What to do when vacations go awry

The family and I took our first vacation in years. I mean, really years. Even before the pandemic, it had been a solid two summers since our last road trip.

Confession: I kind forgot how to do it. Full props go to my husband for planning the whole thing, down to making the list of everything we needed, which is usually where I shine.

We needed to get out though. Out of our house. Out of Sebastopol. Out of Sonoma County. I didn’t realize how intensely I needed to get out until I was out.

It’s not that it’s bad here. But we’ve been holding a huge amount of grief, trauma and stress here -- which you’ll see noted heavily in this issue. The editorial theme is “Participate at Home.” When I reached out to the team of contributors, I sent out a list of prompts, thinking I might get pieces about digging into your community and being an active member.

But I got pieces that were deeper and more intimate, filled to the brim with raw emotions and vulnerability and confusion.

It matched up with the feeling I had when I left on our road trip: it was that sense of (if I can be my full Millennial self for a minute): Come on MAN, I’m totally effing done with this shit. Just done.

And why shouldn’t we be? We’ve been through a lot. And just as we’re starting to come out of our COVID cocoons, we’re entering summer, which usually means joy and parties, but here in California, summer also means fear and worry of fire.

I get it. Summer means fire in California. To type a phrase that usually makes me cringe: It is what it is.

We returned from our rather long roadtrip throughout Northern California only to find the spots where we traversed -- Feather Canyon, Butte Meadows, Meadow Valley and Clearlake -- had all pretty much burst into flames, with the Dixie Fire plunking itself right down in the middle of our travels (It started right after we had settled back home, thank goodness).

Even while we were camping in the Modoc National Forest, a fire sprang up while my husband and I were in the town of McCloud, grabbing ice.

“Find out what’s happening with the fire,” he said to me as I sat in the car, eyes closed, petting the dog. I sprang into action and tuned into the Radio Scanner app I have on my phone as two CalFire engines rushed by the highway we had just come from (The app, BTW, is available to everyone, not just obsessive publishers like yours truly).

Eight engines and two aircraft were on the way. A request for all engines from McCloud, a town of 1,000 people was put out on the radio.

“It’s time to bleeping roll!” my husband said.

So we did. But we also got rocked.

We tried our best to keep our calm (our two girls were 90 minutes away, back at camp with my in-laws), trying to make a plan in case you-know-what hit the fan and we had to leave QUICK. This is a scenario we’ve practiced and planned for. We’ve talked about how to manage all of this.

Yet, when push came to shove, our anxious minds still were at the forefront. We got lost and took a wrong turn and ended up on quadruple-digit National Forest Service roads (you know -- the ones with signs indicating they’re not intended for cars, especially Priuses?).

“This is it,” I thought. “This is how people get lost in the woods and never make it out. How are our kids ever going to make it?”

I felt the vulnerability sweep in and take over.

But we kept going (or rather, my husband did. He was driving. I kept my eyes closed). Despite three felled trees blocking the ‘road’ and an immeasurable mountain grade, we made it back to our camp, car and marriage intact.

Lessons learned? Always have a map -- a physical one -- wherever you’re going. And, while your at-home escape route is important (vital even), it ‘s important to assess your environment when you’re on vacation, too. Doing so will probably put your mind at ease when you’re getting a little R&R, too.

I hope you get to have a bit of vacation before August’s heat and fully packed calendars hit. Anybody else have good (or bad) vacation stories? More important -- how are you managing grief as you enter back into the wild -- literal or metaphorical? Share your stories with your community. After all, the more we connect and grieve together, the better we can heal. And, if we can laugh afterwards -- which is always my aim -- even better.

Email me at amie@sonomacountygazette.com or editor@sonomacountygazette.com. Call me at the office: 707-521-5218. Check out more of my adventures in parenting on social media by following me on Facebook or Twitter @peacetownfam.