Our Most Memorable Vacation —the Rat Motel!

August 1992. The drive was long but fun and filled with anticipation: Richmond, Missouri, to Denver, Colorado, and then a quick overnight at Chris and Mitch’s before leaving for Blue Mesa Reservoir in Southwestern Colorado the next day.

We carpooled with the Gardners, who drove their full-sized van while we went in ours. By mid-afternoon, we settled into our “hunting” cabin at Blue Mesa: a small two-bedroom cabin with a kitchen, bath, and living room with a pot-bellied stove. David and Daniel immediately commandeered the set of bunk beds in the smaller bedroom while Chris snuggled three-month-old Josiah on one of the three couches lining three walls in the living room.

In no time, David and Daniel, ages eight and six, delighted themselves in the woods around our cabin while we prepared dinner. The lake view out the kitchen window was breathtaking. We chatted and made plans with the guys for the next few days of relaxing, fishing, and eating delicious kokanee salmon! An hour later, the boys reappeared hot and sweaty, ready for supper and needing baths. They parked their newly found larger-than-life walking sticks in a corner of the living room. 

Blue Mesa was known for its plentiful fish and delicious freshwater kokanee salmon. Chris and Mitch had fished here in previous years because they knew some of the proprietor’s family members. From experience, they told us we’d catch the most kokanee while night fishing. 

I happily volunteered to watch the three boys while Mitch, Chris, and Don fished that first night. I privately looked forward to donning my PJs and settling in with my magazine after supervising baths, reading the boys a book, and getting them settled on the bunk. And the evening went precisely as planned! Josiah was snuggled on a couch to my right as I relaxed on the sofa facing the stove with my back to the kitchen. I began my quiet evening while the others fished.

My “quiet” was suddenly interrupted by a soft skittering sound. Silence. Then, more skitters. I remained on the couch as I looked around. Suddenly, I saw an animal the size of a young rabbit scamper from the stove to the farthest couch. Immediately reasoning that Chapstick, the Gardners’ German Shepherd, must have spooked a rabbit inside earlier in the day, I went back to my reading with no concern, just a curiosity. 

The skitter of feet against the hard linoleum floor came again, but this time, to my chagrin, I saw a long tail well over six inches long! That was no cute cotton-tailed bunny. It was a rat!

My heart pounded, and my brain quickly did cartwheels as I watched it scamper from the stove to the couch and back again. How could I possibly keep it at bay? It was barely dark outside. How long into the night would Don fish with Chris and Mitch?

I quickly ventured off the couch and grabbed one of the boy’s walking sticks—my only protection. Back on the sofa, with my feet tucked under me, I watched the overly brave rodent. I lifted the stick and whack! I hit the floor so forcefully that the rat ran under the stove and stayed—for a few brief minutes. When it stuck its head out, I responded with my stick, “Whack!” Repeatedly, again and again, but he seemed immune to my whacks in no time. He scampered from the stove back under a couch. 

My mind reeled. Three couches. The rat claimed the left-hand couch and stove. I sat on the middle couch, and Josiah was asleep on the right-hand sofa. Whack. Silence. A pointy nose and skittering feet. Whack again. Out of necessity, my whacks were coming sooner as the rat grew braver, seeming to know this was his home before I invaded it. How long could I keep this up? All night? My paltry walking stick didn’t seem as powerful for me as it had for my mighty little explorers when they parked them in the corner. “Maybe I should have grabbed both of them,” I thought.

I wished I could call them to come home, but this was before such things as cell phones. I relied on the other tool in my arsenal, which wasn’t physical! I began to pray desperately, “God, please don’t let them catch any fish. Cause them to give up and come home!” I knew this was a long shot because we were prepared with multiple coolers and had already discussed the fishing limits. Chris and Mitch heralded the fantastic fishing; we’d have enough fish to buy dry ice for the coolers and stock our deep freezers at home. “No fish, God. Please, no fish. Cause them to come home.” Whack. Whack. Whack. 

Minutes turned to a couple of hours when suddenly, at 10:00, I heard a car motor and Chapstick’s bark. “I can’t believe we didn’t catch anything!” “We never catch ‘nothing.’” They walked into the kitchen and grumbled half-heartedly. Then Don saw me. 

“What is wrong?” He could tell from my swollen eyes and panicky look that I was stressed. 

“There is a rat in here,” I announced. 

As I mentioned, the Gardners had been here before. As kindly as I guess they could counter, one said, “Oh, it was probably a mouse,” while they sat at the kitchen table and began preparing 10:00 PM sandwiches. Don sat down also. (I remained stoic on my couch with my feet up underneath me!)

The emotions from the past two and a half hours began to overflow, and my anger began to simmer when Don suddenly exclaimed, “Mitch, that IS a rat!” He jumped from his kitchen chair and stood in the open living room entrance.

In no time, Mitch and Don devised a plan. Mitch would stand on one side of the stove with Chapstick on his lease, while Don would drop a large log on the rat after they spooked it his way. Even today, the scene is worthy of a comic act. The guys took their spots, ready to conquer! Chapstick jerked and smelled the air. Don held the log. We saw the rat’s tail, and almost as quickly as it disappeared, we all heard the skitter of feet scampering up the metal stove pipe. No luck killing that rat. The guys waited as Mr. Rat occasionally peeked out from under the stove, only to scamper back up again.

By now, it was midnight. Chris and I drove to the main office and woke up the manager. His reply was, “Well, do you want my 22? I can’t do anything now, but I’ll put out a trap tomorrow.” No luck until morning, it seemed. We made our way back to the cabin. 

“I’m not sleeping in here,” I determinedly whispered to Don, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I wouldn’t! We all agreed to bed down in our vans. Don lowered the van’s backseat and carried the boys to their new bed. I lay down beside them. Don did his best to stretch out in a captain’s chair. Chris, Mitch, and Josiah bedded down in their van. 

The following morning, we entered the cabin and found rat droppings on all the beds and couches. The manager put out large rat traps and offered us a different cabin, but guess what? We packed up and left after discovering skunks sleeping under that porch! We had a vacation we’ll never forget with lifelong friends; we came home with empty coolers but a wealth of stories. I’m so grateful God answers prayers and gives us something to laugh about years later with great “forever” friends!