Sunday Morning Walks

It had been kind of a rough trip. Any time I try to pack a mad dash from Utah to Iowa and back into an extended weekend there are bound to be challenges, but as far as such things go this one seemed destined to take the cake. Originally my plan was to fly my son and I home to surprise my mom for her birthday, but after watching for months airfare never dropped within my budget- especially when you factor added baggage and parking fees. I knew if we left Wednesday right after I got off work, we could drive hard, get to my parents’ house Thursday evening, and wouldn’t have to leave until Monday afternoon to make the same trek in reverse. Not ideal, but it was doable, especially for the chance to spend some much-needed time with family.

I decided to rent a car, which seemed like a no-brainer because the money I’d save on gas covered the rental expense and then some, plus I could avoid wear and tear and the “what was that noise?” stress of another cross-country trip in my aging Tahoe. I picked the car up, confidently declined the rental agency’s insurance option (what kind of a sucker did they take me for?) got Caden, and we were off. We made great time… all the way to the edge of town, where we were met by a state trooper blocking the only eastbound road leaving Logan. I rolled down my window as he approached.

“The Canyon’s closed. Semi turned over a few miles up. Won’t be open until probably nine or ten tonight."

“Shoot,” I said, “guess maybe we’ll have to swing down through Salt Lake.”

“I-80’s closed going east too. Heavy snow and avalanches.”

Our only other course would be to drive up through Idaho, adding several hours to the route. I’d been on the go since 5:30 that morning, it was getting dark, it had been storming all day and the weather was still sketchy. Cade and I put it to a vote, which ended in a deadlock, but ultimately I convinced him that our best bet was to just return to my place for the night and head out early the next day.

We were finally on the road Thursday morning before six. The delay sucked, but we could still get there before lunch on Friday (it’s an eighteen-hour drive, and while I’ll do it straight through solo, I’m not willing to put my son through that grind just yet...)

I think we were only about 30 minutes into the drive when a sand truck passed going the opposite direction and threw a rock right into our windshield. It hit with a loud bang, enough to make me flinch, but at first didn’t appear to do any damage.

“Geez,” I remember telling Caden. “That’s the last thing we need is a broken windshield on our rental car…”

Spoken too soon. Though I couldn’t tell yet in the dark, as the sun rose I noticed two cracks beginning to splinter up from the bottom of the windshield. The rock had hit near the hood, fracturing the glass in two places, and by our first gas stop each crack was six inches long. By the time we stopped that night, both had spiderwebbed and extended all the way to the roof. Had I opted into the rental agencies supplemental insurance it wouldn’t have been such a big deal- but of course I hadn’t. My own car insurance would cover it, provided I pay the $500 deductible out of pocket. (So much for the money saved on airfare...)

The cracks weren’t our only windshield issue. Connecting with Interstate 80 in western Wyoming we found the road was an icy, slushy mess. Every semi that passed would absolutely cake the windshield in grime, and I couldn’t get the wiper fluid to work. It made for some tense miles until we could safely pull over at the next exit, where I discovered that the sprayer jets were iced up. I kind of suspect that the last person who rented the car went cheap and topped off the fluid tank with straight water, and we lost about an hour as I stood cursing and shivering in a gas station parking lot before finally being able to work enough antifreeze through the line to thaw everything out. After that, the remaining several hundred miles of interstate across Wyoming remained its usual winter-time shit show, with intermittent closures due to both wind and ice, slick conditions and a top speed of about 40 mph throughout.

I’ve never been so happy to get to Nebraska.

All considered, the rest of the drive went smoothly enough. We finally made it to the West Liberty exit about 2:30 Friday afternoon, and as we drove the familiar backroads to our family farm, Cade and I reviewed his elaborate plan to park out of sight and sneak up to the house to surprise grandma. The only problem was we missed her by about three minutes. My dad, who was in on our plan, saw us pull up and at least spared us the army crawl around the backside of his grain bin. He came outside to let us know mom had just gone to town to pick up a few groceries- so our long-awaited, hard-earned arrival was temporarily a bit anti-climactic.

(Plan B made it worth the wait, though. We hid the car and had Caden sit quietly on the couch. When mom came in, she carried on just like normal, talking to dad and putting things away. She must have walked back and forth three times before she noticed him sitting there. Her reaction and shock were priceless! I don’t think any of us will ever forget that moment.)

While that and celebrating mom’s birthday with the rest of the family that weekend was the reason for our visit, I’m at a point right now where anytime I’m able to get back to Iowa I really need to hit the photography hard. I’m in the middle of taking a couple years away from doing my business full time to work another job, and to try to get going with some other things, so I don’t have the luxury of as many trips home right now. I’m always in need of new material for my annual calendars and local art shows though, so I have to really hustle and get out shooting as much as I can while there.

One subject of particular need is new winter scenes for my calendars. While planning the trip, I had high hopes, and prospects looked great when Iowa got absolutely rocked by massive January storms.

But... the snow had all melted by the time we got there.

Still needing to do what I could, I went out to shoot sunrise Saturday morning at Wapsipinicon State Park, and after, drove over to Monticello for a hike around Pictured Rocks. While climbing a steep hill there I lost my footing and slammed face first into the ground. My camera hit me right in the bridge of the nose, and I’m pretty sure broke the least valuable of the two. (Nearly three weeks later as I write this, it still hurts, and I can hear cartridge crack and feel movement when I press on it.)

Then for good measure, I got another rock chip on the windshield on the drive back to Tipton.

Which at long last brings us to that Sunday morning. I wanted to get out somewhere scenic that I haven’t been in a while, so I woke up at 4:30 and made the hour and a half drive up to Backbone State Park. It’s probably been ten years since my last visit there, so I was going off of vague recollection and planned for a nice ridge walk at dawn before then photographing the lower lying areas in morning light. However, I had no idea that they close most of the park to vehicle traffic during the winter. I was stopped at the park gates and couldn’t access any of the area I’d intended to see. It was pretty much just a long, fruitless, early morning drive.

Racking my brain for alternate ideas, I decided to shoot down Highway 13 and photograph the river bottom wetlands near Indian Creek Nature Center outside of Cedar Rapids. In the absence of snow I was searching for ice; and I imagined finding frozen leaves in the shallows along the board walk there. It was a nice thought, but what I didn’t take into consideration is the fact that Iowa is currently in a severe drought. There was no water, no ice, no reflections, just drab looking dried up flood plain floor.

By that point, I was kind of at my whit’s end. I was trying so hard to get some new photos, thinking ahead of my business needs and trying to put in the work for future success. Frustrated with how nothing seemed to go right, something within told me I needed to just take a breath- and take a little walk.

I continued along the nature trail. It was actually a gorgeous morning for early February. The sun was shining, and it was about thirty-seven degrees. It didn’t take long for my own thoughts to be drowned out by the chirping of birds and sounds of the forest. There were a lot of people on the trail too. Somewhere I could hear a young girl giggling as she explored the woods with her family. I passed another woman, probably just a bit younger than myself, walking slowly with an elderly lady that I assumed to be her grandmother. The sight warmed my heart. Not only in reminder of walks and conversations I’d shared with my own grandmas over the years- but you could just tell the mutual appreciation both had for that moment. The love, the care and patience- the understanding that both seemed to carry of how fortunate they were for this time together.

And I also remembered that while I was getting stressed out over having enough images for next year’s calendar, back at the house this very morning my own son was waking up in my childhood bedroom, and would be smiling, chatting and having breakfast with his grandpa and grandma soon.

Sometimes we get so caught up trying to do our best for the big picture, that we don’t actually see the big picture. I’m grateful for every moment of that trip, and the renewed perspective that always seems to come from a Sunday morning walk in the Iowa woods.

*******

Feeling refreshed, I took my time heading back to the car. I changed my lens, unsuccessfully tried to get some pictures of birds, and studied the interplay of how the upper trunks of some trees remained featureless in shadows while others caught the light. Arriving at the parking lot I glanced at the broken windshield that had caused me so much consternation, rolled my eyes and smiled. Should have flown, I guess. But that’s life sometimes. I lowered my camera pack to the ground, took one last look at the clear blue sky, then slid my hand into an empty pocket…

Where the car keys should have been.