Road Trip

How to Feed your Wanderlust

Road Trip

…to feed your Wanderlust

We’re on the move again. After three years of restrictions on travel and socializing, people are busting out and taking to the airways and the highways in droves. My husband John and I have been in Alpine, Wyoming for two years, caring for grandchildren (best job ever) and launched out on Memorial Day to drive back to our primary home in Pennsylvania. Without masks. Without Covid tests. Unrestricted.

This road trip marks 50 years of cross-country travel together. We first drove from State College to Tucson in 1973. Did we learn anything along the way?

We pack our own food and beverages now. It may seem boring but the choices on the road are dismal.  If we happen to find an authentic restaurant, an establishment true to the Old French sense of the word, a place that will “restore or refresh” us, we are delighted to give it a try and chat with fellow travelers or locals. But those places are few and far between. Chains prevail. US Foods trucks pound down the highways delivering the reliable conformity of processed foods in addition to a steady stream of fresh foods, meats, and specialty products that have no allegiance to season and region.

John is very well acquainted with history, both Native American and settler. I’ve also learned that many of the stories are on repeat so I created my own signal to shorten the lecture.

We left Wyoming as the summer visitors in RVs were pouring in. The day before I shopped at our local Broulims grocery store for sandwich material, salads, fruit, and interesting beverages to sustain us. I emptied our cupboards of snacks and boiled eggs to take along. Early morning we hit the road, winding through the canyon in an early morning fog that lifted as we ascended to show mountainsides of bright yellow arnica and blue gray sage.

Veering off the beaten path, we chose a diagonal route across Wyoming that included two hours on dirt roads and encounters with many cattle. South Pass proved to be an interesting side trip for a drive-by through the old mining town. Traveling through the Red Canyon in Wyoming jogged John’s memory. We had driven through there before, going in the other direction. The striated rock and tilted landscapes were other-worldly.

We stopped for the night near Scottsbluff National Monument, dinner assorted salads enjoyed in the lobby of the hotel with our own beverages.

The next day we drove through the Sand Hills of Nebraska, delighted to encounter Carhenge near Alliance early that morning.

The rolling landscape for the next 4 hours was without services. We enjoyed our picnic lunch at the Nebraska National Forest with coal trains speeding along the tracks, whistles blaring.

Night three in West Des Moines we finished our packed sandwiches and still had another 14 hours (15-16 for us) hours to go all on I-80. Our cheer was waning. While John drove, I listed the national parks he had been to (35) and those he still needed to visit (28). One was on our I-80 path, the Indiana Sand Dunes at the bottom of Lake Michigan. We detoured and rolled up our pants to test the frigid waters. John even submerged. Refreshed we pushed on, with our lunch menu down to seeds and stems. Change the count to 36 and 27.

Snacking while driving is not ideal, but it saves time.

It wasn’t until about 4 that John hit the wall—we had been on the road since 6:30 am. I took over driving while he caught a one-eye-open nap and pushed along with thundering semi-trucks through Indiana and into Ohio. He took over when I stopped for gas and we caffed up with Coke, iced tea, and candy bars—we were hitting the wall. We called friends and laughed until almost the PA line.

But when that sun went down we caved and got a room in Youngstown for the night, nearly delirious with fatigue and hunger.

Los Girasoles Mexican restaurant nearby flashed an OPEN sign in the window and we went in for a drink and an appetizer at the bar. It was a restaurant in the true sense of the word. Though a few minutes from closing, the staff was friendly and our Mexican bartender, Celso, most hospitable. We ordered Margaritas, shrimp with mango salsa, and chicken tortilla soup. The portions were muy grande—we are in Middle America, where middles are grande—and the food was tasty but we packed most of it up to go. Celso told us of spending 20 years in California before moving to Youngstown, which he finds too cold, but he spoke of it with a smile on his face. He was glad to have a job. Glad to have customers to serve delicious Mexican food to even if it was closing time.

Thanks for restoring us, Celso! We can make it home now. Adios!