At what point do you stop trying to make it work? Dear reader, you have been privy to most of my traveling
issues but not all of them. Buckle up because
here comes the entire saga.
Greetings from the Seubert RV Park in Cottonwood,
Idaho. Yes, another RV park, and yes, I
am thrilled to be here despite the fact that Wurzig and Beagle arrived here separately.
Go ahead and think about that for a
minute.
Once again, my plans have been tossed aside by the winds of
fate.
When planning the Boise to Priest River phase of my trip, I
had decided to camp only where I would have cell service. Between car issues, trailer issues and health
issues, I figured it was time to be more conservative.
My research led me to stop for two nights at the Pine Bar
Recreation Area in Cottonwood, Idaho. I
used the Verizon coverage map to determine that I should have cell service and
the place looked delightful; an asphalt road winding along the Lower Salmon River to the camping area.
Leaving Boise, I made a rookie mistake and passed by an
Albertson’s grocery with a nice, large parking lot. It was early on in the drive and I wasn’t
ready to stop yet despite needing a few groceries. I figured I would find another store in one
of the smaller towns further north.
Due to construction, I had to travel along Highway 95 rather
than my original route, Highway 55, but it proved just as beautiful; the highway
travels along the Snake River and I noted the many attractive camping areas and
RV parks along the way. All with strong Verizon
service according to my phone.
About half way to my destination, the audio went out in Wurzig. Again.
This had started on my drive down from Ketchum and I thought I had it
repaired while in Boise. But apparently
not. In addition, Wurzig had begun
sending off meaningless alerts like “rear brake light out” or “too close to car
in front” (and no, Mom, I was not too close.)
There are two things you don’t want to experience when towing your
home: An unreliable tow vehicle and “Dead
End” signs. I had one and was about to
have both.
I had an upcoming appointment with Porsche in Spokane so
tried to put the messages aside (the warning lights would often disappear after
turning off the engine but, alas, the sound never returned on that drive.)
At five miles off of Highway 95, along the gorgeous Graves
Creek Road, Google announced that I “had arrived” at the campground just before
I lost Verizon service. I was no where
near a campground. I was on a (barely)
two-lane road traveling between farms and cattle, alongside a creek, with stunning
bright green hills surrounding me. I had
no choice but to keep going forward, there was no place to turn around.
Then there came a “V” in the road, to the left a sign
indicated, “Pine Bar Recreation Area” (note, no mention of the campground)
along with “Dead End” and to the right was unknown. Not brave enough to force the issue with the “Dead
End” sign, I turned right. The road became
even more narrow with still no place to turn around. Thankfully, a cowboy on his modern 4-wheeled
horse came toward me, I waved him down.
“Hi, thanks
for stopping, do you know if I can turn around anywhere up here?”
“Yes, just
around a couple more corners there is a spot which should be wide enough for
you.”
“Great. I’m looking for the camping area, is it down
the dead-end road?”
“Oh yes,
there is a lot of camping down there.”
Now a note about Idahoans and their idea of camping: They are use to a lot of BLM land, land where
you can just pull over, put down your stabilizers and call it a night. I prefer a real campground so wasn’t
completely confident that the cowboy’s response would work for me.
I managed to turn around where he suggested and headed down the
dead-end road. An absolutely beautiful,
gorgeous drive. I cannot say enough about
it; the Lower Salmon River flowing at the bottom, the dark rock cliffs leading
up to horizontal meadows of bright green grass spotted with black cows and the occasional
tree. I was in heaven. But still no cell service.
After about four miles of this I decided I better take the
next pull off area and head out on foot to determine if there really was a campground
further along. Beagle and Wurzig safely
off the road, I hooked up the Noses and we set off.
Almost a mile later we came to the “Pine Bar Recreation Area”
sign (again no mention of the campground) and, due to the winding nature of the
road, I could not see very far. But I
could see that River had had enough walking and we needed to get back to the
car. Noting that I could drive down to
the sign and be able to turn around, I decided that was a good next step.
On the (very slow due to River) walk back to the car, a
couple pulling a travel trailer came down the road toward me. I waved them over.
“Hi,
thanks for stopping, is there really a campground down there?”
“Oh yes,
it’s lovely. There are only six sites so
you are arriving at a good time. Is that
your rig parked up above?”
“Yes, I
was nervous about the ‘dead-end’ sign and thought to walk to the campground but
my older dog cannot go any further.”
“Well,
you’ll love it down there when you get there.”
“Wonderful,
I’ll see you there!”
Are you wondering about my promise to myself regarding cell
service? I sure was. But I was holding out hope that it would magically
appear at the campground.
Pulling into the camping area, I noticed D&K’s rig
parked up to the left; I continued down to the turn-around. I assumed I would loop around and park up there
with them. But Site #6 sat all alone at
the end of the road and it was vacant. I
looked at it a long time trying to figure out what was wrong since surely
D&K would have taken it—it’s hard to imagine a better camping spot.
But it was evidently available so I spent the next twenty minutes
backing Beagle into the exact right spot and making her level. It was
Thursday, 3:00 PM. Start the twenty-two
hour clock.
Still no cell service, but I could not pass up the opportunity
to stay there for two nights. After
coming close to turning back home at least twice, this was a reminder of why I
do this. Peaceful, beautiful, and I felt
very comfortable.
D&K sought me out a bit later and we chatted for awhile
during which I let slip that I passed up a grocery store when I should not have.
“What do
you need?”, D immediately asked.
“Oh,
nothing, I was just stocking up.”
“But you
had stuff on your list, what do you need?
We have tons of supplies.”
“Well,
honestly, what I needed most was bread.”
“Do you
like Dave’s Killer Bread?”
“Love it!”
“How many
slices?”
“Two would
be fantastic, that way I can have my peanut butter toast both mornings.”
Such a nice couple, I was thrilled to hear the next morning
(which dawned clear and warm and with clarity and color like something out of a
Pixar movie) that they decided to stay two nights as well.
Friday morning I took Opus on a long walk and just soaked up
the atmosphere. I had on shorts! The sun was shining, the scenery was breath-taking
(pictures do not do it justice), and then just sat in the sun until I felt like
moving again.
Which was around 1:00 PM, when I decided to make my next day's travel a bit easier by heading into town and getting groceries and gas. I started Wurzig, was surprised to hear sound
come out of the speakers, and barely noticed the ding of an alert bell (having
heard so many by now.) But when I put it
in gear, I heard the unmistakable and heartbreaking sound of a completely flat
tire attempting to roll on gravel. This time
the warning was true, there really was no air pressure in that tire.
I walked up to D&K’s site intending to ask for a ride up
to cell service so I could call AAA (incidentally, they passed up site #6
because they had parked there before and had a terrible time getting level, or
so they say, I think they left it open for me—they are those kind of people)
but they were all closed up so I thought they were out hiking. Walking back, I passed another set of campers,
introduced myself and told them of my issue.
“We could
certainly give you a ride, but do you have a spare tire?”
“Yes, but
it’s nothing I can get on.”
“Well, we
can put the spare on for you.”
And so grandfather and grandson came over and spent a good
hour changing my tire. I’m not sure they
knew what they were getting into—a German car and its funky tools and jack “like
they’ve never seen before” but they got the job done. I did offer twice to do the AAA thing but the
grandson just said, “No, this is a challenge now.”
I like these Idaho people.
Spare on and the flat tire loaded in the back, the Noses and
I made our way, very slowly, the twenty miles into Cottonwood.
Naturally, the hole was in the sidewall (unrepairable),
naturally they do not stock high performance 21” tires, naturally I would need
to replace all four in order to not mess up the all-wheel drive. (We have been here before, haven’t we dear
reader?)
I sat down while the young man worked at the computer locating
the appropriate tires and providing me an estimated installation date.
“Looks like
they will be here Tuesday, we could get them on Tuesday afternoon for you.”
“Ok.”
He looks over at me for a minute.
“Are you
ok, ma’am?”
And that’s all it took, one more nice person to make me crumble. To my horror, tears began to fall down my
face. The big fat ones that come when words just aren't enough.
I look to all the world like someone who cries because they
have a flat tire.
“I’m so
sorry, it’s just been one hell of trip.”
“It’s ok
ma’am, we’ve all had trips like that.”
“But… but… but…” I wanted to lay it all out: The trailer brakes, the flat tire in Reno,
the food poisoning that led to a concussion that led to an ER visit, the weird electronic
issues with Wurzig. And most of all,
how, just when I was feeling like I was about to enjoy The Trip as Planned, I
got another Friday Night Smack-Down.
Instead, I walked quickly to my car and cried into a Taco
Bell napkin.
Looking up I noticed two women watching me from inside the
grocery store across the street. They
quickly turned away. I dried my tears,
finalized things with the tire guy and decided to pick up some groceries while
I figured out the best way to handle the next five nights.
“Can I
help you?” the lady asked as I was making my way stoically through the aisles.
“You could
point me toward the bread.”
“Right
side toward the cashier.”
“Thank you.”
“Excuse
me, I don’t mean to pry, but we noticed you might be having a rough day, is
there anything I can do for you?”
And the tears started again.
Good lord! This entire town
thinks that I am such wuss! The Lady
from California Who Cries Because She Has a Flat Tire.
“Thank
you, but it’s just been one of those days.
Well, months really.”
“It could
always be worse.”
Which is a statement that I cannot stand. But I stopped, took a breath and thought,
yes, I could be attempting to live in the Ukraine right now. Gain some perspective.
Exactly what I needed to kick myself into gear. I was in town, I had cell service, I needed a
plan because I was not going to spend five nights out at Pine Bar with no cell
service and no way to freshen Beagle’s tanks (impossible to tow with a spare
tire on.)
I tried AAA but was on hold for too long. I walked to a car repair shop and arranged
for someone to come out Saturday morning and tow Beagle to the local RV
park. They offered to do it that night
but I had had enough. I just wanted to
get back to Beagle, put everything back that was tossed and thrown around while
digging out tools and an air compressor, deliver beer to the grandfather and grandson,
and drink one myself.
Back at camp, D&K sought me out having heard of the flat
from the grandfather. They were aghast
that I had to wait until Tuesday and suggested that we get back to cell range
and try some tire stores in Lewiston. I
tried to tell them that no one ever stocks these tires but they would not hear
of it. Isn’t it worth a try? They kept asking. They had a point. By then I had downed half a beer so I was up
for just about anything.
And so we loaded into their truck and drove back into
town. No one in Lewiston could get the
tires any faster than the local shop.
But D&K were not going to be thwarted from helping me. They made me go back to the car shop and
cancel the Beagle retrieval, stating that there was no way they would allow
that to happen when they can easily hitch Beagle to their truck and tow me
out. Honestly, I argued and argued with
them but I think D was getting mad.
So I let people help me once again.
Actually, the laughter they provided along the drive with
their sharp wit and funny stories helped me more than anything.
D arrived bright and early at 7:00 AM and we hitched Beagle
to his Ram truck and drove the twenty-three miles to the RV park where just
getting me level wasn’t enough for D; despite the freezing rain, he swapped out
a piece of hardware on my rigging to make my life easier and put some bright
tape on the nose of my hitch saying, “You won’t believe how much easier lining
up will be with this marker.”
Finally, I convinced him to get back; I knew they wanted to
head home this morning and he still had to go all the way back to camp and pick
up K and their trailer. He offered a hug
which I readily accepted, tears welling up in my eyes again.
And so what now? It
has crossed my mind to just give up but if I start limiting my experience of Earth
now, at age 56, imagine how narrow my life will be in ten years? I’ve got at least four nights in mostly rain
to think it through. But I don’t see me
giving up. Even this spot has its
charms: The pitches are angled up a
hillside with views across farmland into the mountains (when it’s not socked in
with rain), a shower where they provide towels (!!!), individual soaps (!!!)
and shampoos and a gracious hostess who, upon greeting me this morning (and
knowing of my situation since yesterday), asked, “You are going through a rough patch, is
there anything I can do for you?”
-K
