Turning Green in Green River

Do you have a worst fear when it comes to travel? If so, is it something rational like getting mugged or losing your passport? Or something mostly irrational like getting sucked into a time portal or eaten by a jackalope? Mine's mostly irrational, but no less terrifying in my head, and it came to life on my 30th birthday in Utah.

I suppose it wouldn't be a true ArcticTumbleweed adventure without some kind of obstacle to overcome along the way, but I would've taken just about anything over what I got…broken extremities, lost luggage, hotel reservations not found, getting skunked in the face. Ok, any of those experiences would've been awful to endure, but for me, getting food poisoning or stomach sick in general is my absolute worst fear realized. And having it happen while I'm far away from home kicked the misery up many notches. Having it happen while on the road with many miles to go till my next destination…well, therein lies my story.

I woke up on my Black Friday birthday, at the Capitol Reef Resort. That beautiful birthday feeling was with me instantly, and I was lucky to have my mom with me, making every moment as special as can be. I've had quiet birthdays on solo trips, loud and proud birthdays celebrating with friends closer to home, but the older I get, the more I accept that there are very few people I'm willing to travel with. I know I'll have such an incredible time alone, so why would I want to throw someone I'm not totally certain I'll travel well with into the mix? I can think of a solid six people in my life who I'd go just about anywhere with, anytime. And my mom will always be top of mind when I think of travel companions. 

Her ideal vacations don't call for much more than a lounge chair in the sand, but man she takes to a Lauren-style adventure like a fish takes to water. She can hang, she embraces life on the road, she spoils me with her exemplary co-piloting skills, and she likes to experience the parks, the way I do. She can improvise on the fly––an essential road-tripping strength––she's down for room service or diner for dinner, and she jams to my classic road-tripping tunes…she doesn't even mind if I play Dylan for half the day. She is a rare breed, that Mare. And she's my mom, so she's super comforting too. I'm not ashamed to say, I'm soon to be 31, and when I feel sick, I still want my mom around. So it was incredibly serendipitous that she was with me when beef carpaccio's revenge struck two days after I'd consumed it. It's a common misconception that food poisoning always occurs instantly. Not all forms strike straight away…some take days to set in depending on what caused the sickness. The FDA's Chart of Foodborne Illness will give you more details than a phobe like me ever should've exposed herself to...like how to track exactly what you ate that's making you sick and when the sickness will subside and which symptoms you can expect to ravage you.

My mom surprised me with a stowaway present in her suitcase, even though she'd already given me a beautiful bracelet a few nights before on the eve of Thanksgiving…the night my brother and I inhaled the bastard carpaccio back home in New York. "It's just a little something…couldn't let you not have something to open on your actual birthday." That's my mom …she's a true mom's mom. Out of a colorful gift bag, I pulled a thoughtful book all about finding the perfect time of day to be most productive, most creative, and more. How perfect for me! I haven't read it yet, but I bet it'll provide insight into why my best work gets written around 1 am.

We showered and got ready – a nice early start, just like we wanted. Headed to the dining hall for a quick buffet breakfast, but I wasn't hungry at all. I forced a few spoonfuls of yogurt in me, but I couldn't eat another bite. I wasn't feeling sick yet, just not at all hungry and riding the waves of a few weird abdominal pains popping up here and there. It was snowing again in Torrey, Utah, just as it'd done the day before, but add an extra few inches onto our already covered rental car, and it suddenly occurred to me that I'd have to scrape that thing before I could drive it. That's when it also occurred to me that I'd forgotten to pick up one of those handy scraper brush things on the drive down. Crap. "Maybe they have one we can use at the front desk." A bright idea, but somehow the native Utahan at the front desk didn't have one either. "Look at that guy over there…maybe he'll be nice enough to let us borrow his after he's done." Mare spotted a man scraping his SUV just a few cars down from ours. Genius!

She paid the bill, and I ventured out to see if I could bum a quick window scraper off the only human in sight who appeared to be holding. "Excuse me, sir. Hi. If it's not too much, trouble and you're not leaving right away––" he cut me off, "Actually, we are. We're leaving right away." So much for finding a good Samaritan. Not giving up without a pity beg, I explained, "Oh, but we don't have a scraper, and I was just wondering if maybe I could borrow yours for just a minute." "Sorry." was all he said before he made his way over to the other side of his truck. I couldn't believe it! What a jerk. I wonder what he would've said if I'd dropped the birthday line. "But…it's my birthday…honest…you can check my ID." Or what if I'd just snatched it from him then scampered away, "Actually, sir, it's my birthday so…I'll be taking that. Thanks!"

What the heck were we going to use to clean off the car? Fluffy, powdery snow covered hard, packed-on snow, which was blanketing a solid sheet of ice all over our beautiful white knight SUV rental. It was early in the morning – no one else was defrosting and scraping yet. I turned the car on, blasted the heat, and headed into our room to find a creative solution. My abdominal pains were getting significantly sharper. Oh, what fresh hell is this? No, it can't be – not on my birthday – I'm ignoring it. 

I burst into the room determined to distract and defrost when I found an unusual hard plastic mechanism that was designed specifically for holding Keurig containers. It was flat, with rounded edges and holes for the coffee cups...hardly scraper material, but I dumped the Keurig contents onto the counter and brought the flimsy thing out to the car. With one scrape, it broke in half. Crap. Not a permanent break, but whatever that thing was, it definitely wasn't capable of scraping. 

Think, Lauren, think. What've we got around here that's hard, maybe sharp, and sturdy enough to––my travel soap dish! It was already packed away and still all sudsy from my morning shower, but I dug out my hard-plastic travel soap case, left its cover and the soap in the room, emptied the soapy water onto the snowy sidewalk and started hacking away at the windshield. It fit perfectly in the palm of my hand, and with the help of my rapidly heating up windshield and my tenacity, I cleaned every glass surface of our beautiful Mitsubishi Outlander. Impressed by my innovative scraping solution, my mom snapped a photo of me, mid-scrape, with the soap dish.

We were all packed up and ready to embark on a grand birthday adventure…first back into Capitol Reef National Park, then taking the long way to stop at Goblin Valley on our route to Moab. Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, and Dead Horse State Park all awaited us in Moab, and I think I was so overly enthusiastic, prior to the revenge of the bastard carpaccio, that I actually had us scheduled to hit two of the above after driving 4+ hours, even with an early sunset time of, oh probably 5:43 pm. Ambitious much? That's the trouble with fall and winter travel in the U.S. – not nearly enough daylight to see all the sights.

By the time we made it to the Capitol Reef visitor center, I was really hurting. It was bizarre, I wasn't nauseous yet, just having some severe stomach pains – an unfortunate telltale sign of food poisoning. And while I was well aware of that fact and how I felt and my lifelong irrational phobia of the dreaded yack attack, I was doing a damn fine job of rolling with the intestinal punches and having a good time with my mom. A new national park for me! A new stamp in my national parks passport! We even picked up a passport for my mom at the visitor center (along with plenty of other goodies), so she could join in the stamping fun.

We took the short scenic drive to the south and looped back around to the Gifford House in Fruita, the Behunin Cabin, and Orientation Pullout, eventually making our way to the petroglyphs that may very well depict ancient extraterrestrial beings. We couldn't get enough of the grandeur of Capitol Reef or why that park seems to be like the under-appreciated stepchild of Utah's big 5. But we were blown away by the beauty and the uniqueness of its pink badland formations and towering red rock buttes. We saw sleeping horses, signs for marmots (but no marmots), we hiked in footwear not conducive to hiking, made the muddiest boots I've ever set feet in, and we barely scratched the surface of over 240,000 acres of breathtaking public lands.

We had a choice as we were exiting the park…we could save some time by bypassing Goblin Valley State Park and heading straight to Moab, or we could stay on schedule, despite the sickness that was ensuing inside me. But because I am the road warrior of road warriors and it pains me more to pass up a single, precious, previously-planned stopping point, we headed for Goblin Valley. But had I known how much worse I was going to feel before we even got there, I would've headed straight for the interstate to take us all the way into Moab. 

Luckily the weather was holding up, and my cupholders and center console were stocked with Tums and peppermints (those usually settle my tummy) and anti-motion sick wrist bands, just in case. But we were almost fresh out of Pepto chewables, which are my final go-to if a maximum of eight Tums doesn't do the trick. Yep, I've got my stomach remedies down pat. But sometimes, no matter how much you try to remedy, whatever's plaguing you just has to work its way through you, and it doesn't care if you're on the road in the beautiful Beehive State or if it's your GD 30th birthday. 

I was feeling uber-lousy once we hit Goblin Valley, but damn it, I was determined to enjoy and photograph it. I was like one of those intense mothers in Disney World, dragging her kids from character to character, demanding that they have fun. "Say hi to Mickey, hurry, run, sprint, let me take your picture with Pluto! Stop crying! This is supposed to be fun! Stop crying! Smile for the picture! Be happy! We're in the happiest place on earth!" 

I'll spare you the details of my visitor center restroom experience, but let's just say I was in there long enough for the weather to change and the temperature to drop considerably. We drove further into the park, where all the goblins hide and walked down the red rock steps to the valley floor. With every step down, I felt pains and sickness. You know when you're so sick, and you try to find that one slightly more comfortable position? Sometimes even your shirt touching your stomach feels like too much pressure. Yeah, I was in that phase of food sick. But I still somehow had the drive to give myself all the birthday promised presents I'd been planning for myself for months. 

Walking amongst the goblins of the valley, we were completely wowed. All the red rock formations are so different throughout the Southwest. And these goblins, in particular, are quite unique and very cool. We weren't down there for long when it started to rain. Just a light drizzle, we kept on walking about and taking pictures, but then it escalated to a solid rain, so we started heading up and out of the valley. "Can't get much worse than this, right?" my mom asked rhetorically with certainty. How wrong we were. It started pouring ice and rain…we sprinted to the car…soon the downpour turned to just hail…intense chunks of hail shooting out of the sky, spiking the ground, cars, and pedestrians angrily. 

We made our way back to the visitor center so I could do unpleasant things again there, but also so I could press pennies like little kids love to do. I collect those. I picked up a few other keepsakes in there…postcards and such…as I type it, I continue to surprise myself with how I didn't just curl up in the back seat with a mouthful of Tums and demand my mom drive us all the way home. I'm really not a good patient, and when I feel nauseous, or if I'm stomach sick, it is my absolute worst fear in life. So the fact that I powered through as I did is really a testament to my deep and unabiding love of travel.

At the register where I waited to pay for my trinkets, the handsome ranger who took our $15 entry fee just a half hour or so ago, said, "Hi again," and began ringing me up. I think his good looks intensified the war that was taking place in my stomach since cuteness tends to translate to nervousness then potentially added nausea. I distracted myself with my genuine curiosity and asked if it was common for freak hail storms to pop up so unexpectedly this time of year. After all, we'd been in Utah, oh about 24 hours so far, and we'd already seen wild weather of nearly every variety. "Actually, get a load of this…we haven't had a drop of moisture here for the past three months!" "Um…what…seriously? And it just so happened to hit on the day we came to visit?" We laughed over my impeccable timing, then my stomach started screaming at me again. He was having a hard time ringing stuff up…slow system out there in no man's land where we had no cell service or GPS signal…and the storm might not have been helping either.

With every second it took for the machine to do its thing, I began to sweat more and more. I got dizzy, I feared I might explode or faint right there on the visitor center floor. Eventually, we finished our transaction and wished each other well. I tried to play it cool by not sprinting out of there and into the bathroom that you had to walk outside the building to get to, but as soon as I was out of sight, I made a run for it and almost faceplanted on the ice-covered sidewalk. My mom spotted me from the car and gave me that "Oh no, honey!" sympathetic and concerned, be-more-careful mom look.

I did what I had to do, then hopped back in the car and headed north to the interstate entrance in Green River. Mare offered to drive, but I didn't let her for several reasons. 1) I don't like being a passenger, 2) I didn't want to put it on her…driving in a foreign place in a hail storm that was slowly turning into a snowstorm 3) I worried that I'd get motion sick on top of food sick if I weren't doing the driving and 4) I'm an unstoppable road warrior…I keep on truckin'.

It was the longest 50-mile drive of my life from Goblin Valley up to Green River. And we still had another hour drive down to Moab after that. Dead Horse, Arches & Canyonlands were totally out of my mental game plan for the day...the new birthday prerogative was to make it to the hotel in Moab without having to make an emergency outfit change on the side of the road.

I was green by the time we hit Green River. Pulled into a truck stop, threw the car in park, and slouched in my seat like the most pitiful sack of sickness you'd ever seen. I couldn't even move from the car. Birthday girl. Poor me, but also poor Mare…if you read my previous Utah post, you know she has a rare allergy to the cold, and it was huge that she even came on this wild wintry adventure. But now it was snowing with temperatures below freezing, and I've still got the ac set as low as it'll go, trying to aim it all at me while rubbing my face against a frosty bottle of water for salvation.

Eventually, I peeled myself out of the driver's seat and stepped rather gingerly onto the pavement. As soon as I was fully upright, I was seeing stars. I held the door handle for balance. Just get to the bathroom. Amazing how my expectations and abilities went from, "let's go here and there and then there," to "just make it 20 feet into a truck stop restroom." I was in and out of there several times, feeling all kinds of ill. I sat back in the driver's seat defeated, I whined to her, voice cracking, trying not to cry, "I couldn't find Pepto…I can't believe they don't have Pepto." And my angel mother did exactly what I needed her to do…I told her what I needed and what I was physically incapable of finding or waiting on line to buy, but I didn't need to. She'd mothered me for 30 years…she knew what I needed. More ice-cold waters, ice-cold ginger ale, maybe ice-cold Sprite for variety, and chewable, original flavor (not Cherry) Pepto Bismol tablets. She even ended up picking up some pretzels and crackers for an optimistic later on.

She left the car, and I immediately turned the ac to maximum capacity. Death...I feel like death. Can I even drive? I feel everything in life to the 18th degree, and feeling sick and scared are certainly no exceptions. I tried to focus on my breathing and sitting as comfortably as humanly possible, which consisted of having my face pressed up against the frigid glass window. I pulled up my shirt, so nothing was touching my stomach. (Thankfully, I was wearing my stretchiest leggings.)

My mom got back to the car with everything I needed, in excess. She had FIVE boxes of the exact Pepto tablets I wanted and was almost in hysterics, convinced that they were nowhere to be found. And she even had a story that was funny enough to make me laugh. It went like this…Mom walks up to the counter with ample Pepto, ginger ale, and the likes in tow. The cashier looks at the items, then at her with concern, and asks, "Ma'am, Is everyone alright?" Mom replied, "Well, it's my daughter...she's…not feeling very well." The cashier replies, "Oh, thank god! I was worried it was the whole family!" A perfectly hilarious and natural reaction given the lifetime supply of Pepto she was purchasing. It was funny enough to make me giggle, even in my sickly state. But it hurt to laugh.

Mom offered again and again to drive. She said she really didn't mind. Asked if I was sure I was ok to drive. And somehow, I was. I was so determined to be the driver and to get us there. It snowed pretty much the whole way into Moab, making our hourlong drive more like an hour and a half. Between my nerves over my stomach and my nerves about hitting an icy patch along the drive, I'd completely forgotten that it was my birthday. At least until we finally made it to our gorgeous hotel in Moab and I had to present my ID. The Hoodoo Moab, Curio Collection by Hilton…I'd give it six stars on a five-star scale. What a treat that place was, and the loveliest kind of luxury to collapse into on my stomach-turning 30th.

I felt a solid ten degrees better just being able to lay in a pristine queen-size bed. And having a bathroom within eyesight was a blessing I was not taking for granted. I told my mom to order room service that night, but she couldn't bring herself to have aromatic food brought into our space while I was still so sick. So she dined alone and very quickly in the hotel's restaurant, and I napped until she returned. I introduced her to Schitt's Creek on Netflix, which made us both laugh out loud continuously. It made me happy to hear her laugh.

The next day I woke up to mom being as quiet as can be with headphones plugged into her iPad as not to disturb me. She's so thoughtful like that. We both slept well, and I was feeling well enough to experiment with some lightly buttered toast, so we ordered breakfast to the room and got ready to hit the parks. Mom would've been perfectly content with not going anywhere or doing anything that day, being sensitive to how I was feeling, but I wasn't willing to waste another minute being sick. 

We went to Arches National Park and had an absolute blast. We even hiked several trails! I hydrated and didn't eat a thing other than the three bites of toast I'd had for breakfast to ensure I wouldn't have to do anything unholy with an NPS vault toilet. And it worked like a charm. That is until we went to a diner, and I tried bacon, eggs, and home fries for dinner. I reached my goal weight later that night in the room. Too soon for grease, I suppose. We learned that my brother, who shared the dreaded carpaccio with me a few nights before, was equally sick back home in New York…further affirming that it was indeed food poisoning.

But nonetheless, we went back to watching Schitt's Creek by night, pausing for frequent bathroom breaks and giggling in between. Even though my sickness put a damper on a few of our days out there, I was so grateful for this time spent with my mom. For experiencing stunning, surreal new places with her, for seeing how much she loved them too, and for having her constant comfort and support through my struggles. And my own determination and care. We both acknowledged that I could've gotten through it on my own, but it was a hell of a lot better and happier having her by my side. 

We became Junior Park Rangers at two national parks on that trip. We did the workbooks together, wrote and read our pledges together, got sworn in together. When I look back on our five days in Utah, I see two road warriors…like Lewis & Clark, only we were up against mother nature's weather wielding and nature's absolute worst call. And we still managed to have an incredible, unforgettable time in the process. I look back on the whole experience so fondly. Sure it had its hiccups…ok gross, hideous, more-than hiccups, but the essence of it…our time together, out amongst the red rocks, exploring new lands, new national parks…becoming junior park rangers together… we made priceless, precious memories, we'll both cherish forever.