The “Goat Rope” Trip: Lessons Learned About Travel in the Time of Covid-19
By Laurie Gilberg Vander Velde
It seemed like a good idea at the time. At the end of September, I made a three-night reservation for mid-October at a rustic lodge about five hours away from our home in Santa Fe. We looked forward to a change of scene and some time in nature. Friends had travelled during the pandemic and lived to tell the tale. What they told, actually, were the little tricks they used to feel safe along the way. We stocked up on the requisite hand sanitizer and disinfectant wipes and brought sheets to cover chairs and the bed in our room.
It had been so long since we’d travelled that it felt strange to pull out the roll-on bags. What was in those little bottles in my toiletries bag anyway? Packing wasn’t difficult, especially since we were driving and would have room for anything and everything, including a Pilates mat. “When in doubt, bring it along” is often our mantra for road trips.
This short trip would be a test to see if we wanted to tackle a longer road trip out-of-state to see our grown sons and their families. How would our bodies hold up to a long drive over several days? How comfortable and safe would we feel staying in hotels and eating carryout food along the way? We hoped we would find the answers with our three-day getaway.
It felt great to hit the open highway. The vistas from I-25 going south out of Santa Fe are truly dramatic, with open, deep blue skies against the golden hues of the desert landscape. After our picnic lunch at a rest stop, we opted to take the mountain route to Silver City and weren’t expecting several intense hours of holding our breath on winding roads and hairpin turns. It was five p.m. and we were road-weary and ready to relax by the time we walked up the wide steps to the lodge. We didn’t see an actual reception desk, so we yoo-hooed into the kitchen where we heard voices, and a young woman came out. We told her we wanted to check in and she said that everyone had checked in for the day. “Uh, oh,” I thought, recalling that I had never received a confirmation of my reservation.
She couldn’t find our name on her list, so she called the owner, Linda. It seems Linda had booked us for November 13, not October 13. I was certain I had never said November 13 because I was involved in a big project that was taking place at that time. I didn’t explain this or get upset, but I was already thinking about where we might stay in town when she graciously told us not to worry, that she had a lovely room for us. Unfortunately, the room was only available for two nights, and we would have to move for the third. She also confirmed that we could have dinner at the lodge that night as I had originally requested.
All was good. We had a spacious suite with two bedrooms and a large bathroom. We wouldn’t have to scrounge a room in the nearby town. Dinner would be in the lodge, so we wouldn’t have to drive somewhere else.
Before we unpacked, we wiped the door handles, the faucets, and various surfaces. We draped sheets over the two wingback chairs and over the bed. It didn’t take very long, and it was a bit of a nuisance, but it made us feel safer. The thought of doing it every day wasn’t especially appealing, but it was doable.
The weather was ideal for eating outside on the lodge’s expansive portal. The staff all wore masks, as did the guests. Tables were socially distanced. We both enjoyed our dinners and even shared with each other. The silky chocolate mousse garnished with raspberries was especially delectable. After dinner, we returned to our room to read and make plans for the next day.
Around midnight I started to feel ill and soon knew that dinner had not agreed with me. I spent a most unpleasant night being sick in an unfamiliar place. I was so grateful to my husband for his caring and much-needed help. I won’t spoil your appetite with details, but I didn’t sleep much that night and was very wrung out in the morning. The thoughtful cook served me dry toast with homemade apple butter and some yogurt for breakfast. I slept part of the morning, and my husband and I hung out in the Adirondack chairs outside our room and read. Neither of us had any energy to explore or go anywhere.
That afternoon, while enjoying a cup of camomile tea on the portal, we decided not to transfer rooms, but to head home the next morning after breakfast. Linda knew I’d been ill the night before, and she said, “This trip has sure been a goat rope! I’ll see what I can do for you.” I laughed out loud! “Goat rope?” That was a new one for me. “It’s when things don’t go right,” she replied. It was an apt description of our little trip.
City of Rocks State Park, NM
Linda made good on her promise and comped our first night’s dinner. I was feeling fine when we left in the morning, picked up lunch in town, and of course opted for another route home. We picnicked among the towering boulders of City of Rocks State Park then headed to Hatch. At a roadside stand hung with chile ristras, we picked up a few New Mexico treats and were happy to be home by dinner time.
I looked up the meaning of “goat rope.” One of the definitions was a perfect description of our trip: clusterf**k! It’s no surprise that we have decided to stay put for the duration of this pandemic and not brave the rigors of travel and the perils of goat rope travel in the shadow of the coronavirus.
Laurie Vander Velde and her husband Michael live in Santa Fe, New Mexico where they wear masks and social distance whenever they venture out. Travel is fast becoming a dim memory, but they travel in their minds with the help of books, movies, old photos, and various webinars.
