It’s hard to sleep when you’re coming down off of exhaustion – add the fact that it’s a strange bed – and there’s more to do before leaving for the final leg of the trip, and even after reaching the end of the road, still a huge menu of chores. A tent to set up, cots to put together, camp stove and tables, chairs, fine dining at the picnic table which ends up decorated with plastic table cloths, utensils, and paper/Styrofoam plates and cups. We really know how to rough it. *laughing*

We threw the last minute touches on making sure everything was locked up and loaded – Vickie’s truck was loaded, I had to stop for gas and wash a zillion dead bugs off of the windshield. I know I took out so many of them on the trip up that there shouldn’t be any left in the world, but there they were, stuck all over the front of my truck and blocking my view…and just to give an example of how nature works, the wasps were thronging to the front of the truck to eat their dead buddies.

Out of the hotel and road hopping by 10 a.m. Mountain Time. We gain an hour when we hit the Panhandle of Idaho…Pacific Time. We raced up I-90 until we hit a few construction zones and the aftermath of a forest fire at Alberton. Down right damn scary. That highway was closed recently due to the fire. When the news said the fire was being fought right at the edge of yards and residences, they weren’t kidding. The burn was broken – in some areas the trees were scorched and dead, in some areas only small patches of grass along the highway were burned. The cause of the fire is thought to have been a vehicle that was dragging a chain or something that created sparks. That would make sense with the strange patterns of the fire.

We made it! Registered for our campsites, which we reserve on the internet the first part of May, and started the big ‘download’ – that would be all of our gear preparing for set-up. Two of our brothers live here…well hell…come to think of it our only two surviving brothers live here. They are both younger – but not by a lot. Ken is the older of the two and lives about 30 miles from the campground. He’s our main ‘wood’ man. He delivers a ton of split campfire wood for us each year…poor guy. And Vickie manages to burn almost every stick of it before we leave the campground. She’s a little pyro.

Ken showed up with a pick-up truck of wood and started unloading at my site and Vickie’s. Our sites are side by side and we pick the same spots every year. Of course we are conveniently located by the bath house. We had most of our camps set up and ready by around 6ish and Ken had to head for home. His sweet wife’s birthday is today. Her name is Vicky too! She works at the local hospital in Sandpoint and won’t make it to the campground until the weekend.

I was really running out of steam. I’d gotten up at 5 a.m. and been on the go for hours. I opened my first brew when we hit the campground but kept unloading and working as I slugged it down. Oh…and of course I blew bubbles in the middle of unloading and camp set-up. The wonderful ‘catch-a-bubble’ that hang in the air and live in the trees for hours. When the camp was pretty well set, Ryan, Kayanna, and me walked down to the lake so Kayanna could jump off the dock a few times. We didn’t stay long because din-din was almost done. Time for more tomorrow.

Our other brother, Kevin, lives about two miles up the road from the campground and works for the phone company. His wife, Gayl, works also and they arrived when the Chicken Parmesan and pasta salad was hot off the BBQ. Not to worry Vickie thinks she’s the Creative Chefette of the campground. And she is. She creates dishes like Rock Cornish Game Hens and asparagus with hollandaise and a few other things that most people couldn’t build at home let alone at a campfire. So we dined!

We hung out, next to the campfire, visiting, languishing in the fact we were together again – quality time in a serene setting – blanketed from the noise and stress of the world. As it should be!

Then I hit the wall. Time to sleep. Time to escape the body stress and escape into Sand Woman Land with my two traveling companions and my campmate. G’nite Vickie. G’nite Ryan. G’nite Kayanna. G’nite Linda.

The humidity in Vegas was about the only problem with the last few days of last minute chores, packing and list checking. The norm is that one never appears to perspire in the desert – it evaporates/dries instantly. The last few weeks of off and on rain and cloud cover have created a steam room effect. Last minute yard work, drip water system check, and loading the truck were a bitch for this kid. First – I don’t do sunshine, second – heat makes me physically ill if I can’t get out of it, third – mix the two together and it’s ‘ughsville’ to the max. But I managed to get it done.

On the subject of perspiration and dry air, when I was in Aruba last year, one of my co-workers exclaimed that they couldn’t stop perspiring there and they didn’t perspire in Vegas. We had a small tete te tete when I said, “Of course you do.”

“No I don’t. I never sweat in Vegas.”

When I followed up with the fact that a person’s body perspires all the time, to some degree, and in the desert the perspiration dries immediately off the flesh and that’s why it goes unnoticed, I got an emphatic. “No! I do not sweat in the desert.”

I sarcastically retorted, “Ok. You don’t. But the rest of the world does.”

Well enough of sweat. Kayanna arrived on Saturday as scheduled. I got little girl hugs and kisses and we headed for home. We finished the last of truck loading and called for pizza delivery from Red Rock Pizza. Yummy ‘chicken pesto’ for Kayanna and me…scary pepperoni for Ryan (ugh on pepperoni and sausage). I even got a two hour nap while they played computer games. The last minute this and last minute that turned into longer than a few minutes and we finally got on the road around 9 p.m.

I prefer driving at night, goes with the draculaette lifestyle I guess. So Saturday night slipped away with me wishing I could just hyperspace us through the Salt Lake City Slow Down. I hate that part of the trip. The speed limit is 65 MPH and the city seems to go on forever. Plus Salt Lake is close to the halfway mark of my trip. Once I’m past it – either way – it feels like I crossed a monumental milestone.

I was still in Utah when light started creeping over the horizon. Hello dark glasses! I was tired but by now the ‘demon from hell’ had surfaced and I was never going to stop. It always happens this way. I do pull over, take breaks, even try to close my eyes and see if I can sleep but it never works. So I just settle in, crank up the music, suck down the coffee, and keep on wheeling. And man do I love that truck. It handles like a caddy when it’s fully loaded with camping gear and eating up the highway at 85 and 90.

My traveling buddies watched a dvd on the laptop for the first few hours of the trip and slept after that. Ryan woke up at almost every gas stop but Kayanna was in Sandwoman Land until I finally called her out of it when we hit Dillon MT. We were about three hours out of Missoula then and we stopped for food and gas.

Fourteen hours after we left Vegas – almost 1,000 miles later – I was checking into a hotel, calling my sis, Vickie, and preparing to crash – stick a fork in me. I drifted off to sleep and when I woke up a few hours later, the road noise had left my brain and I felt almost normal for a slightly ragged drac-ette. My little entourage and me headed for Vickie’s place and steak dinner. A few hours of relaxation, great food, a Michelob Ultra, and the last few days caught up with me. I was too pooped to pop. Back to the hotel, more sleep, and it’s a new day. Campsite day. Somewhere close to 200 miles more to go, road hopping with Vickie as she’s taking her own rig, and we’ll be setting up tents, kicking back, and languishing in the great american get-a-way. Fresh air, no electricity – other than the bathhouse – campfires, pine trees sighing in the breeze, swimming and fishing, and best of all…family to share it with.

It’s almost time to fly. I’ve spent the week with the minimum of sleep – no reason other than my brain won’t slow down long enough to let my body chill. I’m possessed, driven like a demon from hell to forge ahead into the daylight world and still try to keep my Dracula lifestyle. It’s hell.

The house cleaning, camp gear sorting, yard chores, and last minute shopping are about done. Laundry time, a few miscellaneous things that are bound to pop up, list making and list checking to make sure everything goes the way it should at the last minute are almost yesterday.

BTW, what retard would put a spare under the bed of a truck and put the valve stem on top so the spare had to be dropped to check the tire pressure…must’ve been some sick, sadistic bastard that got his 2-3 off-suit busted off.

The first of my traveling companions showed up tonight. He’s a spunky little cutie, loves to fish and swim – Ryan. He went with me year before last and couldn’t make last year…or so his mom and dad said. The one on the right will be here on Saturday – Kayanna. This is her second trip to Vegas this year and as far as I’m concerned it’s never enough. She could live with me if her mom said it was ok. And they get along amazingly well – makes that 2,400-mile round trip a lot easier to fade. And this is the lake they fish and swim in…hey…they are fishing.

By Saturday night, I’ll be on the road. I’ll make the first and longest part of the road trip to Missoula – almost 1,000 miles – before I give up and check into a hotel room that’s already reserved. Monday, the 8th, I’ll be helping my sis, Vickie, load up her truck and gear, and we’ll be heading for the campground in the panhandle of Idaho – the last 180 miles of the trip. A stop in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho for ice and groceries to slam into the cooler and then fade the damn two lane highway heading North for 40 miles to the State Park.

This is better than a scene out of a movie…a stream that runs out of the lake we camp on…and what the surrounding area looks like.

It appears that our group will be much smaller this year than previous years. Sad. Not because of any tragedies but due to mankind’s inability to plan for an event when they had a year’s advance warning/notice. Go figure. “Gee…I only had a year to figure out when I should take my vacation and put money ahead for the event but I can’t make it!â€?

Late Monday afternoon this will be home for a week.

When I crawl out of the tent on Tuesday, the squirrels will be dropping deadly missiles from 60 feet above (pinecones) and I make it a point to start the coffee and head for the awning that covers my picnic table ASAP. Man those bastards hurt if you take a direct hit. Within in minutes of starting the coffee, someone in our group will head for my campsite, and we’ll be sharing a cup of java and talking about life. Laughing over memories we share and beginning the next chapter of our lives at the same time.

But of course I’m taking a deck of cards and poker chips. I have nieces and nephews that can’t wait to play poker with Aunt Linda. And hey…I can’t remember winning a hand last year. Of course I sat with some of them while they played my chips, and I handed out stacks of chips to those that ‘went bust’, and gently walked them through the doors of Poker Camp. I’m always the banker, and while they have to buy their chips with hard cash, they get a lot of leeway and why not? We’re there to have fun. Maybe one of them will be a world champion someday and tell everyone how they learned to play poker at the family reunion. Sweet!

My next post should be the Missoula Hotel – they have wifi.