As each day passes and I think of what I might write for blog entries, so many of them it seems might start with the phrase “HOLY CRAP!”
I’m at Glen Canyon NRA (national recreation area) in Utah. I came here to camp in my RV for a couple or three days because, I wanted to get my fridge serviced, there are some things in the area I want to see such as slot canyons like Antelope or Wire Canyon, and a curlicue in the Colorado river (I assume it’s the Colorado) called Horseshoe Bend. That, and it’s on my way to the famous national parks of Utah such as Bryce, Zion, Canyonlands and Monument Valley. I’d be less that truthful if I didn’t say the economic appeal of $5 per night camping didn’t play a roll in coming here. That’s the discounted rate if you have one of several passes such as the interagency senior pass I have.
After arriving at the Lone Rock Beach area within the NRA and paying my entry fee to an automated kiosk that took some cypherin’ to figure out (not sure if I every really did but it issued me a sticker for my window all the same) I headed down toward the beach where I saw a number of other RVers apparently enjoying the warm, summer like spring day by the waterfront. Now this is where the holy crap begins to fly. At the end of the dirt road leading in, the camping area spreads out into a wide field, if you can call gravel and sand a field. Heading for a gravelly spot that looked level and firm I saw I’d have to pass through a sandy patch to get there. Seeing other RVs on the other side of the sandy patch I figured it was passable. WRONG! About halfway through the sand became too deep for my RV and I was hopelessly, irrevocably, intractably stuck. Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck! HOLY CRAP! See what I mean?
After about 30 minutes of attempting to dig my way out by placing various manner of things under the rear wheels to gain some traction, only to find myself digging a deeper and deeper hole each
time I stepped on the gas–all the while sweltering away in the hot sun on my hands and knees in the sand with the wind whipping it around into my eyes and ears, my nose… my shoes filling up with sand and sweat pouring off my forehead and running into my eyes making them burn–I gave up and called CoachNet, the “we’ll save your ass” roadside assistance program I belong to. They promised to call around for a towing service in the area to come to my rescue, but since I was more than 100′ from solid ground where a wrecker could safely park it wasn’t covered under my policy and it would be “very expensive” to get rescued. HOLY CRAP!
While waiting for CoachNet to call me back with the good tidings that they’d found a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue, I continued my efforts to dig my way out. I made one last effort to place blocks and boards behind my rear wheels in order to back my way out of the sandy mire. No good. HOLY CRAP! I tried one more attempt at plodding forward, keeping my foot firmly down on the accelerator, and what do you know… inch by inch, at half a snail’s pace my RV moved forward until I was free from the sandy morass. HOLY CRAP! I called CoachNet to say I’d saved myself, thank you very much.
Having landed on the nice gravelly patch I’d so amorously eyed prior to my Saharan-like misadventure, I leveled the RV, popped out the slide, and made myself one of my famous green smoothies for lunch. I opened the windows, the door and roof vents and reveled in the warm but pleasant breeze that swirled around me and through the RV. In a little while, however, I noticed everything inside the RV was becoming covered with sand carried in by the brisk winds. HOLY CRAP!
I decided to move my RV to a nearby spot which was not so near loose sand that could be so easily blown inside, and also to turn the tail of the vehicle toward the wind which I thought would mitigate to some degree the infiltration of the substance we so enjoy spreading our towels upon at the beach, but so do not enjoy having to clean out of our cars, shoes and homes.
I spent the next while, maybe 30 minutes or so walking around the area looking for a better spot to park, and just as importantly, a way to get there as apparently there were other “sand traps such as the one to which I’d fallen prey. It came as some relief to the “gee I’m such a dumbass for having gotten stuck in the sand” mood I’d fallen into that during this walk I helped push and guide the no fewer than three other hapless souls and their vehicles who’d fallen victim to similar sandy fates. There was no way around it: getting off my little gravelly perch where I’d been so happily sandblasted required… you guessed it, another trip through the RV sand trap from hell. HOLY CRAP! This time I picked a slightly firmer route and got up a good head of steam before plowing into the deepest area and fortunately I had enough momentum to make it through, barely.
It’s still hot and windy, and there is sand blowing about, but I’m better situated with less sand blowing my way and it’s coming more from the rear than the side. Nevertheless, the widows are CLOSED! and I’m keeping the heat at bay by running the A/C and the generator to produce the electricity it requires. This creates an other-worldly cacophonous drone which is not particularly pleasant. Hopefully the winds will abate and the temperature subside, and I won’t find any more reasons this day to say HOLY CRAP!
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