The Allreds, a series of unfortunate events:  Southpass

I'm not sure what it is about camping that makes it so wonderful.   It has been said that camping is where people spend lots of money to live like hobos.   I can't say we exactly live like hobos since we have running water, an indoor toilet and shower,  stove, oven, and a big, soft, squishy bed.   But,  with all the comforts of home,  we get to go miles from any civilization and breathe the fresh air,  enjoy the huge, blue skies, listen to the bubbling streams, and sit around a blazing campfire eating sticky, delicious, smores.  The dogs can run wild in a pack like their ancestors and still sleep in warm beds at night.   It's refreshing, reviving and rejuvenating.   The ills of the world could all be solved if more people sat around campfires.  

Now,  all that being said,  we are still the Allreds, and I am still Calamity Jane, and it would not be an Allred vacation without it's share of "unfortunate events".

All started out well.  We had our little trailer packed and hitched up to our little Jeep packed to the gills with a sluice box,  buckets of dirt, a trunk full of gold pans and sieves, and three dogs. Buddy settled down on the trunk of gold panning stuff and went to sleep.   All was well until. ......

Dave puts his glasses on his head, then he puts them down somewhere and loses them, so I got him a glasses leash so he could just wear them around his neck.  Well,  old habits die hard and he put them on his head while still attached to the leash.   He turned his head to say something to me and they fell off his head with the leash wrapped around his ear.  When he turned back,  the arm of his glasses was right at eye level and stabbed him deep in the corner of his right eye.   He was sure it had poked a hole in his eye and had me look.   There was no hole,  but he was now nearly blind in that eye and the white part was as red as fire.   He looked like some kind of demon.  But he is a sturdy man and he forged on.

We were trundling slowly along through Atlantic City.   Um no,  that would be Atlantic City,  Wyoming,  a quaint little town barely a step above a ghost town. As you enter town there is a sign that states,  "Welcome to Atlantic City,  population about 57".  I'm not sure if they are counting the ghosts, but it would be a good guess.   As we crossed the bridge over the creek on the main street,  Buddy suddenly decided this would be a good place to go to the bathroom and promptly jumped out the open window of the Jeep and headed for the creek. Dave came to a quick stop in the middle of the dirt road and jumped out calling after him.   He opened the back lift door and ordered Buddy to get back in.  Buster,  Frankie' s visiting friend, took advantage of the open lift door to jump out and take care of his doggie business as well. This action caused an oncoming car to stop in the middle of the road to avoid hitting the pack of loose dogs. While Dave was involved in a conversation with the other driver as to how obnoxious young Labradors are,  I decided to get out of the car and attempt to round up the pack. Frank,  who had been sitting in my lap,  took this as his opportunity to also take care of his doggie business and promptly jumped from the car and headed for the creek.  I ran across the road after him and scooped him up under one arm.   I couldn't find Buster and was calling his name when Buddy decided the heroic thing to do was to jump in the creek and swim around,  just to make sure Buster hadn't fallen in. About that time,  Buster appeared on the other side of the road with a bewildered look of,  "What, are you looking for me? ".  I quickly scooped him under my other arm and headed for the car with a now very wet and very muddy Buddy loping behind,  big pink tongue flapping from side to side.  Dogs now once again secured in the Jeep,  the oncoming car free to continue on it's way,  Dave back behind the wheel, and we continued on our way.

Being early spring, and the altitude very high, there was still a fair amount of snow around the Southpass area.   We drove to a few former camping places only to discover them inaccessible because of snow across the road. As we were driving down one road (and here I have to say,  I use the word road very loosely),  we came upon a pond that had collected on the road.   Dave stopped  the Jeep and considered for a moment.   My heart skipped a beat because I knew he would not let this pond stop him.   Sure enough,  he steered a little to the right of the water, and headed through.   I squeezed my eyes shut tight, and checked the buckle on my seat belt. I felt the Jeep hit the pond and slide down the slope of the road as we barreled through.  Heart beating hard  and fast,  I slowly opened one eye to see that we had made it to the other side of the pond, and I let out the breath I had been holding.

We slowly climbed up and down the rocky dirt road when we came to a fork.   One road went up the mountain and one went down to the creek.   Dave remembered a great camping spot down by the creek, so we took the fork down the mountain. To our dismay,  just around the first bend we saw a deep, wide, bank of snow blocking the road. Dave put the car in park and decided to walk the road to see if there was any way through it around the snow bank.  Buddy went with him, of course,  and I waited patiently in the passenger seat with Frank on my lap and Buster in the seat behind me. About the time Dave crossed the snow bank and rounded the bend and was out of sight,  the car,  which apparently was not completely in park, took off down the mountain at top speed.   I panicked!  I screamed for Dave to help me,  like I thought he was going to jump into his superman suit,  fly around the bend and stop the car with his bare hands,  and tried to get my foot, unsuccessfully on the brake pedal.  With my life passing before my eyes and visions of the Jeep and trailer flipping over and rolling down the mountain, or slamming into a tree and bursting in to flame  (I know,  I watch too much TV), a thought managed to force itself into my terror stricken brain.  "Pull the emergency brake you idiot! "  So,  just as the Jeep hit the snow bank,  I yanked the emergency brake,  the Jeep slid into the snow and turned sideways with the little trailer jack knifing coming to a rest at a perfect 90 degree angle beside the Jeep. Dave, hearing my screams, came running around the bend just in time to see the Jeep and trailer come to a halt in a hail of flying snow.  He ran to my door and tried to open it to see if I was ok.  Unfortunately,  the car was buried so deep in the snow,  the door wouldn't open,  which was just as well because I couldn't feel my legs,  or my arms,  or my face.   I had to pause and listen to make sure my heart was still beating.  Yes, there it was pounding away at an alarming speed.   I wasn't quite sure who was shaking harder,  me or Frank. Soon the feeling returned to my legs,  and with a little digging Dave managed to open my door and I got out on wobbling legs.  I took his hand and and asked if we could offer a little prayer of thanks that I wasn't hurt and the Jeep and trailer,  although stuck in the snow, were virtually undamaged. Dave was walking around the scene,  assessing the situation to determine how we were going to get out of this one.  To his horror,  he discovered that we did not have a shovel.   I  went into the trailer and reappeared with two metal camp plates.  We looked at each other,  both with the awful realization that we were going to be removing a lot of snow with two plates like prisoners digging a tunnel out of Shawshank  prison. Dave looked at me and stated,  "you know nobody is going to come down here. "  As my heart began to fall considering the task before us,  Dave turned and looked up the hill,  exclaiming,  "oh my heck,  here comes a truck! " To our delight a nice young man stepped out.   He said he was here with the scouts and hadn't intended to come down that road, but decided he would.  I told him angels came in all forms and ours just happened to be a boy scout.   I quickly loaded our little pack of dogs in the Jeep while Dave hooked his sturdy tow rope ( we did at least have that) from the back of the trailer to the boy scout's truck, and slick as a whistle he pulled truck and trailer out of the snow and up the hill to safety. I tossed my escape plates in the trailer,  thanked our Boy Scout for the rescue,  and we were off.   We took the high road this time.  

We found a very nice camp spot at the top of the hill.   I  carried rocks to make a fire pit while Dave got out his chain saw and cut up dead trees for wood.  A nice steak dinner and then we settled in around our glowing campfire.   Buddy found a treat,  a giant bone, to chew on.   It was probably something archealogically important,  but he didn't care.   The little dogs were worn out and settled in their beds under the table. We watched the sky fill with stars and then fell quickly and soundly asleep after a long day.  The rest of the trip went without incident, mostly.

 

Dave panned a little dirt for some gold,  we bought fishing licenses, but forgot fishing poles. We could have done some metal detecting,  but we forgot the metal detectors.  We took Buddy to the river to swim and Buster fell in.   I quickly  snatched him out,  but he was one shocked puppy. And, last but not least,  for my sister, WE RAN OUT OF TOILET PAPER! !!  As usual, in spite of any and all unfortunate events, it was a great camping trip and I loathe to go back to reality.