Avoid Super 8s and Aggressive Yellowjackets: Road Trip Lessons Learned

Road trips in books and films always seem so fun, carefree, and adventurous. Or they can be devolving nightmares that can't end fast enough.

Our Oregon to North Carolina trip wasn't quite the latter, but it didn't nearly have enough of the former. Read on for an authentic account of Scott, Erin, and Loretta the dog, packed into a Ford C-Max hatchback for seven loooooong sub-caffeinated days. 

Once we confirmed our move back to Asheville, North Carolina from Gresham, Oregon in mid-summer, I forcefully demanded gently suggested we hire a moving service rather than replicate our U-Haul and car caravan of Spring 2018. It took much convincing, but Scott eventually caved, and we hired United Van Lines to cart our belongings for us on the second week of September.  

Now, we pre-packed the car to test its capacity before the final load-in. We planned to camp at a few places along the way to both enjoy the splendors of the West for one last time and to save money on lodging. Therefore our baggage was a mix of camp gear, clothes, Loretta supplies and the furry friend herself, a cooler, food, snacks, and Scott's emergency bug out bags - which require a post of their own because Scott seems to be planning a Post-Apocalyptic Bunker in which we will live off of cans of Beanie Weenies and our tears of insanity. (Thank you Oregon, with your damn epic disaster scenarios of volcanoes, earthquakes, wildfires, and such.) 

Did it all fit in the car and roof rack in the coordinated pre-pack? Like a glove. Did it fit when we rolled out of Gresham? Ehhhh... let's just say a few items not originally accounted for were squeezed in at the last minute, and space was TIGHT. Visibility in the rear-view mirror was dicey as hell.

There's a dog back there somewhere.

Day 1: Spokane, Washington 

What a glorious start! The drive was smooth and beautiful, and we saw a double rainbow (oh wow). 

We'd booked several pet-friendly motels (nope, not even hotels made the cut) and campsites in advance. Scott advocated for cheaper accommodations due to the cost of hiring movers, and I acquiesced. That's how you wind up in a suburban Spokane motel that rents by the week. The room smelled, the comforter was rayon or some type of itchy material in vogue circa 1972, and the man chatting me up over a sub-par continental breakfast (terrible coffee) lived there full time. However, downtown Spokane seems lovely. If you go, visit their Riverfront Park.

Day 2: Livingston, Montana 

This was my third visit to Montana, and I loved the short scenic drive through Idaho on I-90. We had an old school spiral-bound road atlas with us, and I gleefully turned the page every time we crossed a state line. We picnicked in Missoula (turkey sandwiches, no pimento cheese this time) and met a guy with a North Carolina t-shirt on who'd attended Mars Hill College before moving west. "Too much humanity in North Carolina," he told us, which Scott misheard as "Too much humidity." Driving at 80 miles an hour per the state's posted speed limit, you understand how remote and sparsely populated the Big Sky Country really is.   

In drizzly fog we drove in to Livingston, a gateway to Yellowstone National Park 40 miles south. Unfortunately national parks don't allow dogs at most facilities and trails, so no Yellowstone or Badlands time for us. Instead we checked in to the most unique stay on our trip, the shipping container cabins at Pine Creek Lodge.

Fire pit, music stage, cool vibes. 

Cabin 5 was a smaller 20-ft container, with a bed, chairs, and mini-fridge, and no plumbing. The bathhouse was a short walk away, and the Lodge has a full-service restaurant on site. With rain coming down and our energy flagging, we decided to eat there. Scott's trout filet with bacon potato hash was delicious, while my chicken sandwich was just basic. 

This place bowled us over. In chatting with a staff person, we learned that the location on the Boston to Seattle route attracts many touring musicians (Blitzen Trapper, The Old 97s, The Jayhawks...) that you expect at larger venues. We both agreed we'd love to come back to see a show and stay there again.

Day 3: Sundance, Wyoming

Eastern Montana was a good long slog, and this is where the road weariness began. While driving through the Crow Reservation, we passed a dog dangerously close to the road, chained to a car tire. We didn't have room in the car for another dog and we didn't want to overstep boundaries, given we weren't locals. It was a terrible feeling. Once we were out of the reservation, we searched for a place to stop and eat lunch, but nothing looked particularly scenic.

Nearing the hangry stage, we finally stopped at a small park around 2pm and decided to make sandwiches and sit on a bench. I began collecting items from the cooler and our food bag, and then the visitors crashed our picnic party.

Geez, these new friends never asked for an invite. How rude. One buzzed around my ear, and then a second and third joined it. More came to check out the cheese and turkey.

Yellowjackets! I quickly got Loretta and our lunch fixings over to the bench. BIG mistake, as more stingy winged friends congregated there. Since Scott and I are both allergic, this was not ideal. I conveyed this by throwing my hands around and screaming several expletives. The man in a truck parked a few spaces over from our car definitely got a show that day.

Running with the dog, turkey, cheese, mustard, etc., we tried to get back in the car, but the yellowjackets swarmed the hatch area. I managed to get in, manically demanding Scott do the same, but he refused to with the yellowjackets joining us. "Throw some food out the window!" he yelled. I lobbed two slices of turkey out of the car's back hatch, like you do. Amazingly, all the yellowjackets followed the turkey and we were able to pack up and get the hell out of there.

Lunchmeat bait, y'all. It works.

Fatigued from our lunch disaster, we drove on to our next destination, Devil's Tower. Dogs aren't allowed there either, so we admired the view from a tacky souvenir shop's parking lot. There we met a woman from Lexington, North Carolina, traveling solo from Virginia to California. We chatted briefly and took each other's photo in front of this sacred site.

Devil's Tower

We'd planned to camp this evening as the weather changed from spotty to no rain, but Scott's mom surprised us with a birthday visit in Sundance, so camping turned into a stay at a motor court-style motel. We dined at a local steakhouse and turned in early. Billed as "the other Sundance," it gets less acclaim and glitz than the town in Utah, and other than Devil's Tower, there's not much to see. Just take it from us.

Day 4: Sioux Falls, South Dakota Luverne, Minnesota

After a morning wild goose chase to find decent coffee in Sundance, we set out to take in a few sights as quickly as possible. I was excited because I'd heard South Dakota was beautiful and we wanted to see the town of Deadwood after enjoying the HBO show (Language advisory: one of my favorite scenes that gets quoted around the Adams house quite a bit). 

We briefly detoured off I-90 to drive part of the Black Hills in Western South Dakota, which offer some topographical interest to the rather flat Great Plains. We stopped to watch a small group of mountain goats snacking on a steep cliffside - those bearded buddies really know how to climb! This was probably the wildlife highlight of the trip - no bison were seen, nor grizzly bears.

Deadwood was a bust - it's surviving these days as a casino hub and a facsimile of a Wild West town. We stretched our legs and saw allusions to Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane along Main Street, but it was a very brief visit.

Getting back to I-90, we decided to find a fun place to stop for lunch. Googling public spaces in Rapid City, I found the Dinosaur Park, a WPA project that opened in 1936. Seven large dinosaur sculptures set atop a big hill overlooking the plains? Perfect spot!

We parked next to the visitors center and took Loretta, our cooler and food bag over to a picnic table near the center, and began making sandwiches. Not two minutes in, several yellowjackets converged on the meat and cheese. AGAIN. I tried to watch my language, being at a family-friendly locale, but it was truly frustrating. More of the evil buggers joined in, and so I gingerly but speedily packed up and headed back to the car. Another picnic foiled by "yellow stripey things"!

Despite the disrupted lunch, the park was pure kitschy fun. I highly recommend it! Speaking of kitsch, we also stopped at the famous Wall Drug. We got the bumper sticker. I don't need to go back. I would, though, suggest visiting the large Dignity statue, on the bluff along the Missouri River in Chamberlain.

Honoring the Lakota and Dakota people

We'd booked a campsite at Big Sioux State Recreation Area, but flooding and severe storms prompted the state to cancel our reservation. Scott called around and found another place, so we reserved a site there. Little did we know that, like lunching outdoors, camping was just not gonna happen on this trip.

Driving east on I-90, we realized the flooding was worse than we thought. I-90 was closed about 30 miles west of Sioux Falls, and the State of South Dakota Department of Transportation didn't provide any signage for an official detour. Google Maps sent us on a "Piano Road," which sounds lovely, but it quickly turned into a dark dead end when the road closed about five miles in. Surrounded by soggy, flooded fields that smelled of cattle manure, the smell overpowered us. Gagging, we continued to make U-turns until finally Scott found a road with detour signs that got us around Sioux City after more than 2 hours of driving.

Way off course and late, we figured the acrid smells and the mosquitoes droning around us were signs to give up on camping. Scott smartly suggested we push on to Minnesota, and I found a Super 8 Motel with a vacancy and booked it over the phone.

Friends, never visit the Luverne, Minnesota Super 8. It probably seems like a given, right?
After loading all of our bags and dog and selves in to the room, I was aghast. Dirty carpets, walls dinged up, and smelling of must, dust and despair, this place is the very reason Jason Isbell sang that song of his. 

Too tired and over it, I just wanted sleep. Scott wanted food. I convinced him that the restaurant attached to the motel would likely be absolutely terrible, so in this small town McDonalds was our last resort. The cheeseburger was ok, but the free McNuggets Scott somehow scored from the cashier were trash. Have they always been mystery chunks of nastiness, or am I just hanging on to childhood memories?

Coated in grease and hoping for a bedbug-free sleep, we crashed hard at the Super 8, hoping for a better day ahead. After all, it was Scott's birthday.

Day 5: Decorah, Iowa

September 14, Scott's birthday! He'd smartly planned a long stop at Seed Savers Exchange, a large heirloom seed bank and nonprofit. After driving past countless cornfields and a brief visit to the Jolly Green Giant statue and museum in Blue Earth, Minnesota, we arrived at Seed Savers. 

We toured their visitors center and gift shop, and spent the morning walking around their display and test gardens. We picnicked, with no yellowjackets! Then we hiked on trails to their historic orchards, where visitors are invited to try an apple or two. Loretta was especially pleased to sample a treat. 

Dog-friendly grounds!

We checked in to our motel, a Super 8 that fortunately was far superior to the night before, and then set out for downtown Decorah. We're still trying to figure out how a farm town in northeast Iowa of less than 8,000 people can have such a bustling scene. Dinner at Rubaiyat was tasty and affordable, and a walk down the hill to Pulpit Rock Brewing for a birthday beer and a shared Oreo "Tornado" frozen dessert at the Whippy Dip had me very happy to be in midwestern dairy country. 

Decorah was the perfect pause for our trip. I'd return again!

Day 6: Indianapolis, Indiana

This was the day the agricultural wonderland of cornfields and more cornfields gave way to billboard-studded interstates and city sprawl. Nothing gold can stay, right? 

We stopped in Peoria to eat lunch with a family friend of Scott's. There we passed a statue to the late comedian Richard Pryor. That's the only thing I can say I really saw of Peoria. 

La Quinta is also a dog-friendly hotel chain, and we checked in to the one in downtown Indianapolis. It was under construction and had a tiny ancient elevator that felt and looked as if it could plummet at any time. I really didn't want to die in Indianapolis. 

The city overall gave me some serious Charlotte, North Carolina vibes. We lived in Charlotte for nearly six years and Indy has that slick glass and concrete urban development that had its moment in the 1990s. It's not all terrible, though. When walking to a half-price sushi place, we admired some of the older architecture, particularly the Moorish Murat Theatre.

Indianapolis - a mid-tier midwestern Charlotte with better historic preservation? I didn't spend enough time to gauge it, but that's my initial impression. 

Day 7: Asheville, North Carolina

Fueled by sub-par coffee yet again, we left Indianapolis knowing that a heat wave in the South would greet us on our return back to where it all started for us. 

However, can one ever truly be ready for a smack of smothering 92-degree heat and humidity? Lord it was hard. 

Coming through Kentucky we realized our dog would roast in her hatch spot, as the car heated up and windows rolled down didn't help. The air vents in the back were blocked by the camping gear, etc., so we made an emergency stop in Hell's Breath and Satan's Laboratory, Kentucky to regroup. We quickly put Loretta in the backseat and the stuff in the hatch, and rolled on to Knoxville, A/C blasting.  

I'd like to say I had a moment of bliss and harmony seeing the Smoky Mountains again, but honestly I just wanted our poor dog and our tired asses out of that car ASAP. We pulled in to the driveway of our West Asheville rental house feeling relieved. We tossed everything into the house with no regard for order of any sort, and walked up the street to Pizza Mind for a pie and some alcohol. It was SUPER. 

Home at last; much roomier than a Ford C-Max 

In Summary

So many yellowjackets, not enough good coffee, but what a way to see the country. 

If I did it again, I'd leave the camping gear in the moving truck, book less budget lodging and eat zero McAnythings, and research better places to stop for lunch. Otherwise, there's nothing like a road trip to test out your talents and your weaknesses, and finding alternate routes and uses for deli turkey.