neighbors and pleasant weather to boot. I was quick to explain our middle-of-the-night appearance. It may have caused them some consternation to awake that morning and view our dented van, lopsided tent and disheveled looks.

The campground I had chosen was near the Green River. My favorite aspect of this particular stay was the opportunity to further imagine Major Powell’s journey. I envisioned what he had already experienced and thought about the thrill and treachery of rapids and canyons yet to come.

With our trauma of the previous evening, I wanted a mellow day for the kids. I let them rest whilst I puttered about. Later that morning, we ventured to the visitor center and learned they had a Junior Ranger AND Junior Paleontologist program. The kids decided they wanted to tackle paleontology first. We wandered around the center some, watching a video while awaiting the quarry tram.

Sadly, a few weeks previous, we had learned the Quarry had been closed due to safety issues. Apparently, the building had been constructed on an unstable foundation of rock similar in appearance to popcorn. This exposed quarry was originally set up to allow all comers to experience fossils in situ on a grand scale, hopefully giving anyone an opportunity to thrill at their size and variety.

The building had been erected in the 1950’s and almost immediately started cracking. By 2006, the structure was emitting groans and a structural inspection was ordered. The engineers’ findings stated that the park superintendent was “playing Russian roulette” with visitors and park staff. They have no immediate plans to refurbish the facility because any new construction faces the same foundation problem and the building is on the National Register of Historic Buildings and cannot be significantly altered without endangering its historic status.

The tram left us at the top of the hill where we set out on a hike which would lead us past numerous dinosaur fossils jutting from the surrounding rock. We puttered down the trail and back into the visitor center where the kids studied other specimens, asked questions of the rangers and eventually earned their badge.

With schoolwork completed for the day, we headed into Vernal to see if we could track down my nephew, Adam, before he went to work that evening. Unfortunately, by the time I reached him, he was heading out to the oil fields. We picked up a few things at the grocery store, grabbed a bite to eat and headed back to the park for a quiet evening around camp.

The following day was dedicated to first cleaning out and organizing the van, then tackling the Junior Ranger badge. This badge had some significant challenges and great opportunities for the kids to interact with nature. One activity took us to the Green River to look for larvae of insects native to the park. Their assignment was to pick up rocks in search of the baby insects and mark down every one found. It was pretty comical when Kira overturned one rock and there was a HUGE half centipede/half whatever under the rock. Grange was thrilled while Kira was grossed out and even I was a bit taken aback by its size, wondering what gargantuan flying insect was a product of that science fiction creature.

After losing ourselves on one hiking trail, we visited a petroglyph site on our way to the Josie Bassett Morris cabin. An early homesteader, she represented the pioneering spirit of frontier women, probably settling in one of the few places on earth at that time where a woman could set the course of her own destiny. For over sixty years, she lived alone in this lovely oasis of fruit trees, grapevines and flowers. The location possesses a rustic romance although charm was probably not an adjective for the rugged living her own private Idaho afforded.

 

Evening was settling into the valley and it was time to head back to our campsite. I was neither highly motivated to start a fire nor cook up a big meal. We were a little road weary and willing to dine on whatever was available in the cooler. A mellow night of reading and talking suited us all. I was fairly worn out by night time and in need of a good rest. Tomorrow we were heading for home.

The next morning, the kids and I were excited to clean up camp and move on down the road. We stopped by the visitor center to pick up their Junior Ranger badges, then headed for Vernal to meet Adam for breakfast. He suggested Betty’s Cafe which turned out to be a treasure of a breakfast spot. The cafe featured the best homemade raspberry jam I have ever tasted. It was so good that I ordered a huge take home container and savored the sweet jam over the next few weeks.

It was time for us to hit the happy trail. Steve had planned a trip to Moab with my brother-in-law, Amer, so we made plans to rendezvous. Of course, I realized this made my “come to Jesus” moment regarding the damage to our brand new van 100 miles sooner than I may have liked. Nonetheless, it was time to show the results of our travels in all of its glorious dents and road grime.

The trip was uneventful. Upon reaching Moab, I phoned Steve and we planned our reunion for the True Value parking lot. Amer stuck around, I’m not sure if it was to make sure Steve had a reliable ride or to be witness first hand to Steve’s reaction to the rearranged front end.

For the rest of my life, I will never forget the look on Steve’s face when the kids and I pulled up. There he and Amer stood while I eased into the parking space. Steve’s arms were crossed. Amer was unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. For maximum effect, I’d left the deer snot smeared across the hood and rear view mirror thinking it may elicit some sympathy for our plight. The large crack in the windshield and multiple bug suicides on the front end shattered any remnants of new car honeymoon glow which may have been lingering in Steve’s imagination.

I bounded out of the car, kissed Steve and handed him the Toyota hood ornament I had scooped up from the highway before leaving the scene of the Bambi slaughter. Amer decided to hit the road before Steve’s shock wore off. The kids and I were a little wooly-booly after three days of camping which didn’t help the overall impression of home school gone awry. A smile broke across his face while he kept shaking his head back and forth, back and forth.

After pasta and enthusiastic renderings of our three weeks adventure, the kids, Steve and I huddled back into the van for the closing 100 miles of our initial odyssey. It was good to be home.