As Flight described, not unlike being subjected to the Weather Channel’s apocalyptic hype about whatever storm might be brewing, we were convinced that there would be masses of people on top of people joining us to observe the total solar eclipse at Grand Targhee. The lack of traffic during our inbound leg had our eyebrows raised rendering us unsure of what to expect upon our arrival.

The spot we were allocated in the wide-open gravel parking lot was snuggled in between a handful of other RVs, however we were encouraged to park as close as possible to a fairly steep drop off and our newest best friends. There were only two ways to park Davista in our cramped space, the bow facing the drop-off or the stern. Either way, leveling our house was not going happen. “Why is this important?” you might ask. Aside from having Flight rolling downhill and crowd me while we sleep, dishwashing evolutions require considerably more care (usually more than I can manage) lest the tops of the kitchenette cushions get a little damp with runaway water.

We opted for facing the drop off, which meant the front wheels were off the ground entirely and we were resting solely on the forward jacks. That’s just fine when you’ve got plenty of flat ground around you, but it made me less comfortable only 10’ from the drop-off (I know I sound like Nemo’s Dad). When I expressed concern about this observation, Flight reminded me that the parking brake is set on the rear wheels which were solidly on the ground so, even if we came off the jacks unexpectedly (stranger things have happened), we wouldn’t venture too far. I wasn’t convinced by that logic and suggested we park about a foot away from and centered on one of the poles sunk deeply into the parking lot perimeter used to identify the drop-off even when under many feet of winter snow. “That should keep us from rolling off,” I thought to myself. Chances are we won’t budge, but that doesn’t keep me from exploring all unlikely possibilities.

I should back up and describe what’s (I think) at the root of this perhaps seemingly unreasonable fear. Some of the sequelae lingering from the near-fatal car crash Flight and I were in 18 years ago challenge me with vertigo and spacial disorientation.   The human body is an incredible piece of gear that can adapt to almost anything and mine is no exception.  I am very thankful to be as functional as I am, however some of my system’s post-trauma quirks have required further adaptation.

To make sense of where we are in relation to the world, our brains are given three major inputs: visual cuing (meaning anything we see), information from the semicircular canals in the ears (to provide sort of a dead reckoning based on perceived motion), and proprioceptors in the joints (to tell us where our limbs are in space). The way these three inputs are interrelated can be tested when you have consumed too much alcohol. Should you find yourself a little in your cups (and I am not advocating such behavior), crawl into bed (after getting a ride home), and close your eyes. Alcohol reduces your body’s ability to make sense of the semicircular canals’ input, so when you are then at rest and have no visual cuing, you will have no idea where your system is and you’ll begin to spin. If you do get the bed spins, you can continue with the experiment by putting your foot on the floor. The new input from the proprioceptors in your joints should be enough to override the other two inputs and you should stop spinning. Should being the operative word.

I learned so many things studying bioengineering in graduate school.

In the past few years I learned that the neural connectivity between my inner ears and my brain was severed in the Jeep accident and never regrew, so I have been relying on what my eyes tell me to know where I am. Since my semicircular canals no longer provide information to my brain, if I am still and close my eyes, I will fall over. Makes closing my eyes during yoga quite the spectator sport. !!! Usually my visual cuing is enough to keep me steady on my feet, however when that input is absent (especially in the dark or underwater) I will readily lose my bearings, which is uncomfortable at best and can be panic inducing at its worst – all without the benefit of first savoring a good single-malt.

The only way I can think to describe it is this… Perhaps you have found yourself sitting in a parking spot with the engine running? You put the car in reverse and you have your foot solidly on the brake while maybe contemplating whether to go to CostCo or Trader Joe’s next when the car next to you starts to back out. Concerned that it is your car that is in motion, most people have the tendency to apply even more pressure to the brakes but quickly recognize the correct source of perceived movement and easily laugh off the fleeting discombobulation. I get that jacked up feeling all the blessed time. Because I find that disorientation incredibly disconcerting, I don’t like to introduce potential unexpected motion into anything. Knowing that we weren’t going more than a foot should the jacks give way and the parking brake not hold was very comforting – thus my gratitude for the enormous steel pole to keep us from sliding to oblivion.

After we made camp, level or no, we were happy to reconnect with some dear friends and marveled at how well our seven kids played together, even while some of them weren’t feeling so hot.

The next morning, while Flight and Keeper went for a mountain bike ride with some of the other men folk, I went on a short hike with our girls.   The girls responsibly asked for water along the way and the irresponsible adult in the group had neglected to bring any, which was kinda the opposite of Flight’s and Keeper’s provisioning experience for their ride. Also popular was the request for Chapstick, which I also didn’t bring. This omission, however, was planned as instead I brought our own wildly popular (in our family) lip balm concoction. You can learn to make your very own here – highly recommended and way better than Burt’s Bees!

We all met up again as a gaggle at the base of the mountain where Keeper tried out bungie-cord assisted trampoline operations. Witnessing her brother execute double flips, Firebolt flat out said, “no way” was she doing that (!) and WoodSprite suggested she might ONLY consider taking a turn after further observing Keeper’s turn. As there was a bit of a wait, I purchased two bags of mining slurry, which the girls adroitly panned at an interactive flume and uncovered hunks of various gemstones, some quite sizable. $20 well spent.

We headed back to Davista to change into long pants and closed-toed shoes for our two-hour trail ride. A short amble to stables revealed some interesting posturing among the kids. When asked if they’d ever ridden before, both Keeper and Firebolt enthusiastically said yes, I’m sure mentally referring to their recent five-minute (each) stint in the saddle while at the Ingalls Homestead only days before, after which they likely fancied themselves quite the experts. Roger, perspective.

We decided to forego riding helmets as cowboys don’t wear them and in a text exchange Flight noted our Dutch friends would be mortified (Ik bied u mijn oprechte verontschuldigingen aan). The ride was hot and dry (and hot) and I was thankful for the Camelbak I toted.

Keeper and Firebolt easily managed their respective steeds and thoroughly enjoyed their first trail ride, although I’m not sure why they insisted on making crazy faces for the post-dismount picture. If anyone should have worn an unnatural expression it was she who was a wee bit sore having stood a little far from the saddle – and an English one at that – for more than 15 years.

We enjoyed some gourmet burgers en famille and made our way to the other two families to bask in the anticipation bubbling throughout the campsite. A neighboring camper popped over to show us his recent artwork and share in some wine. Even Santa made an appearance to distribute candy – didn’t know he owned a pair of glove shoes. !!!

The kids were comfortable enough to want to ride bikes at all hours and were disappointed when we reined in their enthusiasm after dusk. Actually, we just encouraged them to do a night hike (on their own) instead and they seemed okay with that alternative.

As Flight mentioned, there was ample discussion about picking the BEST spot from which to view the eclipse. Flight’s Dad is notorious for conscientiously evaluating each and every available site at any campground to make sure the best one is found, so as to maximize the potential fun. Good enough simply isn’t. The apple has not fallen far from the tree and Flight has really been struggling with the BEST option. My vista checklist is pretty simple really: 1) hike to somewhere higher than the base (8000’), preferably with a killer view, and 2) be together as a family to observe the eclipse.

I’m good wherever that takes us…

All right, now we’re moving and grooving.  We’ve got the driving part down, we can set up and break down in 15 minutes, we’re in the mountains, we’re meeting up with friends, the kids are still in great spirits, and we’ve got a total eclipse to see.  This is exhilarating!

Left Bozeman yesterday late morning and followed an acquaintance’s advice to head to Grand Targhee via 287 (Madison River valley / Ennis) rather than 191, the two-lane, steep mountain road that passed Big Sky.  Great call, though in retrospect I think Davista would’ve been up to the task.  But the Madison valley is gorgeous, in a wide-open mountain vista sort of way.   Saw many tiny roads that led miles to thousand-plus acre ranches likely being bought up by celebs tired of the Hollywood scene.  I can imagine coming out there and doing nothing but fly fish blissfully for a week, if only I knew how to fly fish.

This pic somehow combined part of the previous day’s route with the one I’m referring to.  Notice, though, that we’ve reached level 62.  I have no idea what that means.  Note also that we’re hanging out in the 6-8,000′ elevation zone now, where we’ll be for awhile.

Driving down route 287 I was reminded of (and refreshed Tacco’s memory about) a flight I’d taken in the P-3 back when I was Whidbey Island based that was particularly memorable.  The majority of our flights were simply flight / landing currency hops, in which we were given the “keys” to the P-3 for 4-5 hours and left to our own devices, with the only real requirement being that we come back having logged several instrument approaches and touch&gos.  I was flying with a good friend of mine that day who had grown up and lived currently in Missoula, and he suggested in his low key way that we fly out to Jackson Hole, then cancel our flight plan and fly VFR (i.e. we choose our own route / altitudes and don’t really have to talk to any air traffic controllers) back to Missoula via Yellowstone and the various Montana valleys, and he’d “give me a tour,” before re-activating our flight plan and returning to Whidbey.  Sounded like one of the best ideas ever, so we did, and I wish I remembered half of what I saw and what he told me about the history of the area.  Absolutely stunning.  And I remembered flying up this very valley and seeing the whole thing from the air while hearing all about it.  It had seemed so much smaller then.

Perfect weather (again!), and in my bliss I opened not only my large driver’s side window, but my screen as well.  I guess I figured the screen was blocking some of the pristine Montana air, but what it was really blocking, or would’ve been blocking if it were closed, was Keeper’s new (favorite) swimsuit, which worked itself loose from the storage compartment above me in the wind, floated next to me for a split second, then darted out the window into the Madison River valley.  Sorry son.  (he was a little bummed)

We bypassed West Yellowstone to the west and entered Idaho just to the west of the Tetons.  I like how much I’m getting to say “west” now — it’s been awhile.  We had coordinated with the other families and learned that we would be the first to arrive, so we were taking our time.  We were headed for Driggs, where we would turn east and head the last few miles up the mountain to Grand Targhee.  Traffic was on my mind, as I’d heard several reports of hordes of people converging on the swath of totality (eclipse-wise), and I figured this area was about as prime as it gets for viewing.  But nothing!  Roads were wide open.

That part of the drive turned out to be especially scenic as well, with the Tetons looming jaggedly in the distance, and Driggs was a jumpin’ little town.  They were clearly playing up the eclipse thing for all it was worth, but I did get the idea that it would be a fun place to hang out, even eclipse-free.  We had planned to disconnect the Outback for the final haul up the mountain, but after talking to a gas station attendant who assured us it wasn’t a bad grade at all, we opted to stay connected.  And sure enough, Davista had zero issues.

We pulled in to Grand Targhee and were somewhat surprised to be directed into an essentially empty dirt/gravel parking lot.  The attendant squeezed us into a fairly tight line with the only other 4 motorhomes there, and when questioned about that, assured us that the entire lot would be full come eclipse time.  Well ok then, at least we’re at the edge and have a view!

There were some much more inviting-looking grassy parking lots down below us where people were also camping, and we were told that we could venture down there if we wanted, but after scouting it in the Outback we realized that it was no place for Davista.  Not only would we have a very difficult time getting level, but we’d likely bottom out multiple times on the rough road.  The other two families, when they arrived, opted for the grass areas (like we would’ve had we been in something less cumbersome), but it was an easy walk or bike ride down there.  The ski base area was a ¼ mile walk away and they had a restaurant/bar, lift-served mountain biking, and some kid-friendly activities there.  Grand Targhee is a cool place!  Small and low key, but just big enough to be interesting.  I can imagine really enjoying skiing there, and what we were there for was even better.  We all got together later that evening for some wine and a chance for the kids to get acquainted / re-acquainted.  We had a 12 year old, two 11 year olds, a 10 year old, a 9 year old, an 8 year old, and a 5 year old, so it was a good grouping.  Only damper was two of the kids (not ours) feeling sick, but in general they had a blast running and biking around the campsite with flashlights and headlamps, and it was good, no actually great, for the soul to see our friends again.

The next day we spent playing in the ski area.  They had set up a two hour horseback ride for everyone, but Woodsprite was just under the minimum age, so I stayed behind with her and we opted to take a chairlift ride to the top of the mountain in order to scout out a good eclipse viewing spot for the next day.  The ski area offered a package in which they’d take you by chairlift to the top of the mountain and back down again on eclipse day for a mere $150 (!), but they had been sold out of the chairlift rides for quite some time, so we were looking for a place we could hike to instead.  It was Woodsprite’s first chairlift ride and she found it thrilling.

Even more thrilling was the view from the top.  I mentioned having a view from the parking lot earlier, but that wasn’t of the Tetons; you really can’t see them at all until you reach the peak of the ski area, but once you do, it’s breathtaking.  They’re such a young, jagged mountain range, it’s hard to compare them to anything else in the US.  We wandered around, found a few snow patches and hiked down to one, and collected compliments on her My Little Pony sunglasses.  I’m reminded how important one-on-one kid time will be this trip, and need to be sure to carve as much out as possible given our constraints.

 

Earlier in the day, Keeper and I had done some mountain biking with my friend and one of the other kids.  I’d been looking forward to mountain biking with Keeper on some actual trails for awhile.  We’d done some in Michigan, but this was the serious stuff.  Though they offer lift-served riding, we decided that would be a bit much for the kids, never having done it and not really having the right equipment for it.  A broken femur or collarbone would put a damper on all of our trips.  The down side to not doing it lift-served of course was that all of the climbing would be self-powered, and heavy breathing comes quickly when you’re starting at 8000’.  I had to laugh when I was filling the hydration packs and Keeper suggested we wouldn’t need any water.

The ride was glorious, though it did give me just enough of a fix to REALLY want to do the downhill stuff.  Keeper did an excellent job with his old, heavy hardtail (my old bike).  The climbs weren’t his favorite, but I think he’s getting the bug.

Another dinner and post-dinner wine session with the whole group while we strategized tomorrow’s eclipse viewing put an exclamation mark on our day.  I’m a bit apprehensive about the family’s ability to do the hike, which is about 3.5 miles and 2000’ up (to 10000’), and unfortunately it looks like the whole group won’t be doing it.  There’s still one sick kid (high fever… poor guy), so at least one kid+adult will have to stay down at the base, and the other family realized that they’re needing to make a drive all the way back to Seattle for work on Tuesday basically right after the eclipse, so they’re staying down too.  Yet after Woodsprite’s and my trip to the top, I really feel like being up there will be worth almost any amount of discomfort, complaining, etc it takes to get there.  This feels like a once-in-a-lifetime event, and to see it from a once-in-a-lifetime spot seems worth just about any effort.  I’d like to hike up to the peak that is not served by the chairlift, however, as I think it would be more fun to be with a smaller group, one that had make the effort to hike up.  I’m not sure exactly what the view from there will be, but I can’t imagine it will be anything less than mind-blowing.

I was going around and around in my head with all this and discussed it with Tacco, as I thought she might have some of the same misgivings, but she came through instead with a resounding vote for doing the hike “no matter what.”  I love it.  And her.  So tomorrow we get up early and we hike to the top, eclipse glasses and hydration packs on our backs.  Yes!