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- Jun 29, 2007
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About 10 years ago on Memorial Day Weekend, I had my only real survival situation. I was 4 wheeling with 2 of my college buddies in one guy's 1983 Bronco. He had just put in a new 400 C.I. engine and we we're all excited to go camping. Our destination was The Clear Creek Management Area.
We spent Saturday and Sunday shooting guns, 4wheeling, spelunking, and hiking. BBQing, drinking,smoking and rocking out to Tool at night. A typical Nor-Cal hella-fun time was had by all.
On Memorial Day we BBQ'd some food around 3pm. I remember I ate a whole roasted chicken, 2 small bakes potatoes, and a half loaf of Colombo sourdough bread. I had 2 Coors Lights around 1pm.
We packed up our stuff around 4pm and started heading home. About a mile or so into our departure the road turns into a ledge on the side of a hill. The roads had a MAJOR rut that was filled with water. My buddy decides to sort of swerve around the ruts towards the slope side of the hill.
All of a sudden, the weight of the Bronco caused the ledge to collapse!! I thought I was gonna roll to my death right then and there. It was all in slow motion as they say.
The Bronco came to a rest in the proverbial "precariously perched" position. The left wheels were on the slope side. The right wheels were on the ledge/road. The rig was at about a 45 degree angle. It was straight out of cliffhanger movie. No one wanted to move an inch, for fear of the weight shift causing the car to plummet down the hill.
We very slowly got out of the Bronco. My buddy who owned the truck started crying.
"I just spent $3,000 on that new engine!!," he screamed. He thought it was gonna be relegated to a newly formed Bronco graveyard.
We all 3 took a deep breath and sat down to assess our predicament. We all decided that we should just hike down the main road towards the management area entrance.
"No problem boys. There is bound to be campers along the way who can help us," I thought to my self.
We took off for a short trip to the nearest campground area. We all figured it was, maybe, 1 mile at the most, to the 1st campground area. There was 2 more past that one on the road to the main entrance. We didn't really take anything extra from the car for our short hike.
I had on jeans, a Stone Temple Pilots t shirt and a very thin cotton, gray hooded sweatshirt. I had in my pocket a Bic lighter and my pipe. On my belt was my Bucklite w/ black cordura sheath. I took along one 12 oz. can of Coca-Cola and a small bag of peanut M&M's.
Our party of 3 makes it to the first campground in about 45 minutes. The campground was empty. It was jammed packed yesterday. But, here in the now, not a soul to be found.
We keep on hiking to the next campground. No one is there either. Empty campground with smoldering firepits.
At this point I felt a decision had to be made. It was getting dark. We probably had about an hour of sunlight left.
"Whadda think boys? Should we head back to the truck and set up camp there for the night?" I asked.
One friend said, "Yeah. Rock is right.We should head back to the truck and set up camp nearby."
"Come on! Let's keep going!" The Bronco owner yelled from 15 feet in front of us.
So, my buddy and I just looked at each other and followed him down the road. That was my biggest mistake looking back at it now. We should have set up camp. Made a light meal. Got a good night rest. And, the next day head out with full hiking gear, a full stomach, snack food and water.
The 3rd campground came upon us at sunset. Ghost town. Our hopes were dashed, bigtime. Morale was at an all-time low for the expedition.
The same dilemma again. Do we hike back to the truck? Or, try and make it to the "main road" that was just a bit down the way? The main road wasn't really a main road. It was pretty rural in itself.
We decided that since the main road was just around a few more bends of the road, we would continue on. I was starting to get hungry at this point. The night air was getting crisp.
We walked down the road. And then some more. Bend after bend in the road. Luckily, it was all downhill. We finally come across a hiking staging area/parking lot. There was a one man restroom with a cement floor and a nice shingle roof. There was a bullet hole riddled dumpster filled about halfway. A big piece of rolled up carpet stuck out from the top. And a dirt parking lot.
We decided that it we should give up on reaching the main road that night. The parking lot was our camp for the night. My stomach was growling something fierce. I had finished off the M&M's about an hour earlier. The Coca-Cola was gone too. It was starting to get around maybe 50 degrees that evening.
I was determined to make a fire against the side of the dumpster to reflect the heat. Just like I was taught by my father camping in the San Juan Mountains. Just like I read in my Cub Scout manual when I was 9 years old. Having that Bic lighter turned out to be crucial.
I took out my Bucklite and my lighter. I dug out a cardboard box and started making cardboard kindling. We found some dry sticks nearby and I made a pseudo tee pee style/lean to kindling pile against the side of the dumpster. I even reminded my friends of my survival skill brilliance with the reflective heat tactic. The life saving fire was successfully light and we all huddled around it. One friend only had on a t shirt and nothing else. He was shivering pretty bad. In addition, I think he was dehydrated. He started coughing up some ugly looking, white phlegm.
This is where the serpentine terrain really comes into the story. All along the road Clear Creek was really close. It looked so pretty in the alien like ecosystem. But, there were posted warning signs everywhere along the river.
DO NOT DRINK THE WATER!!
Then some small print like, "This area is known to contain asbestos which has been shown to cause......blah..blah....blah".
I kept asking myself what the consequences would be if I drank a few gulps. Would I embed one fiber of asbestos in my body that would bring me down 20 years later? 20 rounds of chemo therapy? Having to say good bye to my mother on my death bed?
"Guys, I don't give a F what the signs say. I'm gonna get a few gulps of water," I proclaimed.
"No no! Don't do it Trent!", they screamed at me, "It's loaded with asbestos!"
So I caved in and didn't drink any water out of the river. This may have been my 2nd biggest mistake.
We huddled around the fire for about an hour. The temp was down to about the low 40's I would estimate. It was an endless battle to keep the fire going with small sticks. One of the guys found a pallet in the dumpster and he pulled it out. We all took it apart with our hands, feet, brute strength, and leveraging it against the parking lot logs. Our small, unproductive fire was gonna become a real campfire for warmth.
The fire was going fine with the pallet wood. We we're getting comfortably warm. The pipe was smoked because we had no food, shelter or water. Pure boredom, I guess. We started laughing at our predicament amongst ourselves. How we should have stayed at the car. The hamburgers we could be eating. The huge fire we would have built. The warm clothes and the bottled water. Hell, I even had 2 more Coors Lights left.
Then disaster struck. The contents of the dumpster started to catch on fire. The campfire has leaked through the bullet holes in the dumpster. Smoke was pouring out of the dumpster. The fire was getting big and it reeked like melted plastic.
Being a Homo Economicus, my mind started racing. "Great, now the U.S. Forest Dept. is gonna give me a bill for $500,000 for starting a forest fire," I thought to myself. How lovely.
We all jumped into action. It took about 45 minutes to put the dumpster fire out. We used the big roll of carpet to sort of tamp it out. It was was pretty scary, thinking you could have started a major forest fire. It was mainly out, but it still was putting out smoke. I think something was still smoldering in the bottom of the dumpster.
After we put out the dumpster fire, we started a new one away from the dumpster. We kept it small and used the pallet wood. It was real cold by now. My buddy with just the t shirt was hating it.
This is where the psychology of survival came into play. I was trippin' at the THOUGHT of having no food. No where to get food, either. I was starving. I really felt for the homeless people. I kept telling myself I was gonna look at how homeless people lived with empathy from that night on. This was only one night without food. I vowed to try my best to never be homeless. Being hungry and cold that night was pure hell. And I couldn't even drink water from the pretty little Clear Creek.
I decided to go in the restroom and try and catch a few hours sleep. The plan was to finally make it to the main road in the morning. I went in the outhouse and laid down on the fairly clean looking cement floor. It was about 10 degrees warmer inside the restroom. However, it reeked like feces and urine.
Do I really want to sleep in a modern day outhouse? This is pretty low. I'm not a huge germ phobic. But, still, sleeping in a sh1#ter? I got this ear worm of Cousin Eddy from Vacation. He's draining the septic tank from his rv and he says, "Sh$%ters full!!". I had the ear worm for like 10 minutes and I decided to stay up until sunrise. If I could just make it through the cold a few more hours I would be OK.
My other 2 friends feel asleep for a few hours. the sun started to come up and it was getting warmer. We had made it through the night. Now all we had to do was make it to the main road and hope someone came by. The dumpster was still billowing smoke from the fire.
***
We took off for the main road in the morning. I was thirsty as hell. The creek with the warning signs led the way to the main road. We passed a closed ranger depot along the way. No one in sight.
Finally, we see a few cars coming down the main road. We try and flag them down, but they keep on going. I figured it's because we looked pretty dirty and scary. 3 big guys with nappy hair and dirt on our faces. I wouldn't have stopped either
A white Ford Escort approaches us. He slows down. Yes! We are saved, we thought. The Ford pulls up along side us. The dude rolls down the window. About 40 years old, balding, sorta George Costanza looking. I instantly noticed he had his hand under his seat. He appears to be clutching something. I know what it is.
So after all we went through, I am gonna get capped by some psycho serial killer. I got an ear worm of Ned Beatty in Deliverance, "Guys, I don't want this getting around." The next ear worm I got was Marcellus from Pulp Fiction, "Imma get medieval on your @$$!"
"Sup fellas?", the dude asks. I also notice a 24 Oz. in a brown paper bag on the passenger seat. Now I'm thinking Jeffery Dahmer.
"We almost rolled down a hill to our deaths and we had to camp at the staging area," my friend stated, "can you give us a ride to a tow station?"
"Man, I don't know. I usually don't pick up strangers. But, hop on in!", he said.
He told us that he had a brand new Cummings diesel dually. It would easily pull the Bronco out. He told us how he lost his job. His wife was nagging up on him. He was out taking a drive to get away from her. He's running low on money.
"Dude, if you tow my Bronco out I'll give you 200 bucks," my friend offered.
The guys SLAMS down the accelerator and screams, "Hell yeah!! I'm bringing home my wife a tri-tip steak and some Heineken tonight!! Man, is she gonna be happy!!"
****
We all pile into his dually. The thing was nice. He kept giving us the specs on the torque and horsepower. He was proud of that dually.
The Cummings drives through the main entrance towards it's target vehicle. Past the ranger depot. All along the pretty Clear Creek. We get close to the smoldering dumpster and my friend's and I glance at each other. The truck slows down to look at the smoking dumpster.
The dude says, "damn, what happened here?"
We all shrugged our shoulders, "No idea, that is weird". He knew what was up. We continued up the road.
We get to the precariously perched Bronco. It turns out we hiked 9 miles. We had estimated that from the truck to the main road was about 2 miles. Our perception of distance was way off. In retrospect, this was another mistake we made.
The guy hooks up a tow rope to the front of the Bronco. My buddy gets in the car. I thought I was gonna witness my friend roll to his death. I was one of the scariest moments of my life. My other thought was that the Bronco might take the dually down the hill with it. The tow rope acting as a tether. It was hit or miss. either the pull is a success. Or, I will witness the deaths of 2 people. Then I have to hike another 9 miles with my buddy. After seeing 2 deaths? I almost couldn't bear to watch the attempt.
"Ok! Start her up!!"
The Bronco 400 c.i. fires up with a roar on the 1st twist of the ignition key. The dually advances forward. The tow rope becomes taunt. This is the moment of truth. My buddy puts his rig in drive and mashes the pedal. The dually does the same.
That Bronco came SO close to rolling. The tires somehow, miraculously, bit into the dirt. It was on the verge of rolling. I can't even describe how close it was to rolling. 3 more degrees angle difference and she would have been lost. Both engines howled, the tow rope looked stressed, and the pull was a complete success.
The Good Samaritan followed us to a Von's store. My friend took out 200 clams from the ATM and gave the guy his reward. He slowly disappeared down the aisle towards the tri-tips on the way to the beer cooler. We ate a lot of food and pounded down bottled water.
My bad knee was toast from that 9 mile hike. It was really sore for a few days. My feet had pseudo jungle rot. My teeth were crusty. The BO was in an advanced stage.
What was my ear worm for the long ride home in the Bronco you all ask? That is easy.
[youtube]aA3inbcb6FQ[/youtube]
We spent Saturday and Sunday shooting guns, 4wheeling, spelunking, and hiking. BBQing, drinking,smoking and rocking out to Tool at night. A typical Nor-Cal hella-fun time was had by all.
On Memorial Day we BBQ'd some food around 3pm. I remember I ate a whole roasted chicken, 2 small bakes potatoes, and a half loaf of Colombo sourdough bread. I had 2 Coors Lights around 1pm.
We packed up our stuff around 4pm and started heading home. About a mile or so into our departure the road turns into a ledge on the side of a hill. The roads had a MAJOR rut that was filled with water. My buddy decides to sort of swerve around the ruts towards the slope side of the hill.
All of a sudden, the weight of the Bronco caused the ledge to collapse!! I thought I was gonna roll to my death right then and there. It was all in slow motion as they say.
The Bronco came to a rest in the proverbial "precariously perched" position. The left wheels were on the slope side. The right wheels were on the ledge/road. The rig was at about a 45 degree angle. It was straight out of cliffhanger movie. No one wanted to move an inch, for fear of the weight shift causing the car to plummet down the hill.
We very slowly got out of the Bronco. My buddy who owned the truck started crying.
"I just spent $3,000 on that new engine!!," he screamed. He thought it was gonna be relegated to a newly formed Bronco graveyard.
We all 3 took a deep breath and sat down to assess our predicament. We all decided that we should just hike down the main road towards the management area entrance.
"No problem boys. There is bound to be campers along the way who can help us," I thought to my self.
We took off for a short trip to the nearest campground area. We all figured it was, maybe, 1 mile at the most, to the 1st campground area. There was 2 more past that one on the road to the main entrance. We didn't really take anything extra from the car for our short hike.
I had on jeans, a Stone Temple Pilots t shirt and a very thin cotton, gray hooded sweatshirt. I had in my pocket a Bic lighter and my pipe. On my belt was my Bucklite w/ black cordura sheath. I took along one 12 oz. can of Coca-Cola and a small bag of peanut M&M's.
Our party of 3 makes it to the first campground in about 45 minutes. The campground was empty. It was jammed packed yesterday. But, here in the now, not a soul to be found.
We keep on hiking to the next campground. No one is there either. Empty campground with smoldering firepits.
At this point I felt a decision had to be made. It was getting dark. We probably had about an hour of sunlight left.
"Whadda think boys? Should we head back to the truck and set up camp there for the night?" I asked.
One friend said, "Yeah. Rock is right.We should head back to the truck and set up camp nearby."
"Come on! Let's keep going!" The Bronco owner yelled from 15 feet in front of us.
So, my buddy and I just looked at each other and followed him down the road. That was my biggest mistake looking back at it now. We should have set up camp. Made a light meal. Got a good night rest. And, the next day head out with full hiking gear, a full stomach, snack food and water.
The 3rd campground came upon us at sunset. Ghost town. Our hopes were dashed, bigtime. Morale was at an all-time low for the expedition.
The same dilemma again. Do we hike back to the truck? Or, try and make it to the "main road" that was just a bit down the way? The main road wasn't really a main road. It was pretty rural in itself.
We decided that since the main road was just around a few more bends of the road, we would continue on. I was starting to get hungry at this point. The night air was getting crisp.
We walked down the road. And then some more. Bend after bend in the road. Luckily, it was all downhill. We finally come across a hiking staging area/parking lot. There was a one man restroom with a cement floor and a nice shingle roof. There was a bullet hole riddled dumpster filled about halfway. A big piece of rolled up carpet stuck out from the top. And a dirt parking lot.
We decided that it we should give up on reaching the main road that night. The parking lot was our camp for the night. My stomach was growling something fierce. I had finished off the M&M's about an hour earlier. The Coca-Cola was gone too. It was starting to get around maybe 50 degrees that evening.
I was determined to make a fire against the side of the dumpster to reflect the heat. Just like I was taught by my father camping in the San Juan Mountains. Just like I read in my Cub Scout manual when I was 9 years old. Having that Bic lighter turned out to be crucial.
I took out my Bucklite and my lighter. I dug out a cardboard box and started making cardboard kindling. We found some dry sticks nearby and I made a pseudo tee pee style/lean to kindling pile against the side of the dumpster. I even reminded my friends of my survival skill brilliance with the reflective heat tactic. The life saving fire was successfully light and we all huddled around it. One friend only had on a t shirt and nothing else. He was shivering pretty bad. In addition, I think he was dehydrated. He started coughing up some ugly looking, white phlegm.
This is where the serpentine terrain really comes into the story. All along the road Clear Creek was really close. It looked so pretty in the alien like ecosystem. But, there were posted warning signs everywhere along the river.
DO NOT DRINK THE WATER!!
Then some small print like, "This area is known to contain asbestos which has been shown to cause......blah..blah....blah".
I kept asking myself what the consequences would be if I drank a few gulps. Would I embed one fiber of asbestos in my body that would bring me down 20 years later? 20 rounds of chemo therapy? Having to say good bye to my mother on my death bed?
"Guys, I don't give a F what the signs say. I'm gonna get a few gulps of water," I proclaimed.
"No no! Don't do it Trent!", they screamed at me, "It's loaded with asbestos!"
So I caved in and didn't drink any water out of the river. This may have been my 2nd biggest mistake.
We huddled around the fire for about an hour. The temp was down to about the low 40's I would estimate. It was an endless battle to keep the fire going with small sticks. One of the guys found a pallet in the dumpster and he pulled it out. We all took it apart with our hands, feet, brute strength, and leveraging it against the parking lot logs. Our small, unproductive fire was gonna become a real campfire for warmth.
The fire was going fine with the pallet wood. We we're getting comfortably warm. The pipe was smoked because we had no food, shelter or water. Pure boredom, I guess. We started laughing at our predicament amongst ourselves. How we should have stayed at the car. The hamburgers we could be eating. The huge fire we would have built. The warm clothes and the bottled water. Hell, I even had 2 more Coors Lights left.
Then disaster struck. The contents of the dumpster started to catch on fire. The campfire has leaked through the bullet holes in the dumpster. Smoke was pouring out of the dumpster. The fire was getting big and it reeked like melted plastic.
Being a Homo Economicus, my mind started racing. "Great, now the U.S. Forest Dept. is gonna give me a bill for $500,000 for starting a forest fire," I thought to myself. How lovely.
We all jumped into action. It took about 45 minutes to put the dumpster fire out. We used the big roll of carpet to sort of tamp it out. It was was pretty scary, thinking you could have started a major forest fire. It was mainly out, but it still was putting out smoke. I think something was still smoldering in the bottom of the dumpster.
After we put out the dumpster fire, we started a new one away from the dumpster. We kept it small and used the pallet wood. It was real cold by now. My buddy with just the t shirt was hating it.
This is where the psychology of survival came into play. I was trippin' at the THOUGHT of having no food. No where to get food, either. I was starving. I really felt for the homeless people. I kept telling myself I was gonna look at how homeless people lived with empathy from that night on. This was only one night without food. I vowed to try my best to never be homeless. Being hungry and cold that night was pure hell. And I couldn't even drink water from the pretty little Clear Creek.
I decided to go in the restroom and try and catch a few hours sleep. The plan was to finally make it to the main road in the morning. I went in the outhouse and laid down on the fairly clean looking cement floor. It was about 10 degrees warmer inside the restroom. However, it reeked like feces and urine.
Do I really want to sleep in a modern day outhouse? This is pretty low. I'm not a huge germ phobic. But, still, sleeping in a sh1#ter? I got this ear worm of Cousin Eddy from Vacation. He's draining the septic tank from his rv and he says, "Sh$%ters full!!". I had the ear worm for like 10 minutes and I decided to stay up until sunrise. If I could just make it through the cold a few more hours I would be OK.
My other 2 friends feel asleep for a few hours. the sun started to come up and it was getting warmer. We had made it through the night. Now all we had to do was make it to the main road and hope someone came by. The dumpster was still billowing smoke from the fire.
***
We took off for the main road in the morning. I was thirsty as hell. The creek with the warning signs led the way to the main road. We passed a closed ranger depot along the way. No one in sight.
Finally, we see a few cars coming down the main road. We try and flag them down, but they keep on going. I figured it's because we looked pretty dirty and scary. 3 big guys with nappy hair and dirt on our faces. I wouldn't have stopped either
A white Ford Escort approaches us. He slows down. Yes! We are saved, we thought. The Ford pulls up along side us. The dude rolls down the window. About 40 years old, balding, sorta George Costanza looking. I instantly noticed he had his hand under his seat. He appears to be clutching something. I know what it is.
So after all we went through, I am gonna get capped by some psycho serial killer. I got an ear worm of Ned Beatty in Deliverance, "Guys, I don't want this getting around." The next ear worm I got was Marcellus from Pulp Fiction, "Imma get medieval on your @$$!"
"Sup fellas?", the dude asks. I also notice a 24 Oz. in a brown paper bag on the passenger seat. Now I'm thinking Jeffery Dahmer.
"We almost rolled down a hill to our deaths and we had to camp at the staging area," my friend stated, "can you give us a ride to a tow station?"
"Man, I don't know. I usually don't pick up strangers. But, hop on in!", he said.
He told us that he had a brand new Cummings diesel dually. It would easily pull the Bronco out. He told us how he lost his job. His wife was nagging up on him. He was out taking a drive to get away from her. He's running low on money.
"Dude, if you tow my Bronco out I'll give you 200 bucks," my friend offered.
The guys SLAMS down the accelerator and screams, "Hell yeah!! I'm bringing home my wife a tri-tip steak and some Heineken tonight!! Man, is she gonna be happy!!"
****
We all pile into his dually. The thing was nice. He kept giving us the specs on the torque and horsepower. He was proud of that dually.
The Cummings drives through the main entrance towards it's target vehicle. Past the ranger depot. All along the pretty Clear Creek. We get close to the smoldering dumpster and my friend's and I glance at each other. The truck slows down to look at the smoking dumpster.
The dude says, "damn, what happened here?"
We all shrugged our shoulders, "No idea, that is weird". He knew what was up. We continued up the road.
We get to the precariously perched Bronco. It turns out we hiked 9 miles. We had estimated that from the truck to the main road was about 2 miles. Our perception of distance was way off. In retrospect, this was another mistake we made.
The guy hooks up a tow rope to the front of the Bronco. My buddy gets in the car. I thought I was gonna witness my friend roll to his death. I was one of the scariest moments of my life. My other thought was that the Bronco might take the dually down the hill with it. The tow rope acting as a tether. It was hit or miss. either the pull is a success. Or, I will witness the deaths of 2 people. Then I have to hike another 9 miles with my buddy. After seeing 2 deaths? I almost couldn't bear to watch the attempt.
"Ok! Start her up!!"
The Bronco 400 c.i. fires up with a roar on the 1st twist of the ignition key. The dually advances forward. The tow rope becomes taunt. This is the moment of truth. My buddy puts his rig in drive and mashes the pedal. The dually does the same.
That Bronco came SO close to rolling. The tires somehow, miraculously, bit into the dirt. It was on the verge of rolling. I can't even describe how close it was to rolling. 3 more degrees angle difference and she would have been lost. Both engines howled, the tow rope looked stressed, and the pull was a complete success.
The Good Samaritan followed us to a Von's store. My friend took out 200 clams from the ATM and gave the guy his reward. He slowly disappeared down the aisle towards the tri-tips on the way to the beer cooler. We ate a lot of food and pounded down bottled water.
My bad knee was toast from that 9 mile hike. It was really sore for a few days. My feet had pseudo jungle rot. My teeth were crusty. The BO was in an advanced stage.
What was my ear worm for the long ride home in the Bronco you all ask? That is easy.
[youtube]aA3inbcb6FQ[/youtube]
