We awake to a beautiful view of the lake and again, can’t believe what an amazing place we’ve scored! Dave went for a chilly early morning bike ride and we had bacon and pancakes when he got back. While they showered and packed up the campsite…Mom got to go for a bike ride too (how cool is that?) It was pretty hilly around the lake, and I was glad no one was around to hear me gasp for oxygen. How fun to be in the middle of nowhere and have no idea what you’ll see next! I came back refreshed, if not a bit giddy (the altitude or the solitude?).
As we get closer to our destination, it begins to sink in that Ironman is getting closer too. Dave seems pretty relaxed, though he did have a dream that he was in T1 to get his bike and it was nowhere to be found. He searched frantically up and down the slippery gym floor (only in a dream)only to find it after the cut off time. Dave never remembers his dreams, so I suspect nerves are creeping up too.
I’m worried that the drive will affect him, but then again, he’s relaxed and getting a good amount of sleep. I’m sure we’re relaxing! ;) We (finally) leave Utah and roll across the Idaho border, stopping in the city of Pocatello for lunch. They have a Starbucks across the street. Ah, civilization! While we gas up, Dave and Jack climb up and clean the windshield. The people driving by smile at the boys hanging off the motorhome while Tate and I take their pictures. Jack puts his slingshot on the windshield while he worked…which we didn’t remember until we heard something whip off the RV while going 70 down the freeway. Dave and I laughed to the edge of wetting our pants, while the kids asked, “What’s so funny?!”. Parent humor, I guess?
Newly caffeinated, we’re ready to tackle the world. We set our destination for Montana, since Coeur d’Alene is at the very top of Idaho and Jack insists that we go to “Hannah Montana” (a show he’s never even seen). We drive and drive and drive. The kids are getting annoying, so I take them in the back of the RV to help them through the last hour or so. We take turns making up a story. I’m not proud to admit it, but I will resort to potty humor for the entertainment of my children.
We arrive in Dillon, Montana and drive through town. The town is full of those adorable old homes full of charm that I dream about. Wooden front porches, swings layered with pillows and architectural details such as curved windows and gingerbread are on every house we drive by.
The KOA campsite is a kid’s dream. In the middle is a playground with the kind of stuff we grew up playing on: the metal merry-go-round that you could make yourself sick on (hee-hee…or others), a tired, paint worn seagull with handles on his head and a jungle gym with huge splinters.
The camp hosts are thrilled to see the kids, since they have a granddaughter staying with them. He comes over to tell us how lovely our family is and to warn us of the pesky porcupine living in the park. (“If you see a little dog at night, don’t try to pet it!”) I assure him I will sick my children on it.
After dinner, the kids run back to the playground and it is as though the Pied Piper has come to town. The children come out of the woodwork to play freeze tag. One of the dads comes over to ask about our RV and Dave gives him a tour. By 10, we realize we should probably give our neighbors a break and rein them in. It’s daylight forever here, so we’re completely out of whack with our schedule.
I take the girls to the showers, which is hilarious to me. We shower in three different stalls, passing the soap and shampoo back and forth. By the time we walk back to the RV, it is pitch dark outside. Tate has been screaming at me for combing out here hair, so I’m feeling particularly evil. I remind her of the wild porcupine roaming the KOA at night. She squeals with fear and delight and cuddles up close to me as we walk. Hannah, ever so independent, roams off to peek in the laundromat as we stroll forward.
Meanwhile, back at camp, Dave overhears our conversation and slips outside to hide in the shadows. Tate and I are walking in the door just as Dave jumps out and grabs Hannah. So at 11 at night in our quiet sleepy campground, our daughter who refuses to wear pink and claims to be a tomboy, lets out the most girly-girl blood curdling scream you have ever heard. I couldn’t think of a rock to crawl under! I think it shocked Dave pretty good too- I turned to look at him and his eyes were like saucers! I’m surprised they didn’t kick us out!
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