Western States Day 5: Kind of a Wash

Lucy's growing rash? It had gotten worse, reaching her face, her legs, her back. Itching terribly. Sharon and I were beginning to strongly suspect something else was going on, unrelated to the original ringworm diagnosis. This day was originally to involve a trip to Estes Park to ensure fresh camp food for the rest of the week and a clothes-washing (you see - we were somewhat limited in how much we could pack, food- or clothes-wise, do to our tiny car), and then a day hike possibly up one of the smaller peaks that immediately ringed the town. We decided to include a trip to the pharmacy in there.

Well, when camping, I'm up and ready to get going at about 6:30, with no alarm. Partly owing to the fact that I don't sleep in much in general, partly owing to my excitement about starting the day in a cool place, and partly owing  to the fact that I sleep terribly in a sleeping bag/trail pad and am up every hour or so, anyway, all night. Morning is an excuse to not have to climb back into that on-and-off state of mild discomfort.

Photo from a previous camping trip. Not sure which, it could have been just about any of them.

So our m.o. on this camping trip (as in most) was me, out of the tent, just kind of hanging about and maybe getting a morning fire going and waiting for other to emerge. The "get an early start to avoid crowds" theory was a complete non-starter, but if, 12 years into having kids, I hadn't found a way to let my own predilection for fast starts and keeping on time go by the wayside, I would've hung it up long ago. Therefore, I was, resigned to (if not without sadness) and settling into the notion that we would not be done with breakfast and ready to head out for the day till 9:30-10:00 (ruminating, from time to time, on how different that schedule would be if I were camping with my guy friends, or just myself).  Anyway, that meant that we were headed into Estes Park mid-morning. 

We got to the pharmacy and spoke briefly with the pharmacist and then ended up with the conclusion that we really needed to get Lucy seen by an urgent care doctor. Just...too many questions that were in need of answering, and the poor girl needed some relief. So...via smart phone (thank GOD for having the smart phone), we found the closest clinic that took my insurance...50 minutes away in Loveland. Ugh. Nothing for it but to pack up and head on, grabbing an early fast-food lunch on the way.  Lovely drive, from Estes Park to Loveland. But one way or the other, we would traverse the road four times in the space of three days, and it was slow going. Slow in the twisty mountain roads. Slow in the stoplighted, gridded, retail hell that is all of Loveland I am aware of. And to the clinic.

To make a long story short, our MN urgent care doctor had misdiagnosed. NOT ringworm, but a mysterious (from a cause standpoint), harmless (but itchy!) skin affliction called Pityriasis. The doctor said there could be no mistake, and handed us a fact sheet. And there it was, symptom by symptom. Preceding herald patch, with small spot progression. Christmas Tree spread of the rash on her back. There you go. Nothing really to do but manage the itchiness and wait for it to go away, but WHAT A RELIEF that it was not ringworm, not contagious, and not as a result of anything we did (or were still potentially doing) wrong. 

Unfortunately, a whine in the steering/braking that we had noticed, briefly, on the way out (first becoming apparent right after leaving Crazy Horse monument...curse of Crazy Horse?), was evident again on our way out of Estes Park and was to the point of a regular and disturbing concern by the time we reached the clinic. So our next step - what could we do? Stop at a couple of auto shops and confront one of a traveler's worst fears: car repair on vacation. We decided to nurse the car back to Estes Park (oddly, the whine disappeared again), and have it worked on in a fun town where we could find something to do in the meantime. Fortunately (truly! read on...), we could not find anyone in Estes Park who was open or available to see the car, so we swung by a laundromat & threw our dirty clothes in, then I did our "2nd phase" grocery run while the girls headed over to a chocolate shop. After that, the afternoon half gone and all hope of any kind of a hike in the crapper, we decided to swing over to this coffee shop by the river.

Anyone who knows us knows that coffee shops are kind of our church. A time for family and fellowship and convening with a warm friend over conversation, or reading, or other low-key, low pressure time spent in the company of those we love (and/or ourselves). It is something we seek out in our travels, as well, having found the character of so many coffee shops in the country to be remarkably similar - state to state and whether in small towns or large. A kind of home away from home and chance to reflect on the trip thus far and/or (as the case may be) regroup. 

Rosie reflecting by the Big Thompson River in lovely Estes Park

At that coffeeshop by the river, Kind Coffee, I had a KICK ASS cinnamon roll along with some coffee that was also really super. I then had the idea of calling my local neighborhood mechanic, back in MN. A Vietnamese guy with a Buddha fountain in his waiting room, Nghia is competent and friendly, and will actually tell allegories to you during your transaction, often leaving you with something to chew, philosophically, on after you drop off your car. Anyway, I gave Nghia a call and, after describing the nature of the sound, he seemed confident I should just ignore it and have him look at it when we got home. Especially since it only seemed to emerge in steep hills, and then would go away if the car were turned off & re-started. So that was a load off. After hanging out for a bit, I ran back to get the laundry, then came back to join my family for the just a little more chillax time. 

As I reflect back now, I think it was the combination of the "comfort of a diagnosis" experience with Lucy, the decision NOT to have the car looked at, and that cinnamon roll that were the turning points in my trip. The point at which challenge and disappointment gave over to "OK, so this is where I stand. Let's have a good time."

Lucy had wanted to make sure to stop by a gift shop and look for some merch to bring back to her friends. To this point, that sort of excursion had seemed like a waste of valuable camping time ("Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me where I might be able to find a tee-shirt that says 'Estes Park?'"), but this day did seem like about as good an opportunity as any. So in and out of a few stores, during which time, I will admit I got this pint glass:

It only occurred to me, later, that this was no more uniquely "CO'" than it was "MN." Ah, well.

We then stopped by a little place on the edge of town that proved to be a highlight of our day: a dedicated rock store. Rosie is currently the rock hound of the family, but we all have a passing interest, and this store was a real treat. Rocks, minerals, crystals - in a natural state or polished - great fun to look through. Everyone got something special to them. Sharon got a piece of rose quartz as a gift to a friend. The kids each bought a couple of smaller rocks, then got to buy a sluicing bag (basically, a bag of sandy rock with a few specialized rocks which they could run through a sluice in the back - great fun!). I got a three pound chunk of petrified wood from Wyoming that is currently serving the purpose of a scholar's rock on my work desktop):

How can't you just look at this and contemplate?

Following that, we headed back to RMNP, and the visitors' center that was closest to our campground for a little exploring of natural history in and around the area. In the facility I got to witness a Real Idiot in action. A soccer mom, talking to one of the rangers:

 

Idiot: "We'd like some ideas of things to do with our kids. Today we drove up trail ridge drive and stopped at a few places and let them feed the chipmunks"

Ranger: "Oh, no. You don't want to do that."

Idiot; "Oh, I know. But, whatever. Anyway, tomorrow we were thinking about hiking up Long's Peak (a somewhat technical ascent that is quite rigorous, takes eight hours if you're in great physical condition, and which has claimed dozens of lives).

I didn't really hear any more, but geez! 

Other than that, my main takeaway from the visitors center was that the place looks a lot more natural than it did 100 years ago, when there was a golf course and private residences there! Apparently people who originally came out to find gold couldn't find gold. Then they tried to farm, but you can't farm there. Then they switched to tourism (resorts, golf!) and it was only after a kind of heavy-handed involvement from the Federal Government in which much of the land was brought into the NPS, that they became outfitters and horseback tour guides. So it seems that a lot of the "locals" around there are descended from folks who were quite hardy, and possibly not all that bright.

After that, back to the camp for our standard wind-down. Next day was to entail a drive up the highest paved road in the continental United States: US Highway 34 from Estes Park to Grand Lake, other wise known as Trail Ridge Road.