Prepping for journeys

Here I stand on the brink of another road trip, this time to Northern Arizona and I can’t help but think back to the many journeys I have taken in the past. On the brink, waiting, waiting to hit the road.  That breathless excitement of the trip. I’ve experienced ranges of emotions. As little as mild nervousness on my short first trip up north alone to bat-sized butterflies in my stomach as I head to the airport for my flight to Ireland.

Each time is a unique experience in preparation. Some trips have been unassuming, my road trip with mom across the country when I was nine. This trip I only focused on bringing things to stay amused in the back seat. I also remember thinking how great it was that I’d have the whole backseat of the car to myself. I didn’t have to share with my brother and I was so excited about that fact. I remember going on trips in high school when I was still home and without a car. I didn’t have to worry about a working vehicle and in some cases, like Disneyland with school or church or seeing the pope in Colorado, I didn’t even worry about gas. Just packed my bags and hopped in the van.

Early college, my friends and I had cars, tight budgets, and lots of aspirations. We scraped together enough money to pay for a hotel, gas, and cheap eats and headed off to destinations in California like Knott’s Berry Farm, Six Flags, and the beach. Those were early tastes of independence, times when we stretched our wings and were treated as adults when away from our families but still played like kids when the mood struck.

As an adult the trips grew into more into having a better planning, slightly larger budgets, and hotels that were a little nicer. We grew savvy in knowing do’s and don’ts of traveling. With my closest friend, road trips to California were still the norm. They didn’t happen quite as often as they did when we were younger. With adult life came adult responsibilities, school, work, a kid (hers) and it became harder to take trips. The trips though, they were so much fun. Planning was done carefully, trip slightly outlined with a destination in mind but still a chance to relax and go where the wind blew.

More recently it has been bigger trips, bigger adventure and definitely major steps out of my comfort zone. A trip to Ireland with my mom. A short journey to Dana Point, CA again with mom and a longer road trip with her up the coast of California. Most recent were two journey’s all on my own. A week long road trip in November and then a couple months back I went to Houston (by plane).

Every trip has its own level of excitement, of interest, and of curious wonderment of what was to come but every one of them shares one thing in common. Priceless memories. Unique experiences. And every single one packed full of treasures to recall for many years to come.

My getaway that's now home

Before relocating to my current home in Prescott I often found myself traveling here for my regular vacation destination. I stayed in a couple hotels and have even stayed in a rental or two up here. No matter which location I stayed in, I always enjoyed coming up to the cooler climate and enjoying the downtown area which often was packed with events to take in.

One of the first times I found myself up in Prescott (since my childhood) was on a day I decided to "run away" from home. I had a tremendous urge to just leave town go away somewhere, anywhere. I had no idea that day where I'd go. I just grabbed a bag, packed stuff for an overnight and stuffed it into the trunk of my car. I wasn't sure if I'd be gone overnight or just a few hours so I was ready for anything. With little thought and planning I was out the door and on my way north. I drove past Anthem, New River, Black Canyon City nervous to be going out of town and alone. Worried about what I would do if my car broke down. I was worried about where I would go or what I would do but I just couldn't turn around. As worried, and as scared as I was, going home wasn't an option. The fear of disappointing myself was greater than the fear of the unknown so I pressed on.

It wasn't until I spotted a sign for Cordes Junction that I knew my destination. Prescott, I'd go to Prescott and wander the square for a few hours. Who knows perhaps I might even find an affordable hotel and stay the night. I wandered the square as planned. Looked at items I couldn't afford and as the sun began to set I thought about where I could stay. Money was tight for me that weekend and knew I only had a small amount to spare. The struggle of responsibility versus need warred strongly inside me. I knew I shouldn't really spend the money but at the same time, I still couldn't make myself go home. In the end, the need to stay away won out. I found a hotel The Hotel Vendome  and was lucky enough to get a room. The hotel is a historic destination and is rumored to be haunted although I never have experienced anything while inside. My room was beautiful. It was one of the remodeled rooms with a huge tub to soak in and relax but still managed to keep the old time charm the rest of the hotel boasted. I totally enjoyed my stay, had dinner out, purchased some popcorn and ice cream at the Youngs Farm store and wandered back to the hotel. It felt wonderful to relax on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs and enjoy my ice cream.

I've since traveled up to Prescott many times before finally moving but that journey, that overnight stay was the beginning of my journey. The start of my path to moving and following a dream I'd held since high school. One I was too afraid to follow when choosing my college options, I secretly desired to attend Yavapai College but was too afraid to leave home. To me, this trip was a first for me, a chance to break out of my fear, a chance to embrace my individuality and desires. A chance to move forward to my future.

Back in time

As I excitedly get ready for the show "Eat Your Science" hosted by Alton Brown I am thinking about times, trips I've been excited to do and can't help but remember a rather important experience. This was my senior year theater trip. There were a lot of firsts for me on this journey. My first time on a plane, my first time at a Broadway show, my first time to travel without parents and not with my church. Low supervision and lots of fun. I remember going through security (much less difficult back in 1996 than it is now), I remember the bus ride, the nerves and excitement that fluttered through my stomach.

After a day of classes and watching the clock that barely seemed to move it was finally time to meet at the school theater classroom and load up for the trip. The more outgoing students sang show tunes, there was laughter, a lot of smiling on the bus ride to the airport. I was glad to have a couple good friends who were also in theater to be going on this trip.  I have to pause in my writing as I remember this trip with some fondness, there is so much more detail that I remember than I can fit into this particular blog. Definitely more stories for another day. But that journey, the ride to the airport, the closeness of a friend, the wonder and excitement of a trip without being watched closely.  I remember getting on the plane and was terrified, my classmate gave me some gum to help my ears pop when the plane took off. I chewed that gum like my life depended on it while the plane streaked down the runway and lifted into the air. I saved the bag of peanuts from that flight and the wings I received from the flight attendant.  What an amazing trip, full of feelings I'll never forget!

California, Knotts Berry, and the Big Foot Rapids

This weekend I'm visiting my mom and can't help but remember back to the year my friends and I went on our first no parent slightly unsupervised trip. That year my friends Jennifer, Katie, Karen, and I plotted, planned and finally pulled our parents for a meeting.  We were close in age, only about 17 or 18 and all of us still answering to our parents.

I remember the day we decided to sit our parents down to have a meeting. We had the trip planned, we had asked friends of our who were older, our parents age but with one important distinction, they weren't our parents. They were cool. Jennifer and Katie had much more work cut out for them because they had to convince Katie's parents to let her stay behind since they were just about to move out of state. Somehow, we did it. We planned the trip, we got the okay to go to California where we would hit the beach and visit Knott's Berry Farm.

This was the best time, we were all so excited to visit the park. We hit rides, ate yummy food, and generally had a great time. One particular ride,  however, saw us many many times that day. That was the Big Foot Rapids. This ride was designed on a round float where several people rode face to the center of the float. It was a ride designed to get everyone on each raft drenched in water. If the rapids didn't get you, then surely one of the waterfalls the raft was sure to go under would. It held true for all of us, except one, Jennifer. We went on that ride several times throughout the day with a goal of getting Jennifer wet and each time someone would come out drenched in water but just not Jennifer. The ride attempts mounted quickly, 5, 6, 7 and still Jennifer maybe a drop or two of water. The 8th, 9th, and 10th tries were met with a little more determination. We climbed off the ride and immediately rounded back to the line to wait to go through again. By the 10th try we were near the end of the day and the line had grown considerably shorter. We began to hop off to get back in line after the 10th time and the employee knew we'd be right back and said to just stay put. He had caught on to the fact that our friend was still dry. The 11th time through, still nothing. I was soaked. Twelfth time, she got a little wet. Then the magic round, the 13th try. We thought it wasn't going to happen, we'd made it through the rapids with no water on Jennifer, then we hit the waterfall and like magic the raft spun at the last second shooting Jennifer right  under the heart of the water flow. Drenched, soaked from head to foot. Not one dry spot on her. We cheered, it was finally done. Climbing out of the raft like heroes we plodded away from the ride, shoes full of water, shivering from cold, clothes and hair dripping. It really was a great day and one for the memory.

I think about that trip sometimes and wonder, if we went back, how many times through the ride would it take to get Jennifer soaked again?