Stuck in Genetics Part 2

Stuck in Genetics part 2

When I last left you I was climbing out of Little Fiddler Flat in the dark.  I finally made it where I could actually see where I was going.  By the time I made it home, I was a few hours late.  I always told Hedda approximately where I was going so she would know where to send the rescue team.  I also told her that when I was elk hunting that if I got one late in the day I would spend the night and not to send help until the next day.  I was surprised when she greeted me with “Where were you?  We were looking for you?”  “Who’s we and why were you looking for me?”

It seems that my dad took bad sick while visiting my brother in Arkansas.  My friend Bill and Hedda went where I told them I would be, but I wasn’t there.  I was way farther in than I said I would be.  In fact I was way farther in than I should have been.  They gave up looking for me.  I called Paul and found out that things didn’t look good for Dad.  The next morning we got the devastating news that he had died. 

Somehow I have the feeling that he was watching me and all my problems.  I bet he was laughing and saying, “You needed just a little more momentum!”

A few years later Steve Jr. and I went back down the same road, but this time we were on mountain bikes.  When we got to the really bad spot, Steve kept going at his naturally crazy speed.  I stopped and waited.  Pretty soon I heard him yell “Don’t try to ride this!!”  I was smiling as I walked my bike down.  Apparently he had a little too much momentum and his bike stopped in the washout, but he kept going.  After a fun day of riding trails and finding an alternate way out, I decided I would never try that trail again on anything with wheels.

 The winch on Jimmy really came in handy.  One day we took a ride through the almost snowless mountains near Prairie, Idaho.  There was so little snow that we thought we could make the complete loop and come out at Black’s Creek.  It was late afternoon when we crossed the river and headed up the slope out of the canyon.  That side of the mountain didn’t get as much sun and there was a lot more snow.  We followed some tracks and were actually driving on top of the snow crust until we came to the spot where whatever made those tracks broke through the crust.  The rest of the trip consisted of run the winch out to a tree or fence post, winch her forward, then do it again.  The winch was burning hot.  The sun had set quite awhile ago.  The boys and I were tired from wading through the deep snow to find an anchor point and Hedda was getting nervous.  We took a break and made some hot chocolate and chili on the camp stove before it was back to work.  By the time we got out and went to the rest stop where we could put on some dry clothes and call Chris’s mom, it was after midnight.  The boys and I thought it was quite an adventure.  Hedda and Lisa weren’t as impressed.

“Old Blue” was a 1964 ¾ ton 2wd pick-up that took me places 2wd trucks should not go.  We knew of a swimming hole in the San Bernardino mountains that was down a trail that the Forest Service had marked as “hazardous – 4wd vehicles only”.  Of course I had to see how bad it was.  We found that if we went to the bottom of the canyon and loaded a bunch of rocks in “Old Blue” it would give us enough traction to get back up the hill.  We used the rocks to build a barbecue in my friends back yard.

One time a buddy and I were on top of a ridge and saw what must be a short cut down to the desert below.  We figured that “Old Blue” was up to the task and we followed the trail down the mountain.  Later we guessed that it wasn’t really a trail.  Someone had probably pushed an old car or truck off just to see it fall.  We made it safely to the bottom.  There were a couple of times when we kind of lost confidence in “Old Blue”.  We held the doors open and were ready to jump if I lost control.  Now “Old Blue” was old.  The starter had given out so we had to push start it.  The gas gauge didn’t work.  A friend said that “Old Blue” had good vibes.  I told her that was probably the worn out king pins.  We were so excited about living through our latest adventure that we were a little over confident as we headed out through the washes and dry creek beds.  Oops! We got hung up on a particularly steep exit from a wash. Probably not enough momentum.  No real problem.  We just had to jack up the back end and put some stuff under the wheels.  As we were working we couldn’t turn off the truck as it didn’t have a starter.  I noticed a change in the idle of the engine.  It started running a lot smoother.  I told my buddy that I think my carburetor was set to rich.  He asked “What makes you say that?” “I think we are out of gas.”  About that time the engine died and we had a ten mile walk to get help.

The Mohave River spends most of the year under ground.  Sometimes in heavy rains it will run above ground.  The road between Apple Valley and Hesperia, California crosses the river.  There is no bridge the road just drops down and crosses to the other bank.  There is a culvert under the road that allows a small water flow.  If the weather combines melting snow and rain the river turns into a torrent and runs over the road.  We crossed the road in the morning and there was about a foot of water across the road.  That afternoon on our way back, I figured it was better to take the long way around and not risk the crossing.  It was a good idea!  This picture shows the worst stuck ever.  The two guys who were in this pick-up tried to cross a few hours after we did.  The river had washed out all the sand out from under the pavement and it collapsed.  Both guys got out ok, they were just wet and without a truck.  I don’t think momentum would have helped.

River crossings can be fun.  We were on a sight seeing trip in Iceland to look at glaciers.  We had family from Holland with and we wanted to show them a good time.  We were following a gravel road that skirted a glacier.  There was river crossing.  We watched an Icelandic Bronco in front of us who went through the cold deep water with no problem, so we tried it.  My Blazer was doing fine but then the engine died. I laid on the horn and the Icelandic Bronco came to our rescue.  The water was deep enough that with the strong current it was coming in the passenger side door.  I crawled out of my window and out on the hood.  The rescuer threw me a rope.  I had to lean over into the water (did I mention that this was glacier run off?  The water was COLD!) to reach the tow hooks under the bumper.  The Bronco pulled us out and asked if we needed any more help.  We thanked them and sent them on their way.  I found that the air intake hose ran to the front of the grille and had sucked in enough water to stall the engine.  We pulled the spark plugs and cranked the engine until it quit spitting water.  We dried and WD-40’d the distributer cap and wires, cleaned the plugs, reinstalled them and we were on our way.  I took the air intake hose and routed it so it was to the back of the engine and high enough to keep it out of the water.  We continued our trip and had a great time.  On our way back out everybody was a little concerned about the river crossing.  My modifications worked and we made a successful escape.  Our plan to give Hedda’s relatives a memorable trip worked.  They always talk about getting stuck in the river when we get together.

It will be fun to watch our grand kids and see if any of them carry on the tradition.  My bet is on Derek.

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