The Reluctant Overlander
Luxury accommodations, Photo by Mindy Stern
You know what they say about the road to hell – it’s paved with good intentions. When my husband first started overlanding - towing a small trailer with a rooftop tent and camping in remote locations - I declared, “I’m not sleeping in that thing,” and stuck to my guns. A few years passed. He upgraded the tent and trailer, outfitted it with a spacious fridge and a hot-water shower. He even learned to cook - a minor miracle! Returning from solo travels to Utah and Arizona, he’d regale me with stories of all kinds of adventures. The only problem? He wanted his enthusiasm to rub off on me so I’d agree to come along with him. “Let’s plan a trip, and you can write about it,” he said, tempting me. “Call it The Reluctant Overlander.” He was hoping that I’d love what he loves. In a moment of weakness, I agreed. He was ecstatic.
Together, we planned a June visit to Yellowstone National Park, Dinosaur National Monument, and two nights in Denver, for a concert at Red Rocks amphitheater. Alison Krauss, an angel-voiced, multi-Grammy winning, bluegrass fiddler was on the schedule for June, which is also a perfect time to visit Yellowstone. We planned our 10-day adventure around her concert: Seven nights of camping, two nights in a Denver hotel, one last hotel stay in Idaho, then home. What could possibly go wrong?
With a good audiobook to keep us company, the 8-hour drive on our first day passed quickly. Towards evening, we pulled in for a one-night stay in Cabin City, Montana. Exiting the car, a blast of heat hit me. The temperature was in the high eighties and our assigned campsite offered little in the way of shade. Three months earlier, when we’d secured reservations at www.reacreation.gov, we couldn’t tell the difference between sites. Like many primitive campgrounds (think vault toilets, no sinks, no showers), Cabin City reserves a small number of sites for first-come-first-served arrivals. On this night, many spots appeared to be empty and the campground hosts allowed us to change to a shadier spot.
I guided from behind as my husband backed into the new site, taking care not to jackknife the trailer. While I stood there, an APB apparently went out: “Attention all mosquitos! Fresh blood here!” I got bitten on the crown of my head and through my clothes. Both shoulders were covered in ugly red marks. I started itching all over.
On the uneven ground, I tumbled right out of the camp chair my husband set up for me. What a klutz! With daylight dimming and no comfortable place to read, I gave up on sitting and started working on meal prep. Thanks to a full fridge, two burners, and excellent provisions, we ate a scrumptious meal, and opened one of the two bottles of wine we’d brought along (with screw caps for easy closure). Surprise! There was a dessert I’d never tried before. Pistachio Pot de Crème – yummy. That put me in a good mood. We were too tired to set up our shower, so I went to bed feeling a little sticky, but generally happy. The mattress was surprisingly comfortable. Too bad we had to climb up a ladder to access the tent…
Dinner and dessert, Photos by Mindy Stern
On day three, we finally set up the shower, a little booth adjacent to the trailer. What a luxury to bathe in actual hot water. Freshly scrubbed, I felt brand-new. But the next day, as I stood there naked, waiting for water to flow, something was wrong. We’d somehow burned the heating attachment. With three more nights of camping before Denver, no shower, and no shady spot to kick back and read after a day of hiking, I was starting to get cranky.
While driving from Yellowstone towards Dinosaur National Monument, my husband, realizing his experiment had failed, suggested we ditch the plan. “Why don’t you find us a hotel for tonight, and cancel the camping reservation?” Yee haw! He didn’t have to ask twice. I booked us a room in Sheridan, Wyoming, and got our Denver hotel to arrange a one-day-earlier arrival. We were done with overlanding.
My husband’s dream of sharing his new passion with me was clearly not meant to be. Mad at himself, he kept saying, “I should have known better.”
I’m not upset that he convinced me to go, but I won’t do it again. It turns out my reluctance was justified. Overlanding isn’t for me. When it comes to sleeping “under the stars,” I prefer five of them.