We found ourselves in Palm Springs in the early part of December during the pandemic. In “normal” times, I imagine this is where retired golfers converge. Palm trees, sunny skies, temps in the 70s, and golf courses scattered everywhere. Ten months into a pandemic, however, found California in another serious lockdown as emergency rooms and ICU beds filled to capacity and beyond. Most Canadian snowbirds were not able to cross the border to migrate to the south for the winter. Although our RV park was at about 75% capacity and the pickleball courts were active, the area seemed saddened by the lack of its usual hubbub of activity.

Let me just state, right off the bat, that we did not have a chance this trip to hike to any energy vortexes in Sedona. You might be shocked, but I promise we will do this when we go back in March. Our RV park in Cottonwood (Verde Valley RV & Camping Resort) was off the beaten path and quiet, providing a perfect spot for some down time. We took the pressure off of ourselves for a couple of weeks to slow down, catch up on routine things, and just chill before our daughters, Madeline and Rachel, and Madeline’s boyfriend, Layne, arrived for a visit.

One of the things we planned to do on our RV travel adventure was to drive parts of Historic Route 66, The Mother Road, and the first part we drove set a high bar for what to expect elsewhere.

Richfield, Idaho. Population 485. A laid back, central location to points of interest. Only 50 minutes from Craters of the Moon National Monument in one direction, Twin Falls 30 minutes in another, and Sun Valley just one hour away.

Richfield is the kind of place one grows up in or marries into. It’s not the type of town to which people flock to visit or live. There is no quaint downtown with antique shops, souvenir stores, or freshly-made fudge. But the townsfolk are friendly and are happy to share their stories. They greeted us with kindness but were probably happy to see us leave after our four-day invasion.

Years ago, a dear friend introduced me to an album, The Music of Olympic National Park by Mars Lasar, nature sounds from the Olympic National Park (ONP) mixed with mind-relaxing, dream-enhancing orchestral music. We played it frequently while working, and I eventually bought a copy for myself—one of my favorite albums of all time. I knew that when we got to Washington, visiting Olympic National Park was a top priority for me. And it did not disappoint, exceeding my expectations, and I was not ready to leave, even though we extended our trip by a couple of days.