I am pretty certain every life experience I have ever had has culminated for the purpose of creating an english riding-cowgirl-hiker-hippie chick-ethnic Mormon- farm girl-fiddle playing lady that was just made for the living in Boulder, Utah.
A month has passed since I moved to Deer Creek. We have had 2 official work trips moving Russian olive camps. Our very first trip was schedule the same day we had a beautiful monsoon storm set in. Rain or shine, we were supposed to pack the Russian Olive crews down to the river, so we planned to set out and bring our muck boots for the mud we would surely encounter.
One very handy farm skill my life forgot to equip me with was being competent at driving a stick shift vehicle. I had some bumpy experiences with driving various boyfriends trucks in desperate situations and scraping by driving a few miles, but alas, I didn't think that was worth mentioning when they asked if I had experience driving a stick. Since Grant would be driving the '67 2 ton truck with the 5 horses in the back, I would b deriving the 1970 something 1 ton pickup with all the feed, hear, and tack. Also he pointed out its food to have another vehicle to jump the other when our in the desert. Apparently a frequent occurrence. Thus, they were kind enough to give me a driving lesson the night before, and after 20 minutes up and down the driveway, I was dubbed ready.
The day of departure started early with coffee, thick fresh cream, honey and lots of rain. I suppose most people would be most nervous about the part where we take a bunch of horses to the middle of nowhere in flood conditions, but I was definitely most nervous about driving that dang truck over highway 12. It's a gorgeous drive with some outstanding views because you drive up and down some pretty massive hills and go over one part called the Hog's Back. It's maybe a mile long windy road on the very top of a thin ridge. Apparently back in the day when it was all one lane, everyone in town had a story about when they had to lose a side mirror on their car if they met another traveler on the Hog's Back since either side drops off into oblivion. This is the road I would drive the first time I ever drove a clutch.
So we drive. Getting out of the driveway was a success! When the driveway includes a river bed, I think I can feel accomplished about completing that part of the route. Next up, drive into Boulder and be able to park at the gas station in front of your boss without stalling and looking like you won't ever make it to the trailhead...Sort of success!
It also didn't help my slight driving anxiety after he told me its best to use lower gears and pretend you don't have breaks so you don't wear them out. He learned the really hard way when his breaks went out in his truck on this same stretch of highway and ran him into a cliff at 75 mph. Miraculously it wasn't off a cliff and he did a somersault out the front windshield and landed in some sagebrush and survived. Ok, low gears down hill, check.
Fueled up with gasoline, a couple bars of Chocolove, and good conversation complete with good lucks and farewells, we head for the highway. We were also lucky enough to pick up our right hand man Mojo to give us a hand. I was excited, and the more it rained, the more I knew we were in for an adventure.
Climbing up hills, dropping into canyons, we made it to the Hog's Back just in time for the full force of the rain to come down and hide the cars driving in front of us, but showing us what seemed to be hundreds of waterfalls shooting off every canyon wall below us. We pulled over and watched.
I was having a great time. We dropped down off the high narrow road and just then I hear that dreaded mushy sound of a tire going seriously flat, fast. We haven't even been on the road for more than an hour and we have to put a damper on it. Since I was driving, I felt responsible. Ugh. Luckily, the rain sent most of its big fat drippy friends down already, and we only had a bit of sprinkling while we took a tire off the back and tossed it on the front. But, with all the mud and serious bouldery roads up ahead, we decided we better get another tire from Escalante. The tire dude advised us to replace both front tires since he thought the other was sure to go any day now. Now, 2 hours after the initial flat, we were ready to head down Hole in the Rock Road and get out to Egypt.
We drove through the washboards, hills, sand, boulders, mud, more steep hills that I was brilliant enough to stall out on the top of, across washes, and made it to the trailhead. Grant was saying how we were actually really lucky to have had that flat tire since we ended up driving out a few hours after the worst of the rain. Since there is so much sand, it drains super fast, but if we had been trying during the big rain, we probably would've been stuck. And, if we hasn't had that flat, I bet we would've gotten it for sure with all the rough roads we were driving. I can't imagine trying to jack up that big truck stuck in the mud with a flat tire somewhere.
That was definitely one of those instances where you can say, "Good luck? Bad luck?" You really don't know what kind of luck it is until more of the story has played out. That flat tire could have really saved our trip from really turning into an adventure fast.
The timing was perfect, and the rain really poured as soon as we were all loaded up and heading to our campsite along the river. I can't begin to describe the absolute magical feeling I had while riding through a desert filled with instantly appearing foamy rivers and hundreds of feet tall waterfalls in every direction pouring off red sandstone cliffs. It was loud. It totally made getting kicked in the thigh by the biggest horse George totally worth it.
