After our show at the Celtic Cowboy, we wanted to get a jump on the long drive to Boise so we left that night and drove a few hours before finding a secure place to pull off the road and sleep. Woke up a little outside Lincoln, MT, packed up and headed out. One more stop at Mission Bistro in Stevensville to begin our journey with a delicious brunch felt like the best way to kick off our day of driving. Nothing like a champagne brunch for Champagne Sunday!
We had a few errands to do and an oil change to get (and a “check engine” light to address), so the morning felt a little slow going. We had an 8+ hour day ahead of us, venturing into southern Idaho to play a house concert in Boise. Once done with all that, we finally got moving. Then . . . this:
This is never a sign you want to see when pulling a trailer and already having driven four hours.
This is 2 1/2 – 3 hours of your life you’re NEVER getting back.
This is a drive that starts out gorgeous and awe-inspiring, but makes you long for a traffic jam on a straightaway just so you could have other people to look at.
This is the Route 12 in Idaho.
We will come back to Boise. We will never do it by way of the 12 ever again. 😂
Once out of the “long and winding road” (which, if you were wondering, does NOT get funnier, with each reference made) we joyfully stopped for gas in Kooiskia . . . but it was still too early for dinner and the town did not feel like a place we wanted to spend too much time, so I searched up a Mexican restaurant about 35 min away. This is what the whole drive, save the very last turn into some kind of town (Grangeville, it turns out), looked like.
We actually DID find a restaurant at the end of this drive, but it was about what you’d expect to find at a Mexican restaurant in, “Somewhere”, Idaho at the end of this road. Rudy got a cheeseburger.
Not related to the food, but definitely related to the NEXT curvy road we were on all night, Rudy began to suddenly complain about an upset stomach. Barely had the warning come out, and then it was immediately followed by whatever was bothering him. Carsickness combined with a big slug of water pushed out that cheeseburger all over the inside of the truck. I did NOT get a photo. Jared and I launched into the kind of parental auto pilot that can only be achieved by 16 years together and the pressure of a projectile vomiting child in the backseat. Pitch black sky, no shoulder to pull over on, cars in front, behind, and in the opposite lane…Jared found a window and crossed the highway to the opposite side turn out. While rudy puked for 5 more minutes, we quickly emptied, cleaned, and aired-out the car, put Rudes in pajamas, wiped puke off the iPad, headphones, stuffies, hats and ourselves, and were back on the road in 10 min.
Rudy, feeling MUCH better, fell asleep in 5 minutes. 2 hours later, Jared and I rolled into the driveway of Steve and Ginger, hosts of our next house concert, and fell asleep before the engine had cooled.
I blame the 12.