Over the River and through the Sagebrush By Melody Carlson
As a child, we always went to my grandparents’ home for all holidays. It was a three hour trek in Western Oregon, literally over the river and through the woods. And one time we even drove through a flood, but we always went just the same, and even sang that old song along the way.
Meanwhile my husband of over 45 years, grew up taking other kinds of road trips—or what his mom called ‘shortcuts.’ Those were crazy routes she’d take anyone willing on just to see what was there. Kind of like ‘the bear went over the mountain….” But my husband Chris has beloved memories about those unpredictable road trips.
A year ago Chris was diagnosed with FTD and, as a result, I’ve been trying to pack a lot of living into a relatively short amount of time. Not surprisingly, camping and road trips top his bucket list. But late October is a bit late for camping… and so I planned an autumnal excursion in my Jeep. A trip that took us to Sun Valley, Idaho for a few days, and then back to Oregon for a short stay in the beautiful Steens Mountains.
The goal was to see as much wild and rustic western landscape as possible before snow flew. Chris has always been a cowboy at heart. He wore cowboy boots and snap shirts before it was fashionable. And he actually lights up at the sight of twisted juniper trees, scrubby sage brush, and tumbleweed. Our travel companions were Chris’s sister and brother-in-law—ready to lend a hand if things got dicey with Chris’s fragmented memory issues. They drove their own vehicle, but met up with us in the BnBs I’d already booked.
To be honest, I wasn’t as excited about all the rustic landscape as Chris, plus I was the driver (since he can no longer drive) so I probably was more focused on that. But the farther we traveled down these wide open roads and broad spans of ever changing skies, the more I enjoyed it. Not only were the all the various sizes and types of mountains stunning, but the gold and russet fall foliage of aspens, spattered artfully along clear blue creeks and rivers, felt like eye candy. Between antelope, deer, even a dozen peacocks eating from a recently harvested corn field, it seemed every curve of the road brought new wonders. And Chris delighted in all of it!
Our first stop was in a charming hundred year old stone cottage in Eastern Oregon. The kind of place where you wished the walls could talk, but as a writer, I could imagine the stories hidden in there. Then we ventured on to Sun Valley. Once again I felt pleasantly surprised at how amazing the landscape looked. Tall mountains that reached into the clear blue sky and sloped right down to both sides of the road. And once again the fall colors were stunning. Like I kept telling Chris, who fumbled with attempts to take photos, ‘we can take pictures with our eyes, they’ll last longer.’
In Sun Valley, we saw all the sights we could pack into a few days—the amazing old inn, ice caves, and interesting natural wonders. We all marveled at the unseasonably warm weather for late October. It felt as if God was smiling down on us. Finally it was time to turn back to Oregon and the Steens Mountains. Since our map was tucked away in some unknown place—or lost—I was relying on my phone’s GPS. As usual we left before our fellow travelers and, following my phone’s directions, happily rolled along. Consuming our usual ‘road’ food of jerky, trail mix, and other goodies along the way. I didn’t feel the least bit concerned. After all, we were going to our home state, and we’d been to the Steens before. Many years before—even before GPS. What could possibly go wrong? Over the river and through the woods…or sagebrush as it were. Frenchglen, here we come!
But the route my GPS led us seemed different somehow. Before long, I realized we were coming in the back way. Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem. But then, when I thought we were within an hour of our destination, I realized my phone, which had been plugged into my Jeep’s charger, had unbeknownst to me gone dead. For some reason it wasn’t accepting the charge. And when I tried to load the GPS onto Chris’s phone, he was out of connectivity. That meant no more GPS.
Now might be a good time to mention that this part of the country is described as “the most remote region of the contiguous US.” And apparently we were on the road less traveled to get there. I tried to remember how many miles we were supposed to go before turning to the left. I knew we were close, but all I saw were a few unmarked graveled roads leading to who knew where? But I knew it must be about time to turn.
We’d been visiting and snacking. Had I somehow missed a sign? Surely there must be a sign designating the way to Frenchglen. It was a tiny town, but they must have a sign. After all, there was a little store and hotel, and it’s where I’d booked our BnB. Of course, with my dead phone, refusing to charge, I didn’t even have the specific instructions to get us into the BnB, and that was assuming we could even find it!
Finally, I spotted a car coming down one of the gravel roads and frantically waved down the woman driving it. When I asked for directions she looked amused, but told me to turn down the next road. “Just a few miles. And there should be a sign,” she told me. So feeling reassured, I turned down the next road, which had no sign, and traveled for quite a bit, finally reaching a crossroads and a vandalized sign that was impossible to read. Right or left, I wondered. Flip a coin? Worried about the soon to expire daylight, I chose left and, after several miles, spotted a lone woman walking two dogs. “Is this the way to Frenchglen?” I asked hopefully. She said she didn’t think so then explained she was a visitor too. So much for getting directions.
Realizing it must’ve been the other road, I turned back. By now Chris was concerned. “Why don’t we just go home?” he suggested. Time and space is a little vague to him these days. I tried to explain home was a long ways away and we had accommodations and still wanted to spend time here… but he didn’t really get it. He continued with crazy comments like ‘why are you trying so hard to find this place?’ And ‘why don’t you just turn around?’ My frustration was increasing too.
By now the shadows were getting long, and I was imagining knocking on some farmhouse door and offering to pay to sleep in their barn. But then we spotted the historic round barn built by Pete French. A masterpiece of craftsmanship and a place we recognized from our previous visit. Plus it offered the assurance we were closer to our destination. Although their little gift shop was closed, and no one to offer encouragement or specific directions, there was an outdoor outlet that I borrowed to charge my phone. Waiting for a quick charge, I shot up a heartfelt prayer… Lord, please, help us get there!
With my phone partially charged, but still minus GPS, we took one more wrong turn, discovered more mangled signs, but eventually reached the main road that took us directly to Frenchglen. Sigh of relief.
Just before sunset, I used the code on my phone to let us into the lovely log cabin. We quickly unloaded and headed out to the front deck, where we lifted our glasses of wine, thanked God, and toasted the pretty sunset while we waited for our fellow travelers to arrive. Fortunately, they’d taken the easier road!
Later on, I was able to laugh about our misadventure of getting there. Wasn’t it a lot like life? We make our plans, think we’ve got all the right equipment and knowledge and preparation… and maybe for awhile, all goes well. But then something unexpected happens and our well laid plans go awry. That’s the spot in the road when we’re forced to remember our need to trust God, the moment we need to look to Him for direction, and then we need to be humble enough to accept it. Over the river and through the woods… with a prayer God leads the way.
Reader’s, here’s a look at Melody’s latest release
Adelaide Smith is too busy for fairy tales. She’s been working hard to put herself through law school and now that the end is in sight, she’s determined to stay focused on her goals. Then she receives a letter notifying her that she has been found through a DNA registry to be a direct descendant of King Maximillian V, the ruler of a small Eastern European principality called Montovia. She’s understandably skeptical. This is the stuff of cheesy made-for-TV movies, not real life.
Although the pieces of this surprising family puzzle seem too good to be true, curiosity gets the best of her. At the king’s invitation, Adelaide embarks on a Christmas break trip that is chock-full of surprises, including a charming village, an opulent palace, family mysteries, royal jealousies, a handsome young member of Parliament–and the chance at a real fairy tale romance with a happily-ever-after ending.
Spend this Christmas with bestselling author Melody Carlson as she whisks you away to a royal holiday you’ll never forget!
“The tales in Francesca Maria’s 
