People who travel know it is not unusual to have a flight delay, a gate change, or missing luggage. Given our two and a half hour drive from the Boise airport to the Grandjean trailhead, (and our desire for a good nights sleep) we hope to avoid any of these. Alas, hope is not a strategy, and unfortunately we get all of them. While in San Jose airport, we each receive a “sorry but your flight to Boise has been delayed” text. We then receive a weird “sorry but your flight is now back on the original schedule” text. We are unsure why our airline is sorry about being on schedule. I guess they are so used to being sorry that they simply lead with it.

A gate agent then announces that the Austin and Boise flights are switching gates. Confused, we scramble to the Austin gate while the Austin passengers scramble to ours. Tony is tracking his luggage with an air tag, and strangely it remains near the original gate. Out the window Kevin and I can see our luggage being loaded on the plane. John, however, has no clue. He sheepishly admits that he checked his bag in Orange County too late to guarantee it made the flight. At this point he is simply staring at the baggage conveyor belt hoping his will appear. Then things get silly. The conveyor belt reverses and the luggage, including ours, is now being unloaded. An agent announces that the Austin and Boise flights are switching gates again. Apparently Tony’s bag could see this coming and cleverly stayed at the first gate. Confusion ensues. An agent takes to the microphone and tries to explain the craziness. “First of all, these gate changes are not anybody’s fault,” she declares. She then goes on to say that the first change was because the pilot taxied to the wrong gate. Apparently that just happens and it is nobody’s fault. She then proceeds to tell us that the ground crew put too much fuel in the plane for Boise, so they are giving it back to Austin. Now frankly I prefer my airplanes with too much fuel rather than too little, but nobody asks me. Apparently putting the wrong amount of fuel in an airplane just happens, and it too is nobody’s fault. The Austin and Boise passengers scramble again, exchanging gates and curious glances. I am pretty sure we are all being pranked. How many times will we go back and forth before we get the joke?

The eventual flight is uneventful. When we arrive in Boise, all our luggage makes the parade-like rounds on the carousel, except of course John’s. A local agent tells us his will be on a later flight, arriving at 9:30 pm. We are desperate to get to the trailhead, and suddenly find John not as popular with the group. We then go to the rental counter to pick up our pre-paid Toyota RAV4, which of course is not available. We are “upgraded” to what we are told is a larger sized Ford Escape, which might be useful if we ever receive John’s bag. Later I look up a comparison of Toyota RAV4 and Ford Escape. You guessed it, that the RAV4 has more cargo room, so our upgrade is actually a downgrade.

We kill time (rather than John) at a soul food festival in a park by the Boise State campus. There are so many food truck vendors it is difficult to choose. Since time is not an issue, Tony suggests that the best food is probably at the front of the longest line. Unfortunately it also means the best food is usually gone by time we reach that popular front. So when hunger becomes a higher priority than quality, we reroute to shorter lines. Brian and I end up with “The World’s Greatest” macaroni and cheese, which includes a blob of pulled pork. Lacking top billing, the pulled pork is apparently not the world’s greatest, but it is good enough for us. Kevin ends up with a variety of empanadas, which I did not even associate with soul food, but what do I know.

We set as our next goal a Walmart superstore for fuel canisters and last minute food items. John directs us to the wrong Walmart, a grocery store rather than superstore, which fits well with the rest of the day’s misadventures. We eventually reroute to the right Walmart and wander around. How many fuel canisters becomes the hot debate. I knew I would take grief from the boys no matter how many I choose, so I go with a conservative three. Brian selects some questionable blueberry muffins for breakfast at the trailhead.

Brian tries to make up for the muffins by directing us to a nice park on the river. We relax watching nature and kayakers until it is time to get serious. The park has everything we need: picnic tables, a bathroom, and a water faucet to top off our bottles. We sort food and pack gear, while sad pack-less John only watches. Eventually we take John back to the airport to meet up with his bag.

At last, we are on our way, driving the two and a half hours to Grandjean. We arrive after midnight. Terri and I had scouted the place on a previous trip and it was very empty. Tonight there are cars everywhere. As we squeeze past a line of parked cars half blocking the road, a guy in sleeping bag on ground frantically shines his flashlight at us. Although sleeping in the road, he apparently does not want to be run over. Although we oblige, we are exhausted and do need to crash. We eventually do, at a strangely empty campsite. We are not sure what is wrong with his site, but we take it. We cowboy camp, throwing down tarps and sleeping bags. There is suppose to be a meteor shower, but we focus on sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.