Since Son#3 needed to find a way back to the town he's been working in these past months and since he didn't want to have to do the trip by bus again and since it was our twenty-seventh wedding anniversary and we have only ever had two weekends away as a couple since our eldest son was born almost twenty-six years ago, DH and I decided to take Son#3 back and then find a place to stay over somewhere on the route home (that sentence could take out first prize for one of the worst introductory sentences ever written).
As it turned out it wasn't as easy as we thought. Mainly because people kept offering us a bed or dinner (it's hard being so popular). But I'd been dreaming of a romantic dinner with just DH and I and I wasn't able to be cheated out of it.
But there were other obstacles. After saying goodbye to Son#3 we found our way out of town and began travelling toward home. Locating a motel wasn't as easy as we had first imagined but after an hour or so we finally found one in a smallish country town and looked forward to freshening up and sitting down to our romantic dinner.
It. Was. The. Worst. Restaurant. Meal. That. I. Have. Ever. Eaten. Worse still, the prices did not reflect the poor quality of the food. Neither of us were brave enough to complain and we could see the funny side of all our romantic notions ending up in the same place as our uneaten food but we did not order breakfast.
The night-time calling of the Morepork owl - the first time I've ever heard them in the wild - almost made up for the terrible food. Almost.
Then came part two of our worst anniversary celebration ever. DH loves winding roads. And if they happen to be dirt roads, then all the better. Knowing this - and knowing that it was only for 150 kilometres - I agreed to come home via what DH calls "The Forgotten Highway". It should be the forgotten highway and with reason!
DH, knowing my love of history and how I suffer from motion sickness on winding roads - especially on dirt winding roads - stopped often so that I could immerse myself in the history of the area and have a break from all that swaying around corners. After a while, this loving gesture on his part was met with a grunt and "Keep driving" on my part. I was feeling miserable and just wanted to get home as soon as possible and didn't care what scenic or historic attractions I missed.
The one hundred and fifty kilometres of forgotten highway took us almost four and a half hours to traverse!
When we finally got back on to the main - and straight - road and I was able to sit up and speak coherently DH commented, "Well you won't forget this anniversary weekend for a while."
Indeed I won't. And yet, already the memory of the motion sickness and awful dinner is diminishing and I seem to be able to remember more vividly the lonely grave we visited, the feat of engineering of the tunnel we drove through, the town that consisted of a hotel and a church and less than half a dozen houses where we ate lunch, and the glimpses of mountains and waterfalls and wildflowers that we saw along the route.
Happy Wedding Anniversary Darling!
As it turned out it wasn't as easy as we thought. Mainly because people kept offering us a bed or dinner (it's hard being so popular). But I'd been dreaming of a romantic dinner with just DH and I and I wasn't able to be cheated out of it.
But there were other obstacles. After saying goodbye to Son#3 we found our way out of town and began travelling toward home. Locating a motel wasn't as easy as we had first imagined but after an hour or so we finally found one in a smallish country town and looked forward to freshening up and sitting down to our romantic dinner.
It. Was. The. Worst. Restaurant. Meal. That. I. Have. Ever. Eaten. Worse still, the prices did not reflect the poor quality of the food. Neither of us were brave enough to complain and we could see the funny side of all our romantic notions ending up in the same place as our uneaten food but we did not order breakfast.
The night-time calling of the Morepork owl - the first time I've ever heard them in the wild - almost made up for the terrible food. Almost.
Then came part two of our worst anniversary celebration ever. DH loves winding roads. And if they happen to be dirt roads, then all the better. Knowing this - and knowing that it was only for 150 kilometres - I agreed to come home via what DH calls "The Forgotten Highway". It should be the forgotten highway and with reason!
DH, knowing my love of history and how I suffer from motion sickness on winding roads - especially on dirt winding roads - stopped often so that I could immerse myself in the history of the area and have a break from all that swaying around corners. After a while, this loving gesture on his part was met with a grunt and "Keep driving" on my part. I was feeling miserable and just wanted to get home as soon as possible and didn't care what scenic or historic attractions I missed.
The one hundred and fifty kilometres of forgotten highway took us almost four and a half hours to traverse!
When we finally got back on to the main - and straight - road and I was able to sit up and speak coherently DH commented, "Well you won't forget this anniversary weekend for a while."
Indeed I won't. And yet, already the memory of the motion sickness and awful dinner is diminishing and I seem to be able to remember more vividly the lonely grave we visited, the feat of engineering of the tunnel we drove through, the town that consisted of a hotel and a church and less than half a dozen houses where we ate lunch, and the glimpses of mountains and waterfalls and wildflowers that we saw along the route.
Happy Wedding Anniversary Darling!
Comments
I am glad you are keeping this blog open (and hopefully longer than a little while.")
Those are beautiful, beautiful photographs. I would also like to say "WOW!" Very magical.
Would it help if you drove? Or do you dislike driving yourself? My husband gets carsick if he is in the passenger seat, but is fine behind the wheel. If he is in a situation where he cannot drive, he takes Dramamine (OTC.) Sometimes I have thought (meanly) that perhaps he exaggerates his car sickness so he can hog all the driving. However, last week he rode shot gun coming back from the hospital and when we took a sharp exit coming off the freeway--well, let us just say, we had to pull over.
Winterwren, I don't like driving. I probably wouldn't get sick but I'd be stressed from having to drive unfamiliar roads. So I'm happy to leave most of the driving to DH. DH did this trip years ago as a support car for friends that had decided to bike this route (glad it was them and not me - there were some pretty big hills) and took Son#1 along. As we were driving I asked, "You brought Son#1 on this trip?" He nodded. "Did he get sick?" "I think he did," DH replied. Son#1 is even worse in the car than I am! He never ever sits in the passenger seat now if he can help it otherwise he'll get sick. At least I usually confine it to excessively winding roads.
Thank you for the anniversary wishes.