30-March-2008

First Time in Forty Years

     I apologize for the lousy pictures.
     My digital camera is on the fritz.




I saw so many perfectly lit scenes to take pictures of on the way home.  A storm was coming in and the big, dark clouds were playing light and dark games across hills in very enticing ways.  My camera was at home.

I drove straight home, hitting both lights green.  I changed clothes, added some sweaters to Ruby's already layered wardrobe, grabbed a warm coat for myself, invited Bobby Sue to ride along, put new batteries in the camera, and headed up to the relay station on the big mountain behind Allan and Becky's place.

We made it before dark and I got a few pictures of generous rays of sun beaming through breaches in the dark clouds despite the forty-five mile per hour winds at the top of the hill.  And, geez, was it cold!  When the weatherman here calls for an "Arctic chill," he gets it.

The ground pitched downhill away from the truck on that side and the wind was behind us.  The truck sits high, and Bobby is short.  In typical Bobby Style, none of this was taken into account as he opened the door.

The powerful wind occupied the opening door like a gale in a main sail and yanked Bobby clean out of the truck.  He's somehow managed to grab the top of the door on his way out and was now dangling about ten inches above the ground.  You should've seen his eyes — big as salad plates.  The most obvious things catch him by surprise and it's always entertaining.  It took everything he had to close the truck door. 

With both doors open, I was concerned for a moment that Ruby might be blown out as well.  She had the good sense to hug the seat and stay low.  Ruby prefers to avoid wind whenever possible.  Ruby was not the least bit interested in getting out of the truck.  She'd seen what happened to Bobby — and he's MUCH bigger than she is.  She'd have been a kite.

I couldn't operate the small digital camera with gloves on.  I took them off and my fingers soon turned blue.  I got back in the truck after only a few minutes, and this picture.

                      
See?  It was so cold it turned the picture blue!  The sun is shining on Stagecoach.


We drove to the other side of the top of the hill for a view of the river and mountains to the south, towards Yerrington.  There wouldn't be any good sunset pictures tonight.  I was disappointed, but still exhilarated by the wind and the weather, and the fact that it was Friday night.  TGIF!

It would be dark before long, so we decided to head back.  Not far from the summit is a service road that runs alongside a telephone pole line.  I've often wondered where that road leads and what's down there.  I decided to find out.

Off we went, "rock hopping" in a two-wheeler.  That is to say, although my 1986 Ford F-250 sits quite high off the ground, it is not four-wheel drive.  The four-sixty under the hood won't help that much, either.  The first part of the road was quite rocky, but manageable.  It looked better ahead so we went on.

I'm not sure how far the road was "manageable" because we were busy sightseeing and making jokes.  We continued beyond more than a couple places that required first gear and careful maneuvering, but it still seemed passable and I was still having fun.  A sliver of sun was still above the mountainous horizon, so we went on.

There were several mounds of horse manure and lots of tracks scattered all along this gently sloping area of the hillside.  It looked like a good place for afternoon naps.  We looked, but didn't spot any wild horses.  They had sense enough to be on the lee side of a hill, out of the wind.  There were several good flat rocks near the roadway; candidates for creating a nice rock patio around my back steps.  We didn't collect any, but I made a mental note for future reference.

It wasn't dark yet, but sunset had just come and gone.  We were pushing it, but went on anyway.  After negotiating an especially tight turn and some sizeable rocks, I suddenly realized that I could not see the next telephone pole.  To our right and just ahead was the one nearest us, but the next one in line wasn't visible.

"Where the hell is the next telephone pole?  The line doesn't look like it ends here.  Why would it end here?  It doesn't just end here.  Where the hell is the next pole?!"

It was time to take stock of where we were.  I knew we were nearing the side of the hill that dropped off towards Ft. Churchill Road and the river, but wasn't expecting a cliff.  There are very few real cliffs around here.  Besides, I've been on Ft. Churchill Road and seen the other side of this hill, it's not a cliff.  We cautiously pressed on.

Twenty yards further and we discovered why we couldn't see the next utility pole.  The hillside dropped off so abruptly that it was well below our line of sight.  This made for a new consideration:  A place to turn around.  The road made a sharp turn and sort of flattened out in another ten yards or so.  From there you could see that it was safe to proceed another couple of turns down the hill before it got really steep.  Of course we went on.

From the next turn we could see Ft. Churchill road, the lights of Dayton and Virginia City.  Quite the good spot for a nice evening view.   The wind had died down considerably after sunset and we were now on the lee side of the hill.  It was still quite cold, but much more tolerable.

The road made a sharp turn just ahead, then began a steep decline into a series of switchbacks down the rock-riddled ravine.  It was a very rocky ravine.  A rocky ravine is probably worse than a cliff.  You know for sure you can't drive down a cliff.  With a rocky ravine, it's not as obvious.

"We'll just go to that first sharp turn and see how it looks below there.  Heck, we're at least eighty-five percent there.  Ft. Churchill road is right down there.  I'd hate to go all the way back on this rocky road when we're almost there.  Once we get to Ft. Churchill road, we can go on into Dayton and hit the Jack in the Box for a couple tacos," I said with confidence.

Bobby wasn't quite buying it.  "I don't know.  It looks pretty steep.  This is far enough.  I don't care if we have to go back over the same rocks."

"Well, there's a spot to turn around at that first turn.  We'll just go that far, then I'll turn around if it looks like we can't go any farther."  We went on, to that first turn.

Half way between that first turn and the next turn was another clearing that looked like a good place to turn around, if need be.  "See?  We're ok, there's another place we can turn around right there.  But, I can't see what's beyond the next turn.  It looks pretty steep beyond that."

We sat there for a few minutes, weighing our options.  To go on, or not to go on.  That was the question.  It was very steep.  It was very rocky.  It was after dark and hard to see what might lie ahead.  What if the rocks became too much even for my high truck?  What if the winter had washed away part of the road?  What if the road became too narrow for the truck?  Nah, at some point they had a power company utility truck up here.  Yeah, but there haven't been many good places to turn around up to this point, and here were two in close proximity.  Was it a sign, or coincidence?

We went on, but only a half truck length beyond the second turn around spot.  I could see enough from there.  The road beyond was like the invisible telephone poles.  It fell off, below the headlights' beam, and I couldn't tell for sure that there was even a road in all those rocks.  I'd finally had enough.  It had been fun, but the fun was done.  Time to call it an evening and head back.

I backed up.  Well, I tried to back up.  I had every intention of backing up.  The truck was in reverse and the tires were spinning, but the road was steep and, oddly, the ground beneath, I was horrified to discover, was soft.  I gunned it a little, the tires spun faster and the dirt started flying.  Rats.  I'm quite sure it was the only soft dirt for miles in any direction.  And when I find the SOB who put soft dirt right there, I'm going to kick his ass with a pair of steel-toed boots.

Damn!  Now what?  We got out and surveyed the immediate area.  We heaved most of the larger rocks out of the way and kicked several others on general principals.  How did this soft dirt get here?!  It's all rocks!  It's not sand, it's just soft dirt.  What's wrong with this picture?  We were just having a little fun.  It ain't supposed to end up like this.  Damn.

Much serious consideration and several bad puns later, I devised a plan.  I'd paced the distance and found it adequate; more than adequate.  It's simple.  All I had to do was aim the truck uphill in the quasi-clearing we'd created, go as far up into the cleared area as I could, then crank the wheels hard to the right and let the truck roll back onto the road.  We'd be turned around and heading back.  Piece of cake.

And that's exactly what I planned to do when I climbed up in the cab.  I asked Bobby to stand in the roadway behind the truck and keep a tight eye on where the rear tires went so I'd not back too far towards the edge.  Ok, well, not an 'edge' exactly, it was more like a shelf.  There was a 'shelf' just downhill, and off the edge of the road I'd be aiming for.  If the rear tires went off the road and down onto the shelf, the truck would probably end up resting on the rear axle.  High as the truck is, the slant of the hill was greater.  We definitely did not want to get too near that area at the edge of the road. 

I explained the plan in great detail so Bobby would have a clear picture of what I wanted to do.  I motioned with my hands and arms to make it as clear as possible.  As he nodded in acknowledgement, the earlier image of his abrupt extraction from the truck suddenly came to mind.  I sincerely hoped Bobby could perform this minor but vital task more competently.

Ok, this is it.  Here we go.  I dropped Lola into first gear and gave her a little gas.  We started up the hill.  Excellent! This is good!  I like it.  But, the hill was steep and the truck was at a hard angle; I gave her a little more gas and tried to climb the three or four more feet we needed to gain.  It was only a few feet. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was.  The dirt right there was soft as well.  There seemed to be an epidemic of soft dirt.  It was, in fact, just soft enough to fly out from the spinning wheels in every direction, then give way beneath them just enough to allow the rear axle to slide down the hill and away from the path of vindication.  The truck had fallen completely out of line for the maneuver I'd planned.

Another round of up close and personal scrutiny was required.  Many more rocks were heaved or kicked and dark puns hinted of impending doom.  Bobby was quite frightened.  There wasn't enough light to certain, but I guessed his face was pale.  He wasn't saying much.

It still appeared that, if I moved the truck up and back a few times and cranked the wheel each time, I could eventually gain a favorable position and still complete the original plan for turning around.  We're still able to move some, might as well try it.

I gave it another go.  I wasn't able to gain as much ground going uphill as that first run, but was able to put a pretty good crank on it when I let her roll back a ways.  Up again, and back again. I checked with Bobby and asked if I was making any progress before each attempt.  He assured me I was, but his face read differently.

I'd have gotten out and checked for myself before every attempt, but with the ground falling away on my side of the truck, it was very difficult to climb back in.  I'd tried it once.  The floor of the cab was so high up I could barely reach the steering wheel and the back of the seat to pull myself up.  My bad knees prevent any attempts at jumping; best I stay in the cab.

After one particular attempt, I heard Bobby yelling to stop.  "Stop!  Stop!  You're going off the cliff!"  I instantly hit the brakes. I was sure he was overreacting, as usual.  I got out to see what the fuss was.  He was, kinda.  The left rear tire was only a couple inches from a big rock.  The other side, the downhill side, of that rock is where the 'shelf' began.  When I walked back there, I realized that this very significant rock was only partially buried in even more soft dirt.

Damn.  This was not good.  Not good at all.  The truck was completely out of position for turning around, the dirt was too soft to get enough traction to climb the hill, and, now, the downhill rear tire was precariously positioned.   What to do?  What to do?  Damn.

Standing out in the cold wasn't going to be productive, so we got back in the truck to mull it over.  Sadly, more bad puns.  I don't recall what Bobby was saying, but I suddenly realized just how scared he was.  He seemed convinced that the truck was going to fall over backwards and we'd be killed.  Even if I'd backed off the road and onto the 'shelf,' the truck was in no danger of falling over backwards or rolling down the hill.

Even so, Bobby was quite scared.  I didn't have much patience for his crap at that point.  I finally told him that if he really was scared enough to piss or shit his pants, he'd damn well better do it outside because I didn't want either on my seats!  That jarred him enough to slow him down some.  He got real quiet, then I felt bad for jammin' him up like that.

"Do you really think we're going to roll down this hill and die?!"
"Well…." he ventured doubtfully, as his eyes rolled widely in the direction of the now darkened and nearly invisible hillside that fell away to the rear and below us.
"Do you believe in Heaven?"
"Yeah.  Yeah, I believe in Heaven."
"Well don't you think Heaven is bigger than that teeny, tiny, sixteen foot trailer you live in?!"
"Yeah!  I KNOW it's bigger.  Heaven is HUGE!"
"Well, what the hell are you worried about then?  You should be hoping we roll over and die!"

We checked the glove box.  There was no flashlight in it.  The small one in my purse had dead batteries.  It was very dark and the moon was not out yet.  There wasn't going to be much of a moon anyway.  We began to discuss our options and who would walk out for help.  Should we go towards Dayton, or back the way we'd come?  Hmm….

Traction!  We just need some traction!  We ventured outside again.  We used our hands to scoop dirt into and out of various places around the rear tires.  We found a variety of suitable rocks and placed them just under and in front of the rear tires.  We moved two much bigger rocks behind the tires as a precaution.  Ah, good!  This would work, or it would certainly help.  It had to.

Why hadn't we thought of this before?  It was so obvious.  Surely we'd have better luck this time.  Bobby assumed the position and I concentrated on acceleration and angles.  I gave Lola a little gas.  The tires grabbed the rocks and the truck moved forward, just a little.  I pressed on the pedal a tiny bit more and felt her move in the right direction again.  Fifteen seconds later, the rocks were buried in soft dirt and forward progression ceased.  We tried the "rocks for traction" routine a couple more times, with the same results.  The truck was still too far out of position and only one rear tire was grabbing anything.  We got back in the truck to warm up and mull it over again.

Wait!  I have a cell phone with me!  Yeah, but are we in a dead zone,  the area is riddled with them, or will I get a signal?  I dug it out of my purse and turned it on.  The screen blinked, the icon displayed, and the phone came alive.  I had a signal!  Now who can we call?  Allan and Becky were my first thought, but I knew Becky had gone to California for a visit with her dear, ailing grandmother for the weekend.  Would Allan be home, or out hunting with his buddies?

I keyed in their number and pressed send.  Our luck was holding; he was home.  He'd just sat down to dinner.  I described our situation and where we were, and Allan tried not to laugh too much.  He knew exactly where we were.  It's right in his backyard after all, and he's been there himself.  When they first moved to Silver Springs a few years back, he drove the same road in Becky's old half-ton Dodge truck.  He's also been on it in an ATV.  Yeah, he knew e-x-a-c-t-l-y where we were.  His version was much funnier.

                       
And this, this is the innocent looking beginning of the road where it all began.  Look closely and you'll see the telephone poles.  We followed them to the right from here.


He said he'd finish dinner then hop in the Jeep to come get us.  I expressed concern that the hill was too steep and the truck was too heavy for the Jeep.  Unless he had a winch with a very long cable that could reach us from the top of the hill, I didn't see how it was possible.  But, he had faith that the Jeep would be more than adequate for our rescue.

I had my doubts, but what the heck.  If nothing else, we'd have a ride back home and not have to spend the night in a cold truck.  Did I mention that the heater in the truck doesn't work?  Yeah, the heater core went out last winter and leaked all over inside the cab.  A concerned friend moved the hoses to bypass the heater until I can afford to get it fixed.  It hasn't been a priority.

We relaxed and enjoyed the starry sky while we waited for Allan.  The whole adventure was still pretty special.  We went somewhere new, saw some new vistas, had a little excitement, and now had a sky full of stars to gaze at.  And what was that dead center at the top of the windshield?  The Big Dipper.  Upside down, but it was the Big Dipper.  It was a good night for stargazing.

My phone rang.  It was Allan, "Can you see my headlights yet?"
"Not yet.  How'd you get here so fast?  It's only been an hour!"
"Yeah, well, let me know when you see my headlights."
"Why?  I thought you knew right where we are."
"I just wanna know when you see my headlights."
"OK.  I'll flash mine when we see yours."

Five minutes later we could see the Jeep's headlights jumping up and down over rocks just beyond the ridge above us.  It could only be Allan, and it was.  I blinked our lights a couple times.  Bobby was so relieved he just started laughing, "We're saved!"  We both laughed.

Allan stopped the Jeep at the top of the hill, by the last visible telephone pole.  He looked down at us, shook his head and took in the terrain.  Then he drove the remaining distance until he was right in front of the truck.

I got out and walked around the truck with him, pointing our failed attempts and the drop off behind the truck.  We discussed the options and how we'd go about the extraction process.  I moved a few more rocks and used the shovel Allan brought to rearrange the dirt around my rear wheels.  Allan dragged two heavy-duty tow chains out of the back of the Jeep.  Allan attached the chains to each other, then to the two vehicles while I held the light for him.  He got into the Jeep and I hauled myself back up into the truck.

I watched Allen ease the Jeep forward and slowly take slack out of the chain with my parking brake off, my left foot on the brake pedal, transmission in low gear, and my right foot on the gas pedal.  The chain became taught and Allan hollered, "Ready?"  "OK," I yelled back."  And the Jeep began to move forward.  When I felt the chain tug, I gave let off the brake pedal and gave Lola some gas.  We inched forward, a little more onto the roadway and a little less jackknifed across it.  Progress!

That's exactly when the Jeep dug into the soft dirt.  From behind, it was hilarious.  We watched dirt and small rocks fly out behind the Jeep as the rear wheels sank into a hole that brought the underside of the Jeep down to road level in a matter of seconds.  Allan unhooked the chain from the truck and got back into the Jeep.

I've never seen anyone get a Jeep out of a hole like that before.  It was even funnier watching Allan rock the Jeep back and forth trying to extricate it from its temporary, half-subterranean, self-imposed, parking spot.  It rocked and hopped in fits and starts until it popped right up out of the hole and jumped forward onto the road.  He quickly repositioned it on the hillside above the truck.

I got out again and we discussed whether moving the chain to the opposite side of the axles would give us anymore leverage or benefit due to the changed angle.  It wasn't clear that it would, so we just put it back on and prepared to try again.

I had my doubts that the Jeep's new position would help.  It seemed like too steep a place to try to pull out something, especially something  bigger.  Plus, there wasn't much room in front of the Jeep to drive even if it was able to climb the hill while pulling the heavier truck behind it.  But, Allan wanted to try it from there, so we did.  It took longer for the rear axle of the Jeep to disappear this time, but it did.  The hoppity extraction was just as funny to watch a second time.

Allan drove the Jeep forward in a semi-circle and over every rock he could find before taking it back down to the roadway in front of the truck.  We filled the previous holes with rocks and dirt so when the truck got to them, it wouldn't fall into them.  Allan reconnected the chains and we gave it another try.  No results, just more soft dirt.

He broke out the come-along.  With a little gas and the come-along, the truck was able to move forward about six or eight inches.  It was slow, but it was progress.  That worked well enough to try cranking the wheels of the truck around again.  We maneuvered into ever so slightly better a position when it rolled back.

Twice more we gained inches of position before the handle of the come-along broke off.  It had bent after the second try, but Allan thought he'd found a way to limp it along.  Now what?  We gave it one last good try with the Jeep and chains, but it was no use.  The hill was too steep right there, the dirt too soft, and the truck too heavy.

"Know anyone else who might have a vehicle that could help?"
"Dan.  Dan's truck would get you out of here."
"Suppose he's home right now?  Would he come out here tonight?"
"I don't know.  He goes to bed early, it's after nine, he's probably asleep.  Besides, he turns the phone off when he goes to bed and usually leaves his cell in the car."  Allan gave him a ring anyway.  There was no answer and no answering machine.  He called Dan's cell and left a message there.  Then he remembered that Dan planned to go to the gun show in Reno for most of the next day.

There was nothing left to do but cram ourselves, our stuff, and Ruby into the tiny, two-seater Jeep and go home.  And that's what we did.  A spare tire took up all the space behind the seats and there were no doors on the Jeep.  I put Jake's bucket of beet pulp behind the driver's seat, my purse behind the passenger seat, half a bag of alfalfa cubes between the bucket seats, and Ruby's foam dog bed folded in half on top of the cubes.  Now all we had to do was get in.

Allan got right back into the driver's seat and Bobby climbed in and scooted around until he found a way to perch on top of the dog bed and cubes.  He had to hang onto the roll bar with one hand and the dashboard handle with the other to keep from falling off.  It wasn't easy getting into that tiny Jeep; my knees just don't bend well enough.  It took a few minutes, but I made it.  I had one arm around Ruby and hung onto the dashboard handle with the other.  Off we went, leaving Lola locked and alone on the side of the hill for the night.

It was a much bumpier ride in the Jeep than we'd had in the big truck.  We were bounced off the seat several times.  Somehow I managed not to drop Ruby.  I also managed not to fall out the door.  We laughed most of the way back.  It's a good way to relieve tension even when, really, nothing's funny.

I asked Allan how he was going to spin this story later when he retold it.  

"That's simple," he said quickly.  "I'll just say another 'lowlander' in a two wheel drive got themselves stuck somewhere they had no business going."
"No mention of the woman driver?
"Oh yeah, that's right.  I stand corrected.  I'll say a girl and a half got stuck somewhere they had no business going in a two wheel drive."

** Bobby Sue has "issues."  He takes Premarin and wears a bra.  Draw your own conclusions.

Allan stopped by Jake's corral so I could drop off his long overdue dinner and refill his water barrel for the next day.  Then he dropped us off at my house.  We made plans to retrieve my truck the next day.  The Big Plan was to borrow his good friend Dan's truck, a big four-wheel drive Jimmy with big tires and a winch.  The winch would be just the ticket.  It was a good plan, if he could get hold of Dan.

I woke up early, got dressed and had a little breakfast.  When Allan hadn't called by eight-thirty, I called him.  Dan was already in Reno for the gun show by 6 a.m., but told Allan he could borrow the Jimmy.  Allan was already obligated to help Becky's sister move her larger pieces of furniture to a new residence in Carson City around ten that morning, so we'd have to deal with the truck after he moved furniture.

Allan was back in Silver Springs around noon.  He picked me up after getting the Jimmy from Dan's place.  Dan was disappointed that he'd miss all the excitement because he was still at the gun show.  We drove across the highway to Allan's house and picked up his other good friend, Jeff, Jeff's thirteen-year old daughter, Jackie, and Ty, Allan's twelve-year old son.

              
                                   
                                                                Jackie and Ty in the back seat of the Jimmy.        

I was the lucky one.  I got to ride in the front with Allan.  The rear seat is right over the rear axle.  That positioning, and the short wheel base, provides passengers with a very rough and bumpy ride.  Needless to say, Allan took advantage of it and tossed them around back there like popcorn just for the fun of it.  I don't think anyone hit their head on the roof, but they were all over that back seat.  When we turned off onto the rocky utility road, Allan slowed down and took it easy on them.

We were only about one-third of the way there when Jeff started asking where in the hell my truck was and what the hell I was doing way out here in a two-wheel drive.  Clearly, he was not having as much fun back there as the kids.  It was, however, still funny from the front seat.  Oh, and we also learned that Jeff, the cranky, angry, self-professed woman hater, is engaged!  She must be one helluva of a woman because she got him to grow hair on his head instead of keeping it buzzed off.  Good for her!  I had no idea he was so good looking until I saw him with hair on his head.  They've set an August date.  Wonders never cease.  Hoo-Ahh for them, and best wishes.

I asked Allan to stop at the top of the hill so I could take a picture looking down from the last visible telephone pole to the truck.  I didn't get out of the Jimmy, but managed to snap a couple before Jeff asked what the hell I needed pictures of it for.

                    
 There's Lola, one short hairpin turn below us.  You can almost see the road!   

"This is going to be an illustrated story," I said.
"Oh brother!  Can't we just get down there and get the truck out?  This is my day off, I'm not supposed to work today."  We drove on.

            
              
This is the view looking out the back of my truck.  Again, you can almost see the road.  The rope is what I tie Jake to while I saddle him up.  The white fabric was covering the bed throughout the winter to help prevent rust, from snow, in the bed.  The pic below is of the rocks below the 'shelf'  that was just below the roadway.  That telephone pole is the next one after the "last visible pole" at the top of the hill -- which is uphill, to the left, and out of the pic.
      
            


Allan positioned the Jimmy on the road in front of my truck, but out of the Jeep's ruts.  I cleared more rocks and unlocked the truck while Allan and Jeff dragged out the chains.  Everyone walked around, getting a good look at the situation.  I went up the hill as far as my knees allowed for another picture.  None of the pictures came out well or truly illustrate the dilemma.  My camera chose that day particular to go haywire.  Oh well.

              
        Jeff on the left and Allan on the right, prepping the winch.


The tow chains were pulled tight, I let off the brake and gave it a little gas.  Allan gunned the Jimmy and tried to back up the hill.  The dirt only flew for a few brief seconds before both Allan and Jeff peeled out of the Jimmy and put the front wheels into four-wheel drive.  They climbed back in and Allan tried again.  Both the Jimmy and my Ford moved a few inches before all four wheels of the Jimmy began to sink into the soft dirt beneath it.  This soft dirt story is really getting old.  Nobody is laughing now.

The chains were unfastened again.  Allan backed the Jimmy halfway to the small turn out spot at the next turn uphill from where we were.  He and Jeff unwrapped the winch.  We were finally getting serious.  The truck started moving.  The winch had done the trick.  It was relatively slow progress, but any measurable progress was welcome.

            
                          Allan's readying the winch for a second try.

The first winch pull put Lola back, fully onto the roadway.  The guys unhooked the winch and I tried to drive, in low gear, up the hill unassisted.  I was only able to move about three or four feet forward before hitting soft dirt again and losing traction.

Here comes the winch again.  I'm loving this whole winch thing.  I really gotta get one.  I don't much care for getting stuck like this.  It's embarrassing.  Even if it is the very first time in over forty years of driving motorcycles, cars, semi trucks, and trucks with horse trailers that I've ever been stuck anywhere.  Put a heavy duty winch with about a thousand feet of line on my wish list.

Lola was on the roadway, but we still weren't out of it.  Jeff guided the winch cable as it wound back onto the reel.  Once it was taut again, the trusty winch pulled Lola beyond the Jeep's ruts and almost to that last turn uphill.  But now, I didn't have enough room or firm enough ground to get a run at the last turn up the hill.  They unhooked the winch, I let the truck roll back a little then tried again, but got nowhere.

Allan drove the Jimmy half way to the next uphill turn, the one with the last visible telephone pole.  Ms. Lola was wenched half way up, then the guys chose to put the tow chains back on and just pull my truck the rest of the way up the hill.  So, up the hill and around the last imposing bend we went before getting unhitched to go it alone.

              
Jeff is adjusting the chains for a the final pull up the hill. The last visible telephone pole is ahead, on the right (not visible in pic).

The sun was shining, the breeze was light, Lola was on her way back home, the boys had something new to talk about, and all was well with our immediate world.  I followed them back to the main road then stopped to get some pictures of the innocent looking utility road that deceived me into following it.  An illustrated story, remember?

        
How sweet.  They're coming back to check on me!

I'm not sure how far down the road Allan, Jeff, Jackie and Ty got before they realized I wasn't following them anymore, but they promptly came back to check on me.  I'd mentioned that I wanted to take some more pictures before going home, but it must've gotten lost in all the excitement and soft dirt.  I assured them that I was fine and they headed back down the hill to home.  There was a barbecue and several bottles of beer in their future; no time for sightseeing.

      
                                   She's fine.  Let's go home.

I was parked right in the middle of the road, taking pictures when I saw three ATV's coming up the road towards me.  I started up the truck and pulled to the side so they could go by.  As they got closer, I could see they were adults, not kids.

The leader stopped to chat a moment.  "Wow!  I've been up here dozens of times, but never seen such a traffic jam!  What the heck is going on up here today?"  He was a handsome man with white hair, a white mustache and beard, and a nice, big smile.  He sort of had an East Coast Kenny Rogers thing goin' on.

"Oh, that was my cousin and his friend.  They towed my truck out.  I gut stuck up here last night."  Somehow, it wasn't as embarrassing telling this handsome stranger.

"Oh.  Where did you get stuck?  I hate to think about anyone being stuck up here."  I pointed to the area right behind him and explained where I'd been.

The handsome stranger also knew the exact spot where I'd found soft dirt.  (And, now, I was among this seeming majority who know about the soft dirt.)  He knew about the soft dirt, but had not been stranded there.  He'd been there, safely, on his ATV.  I commented that I'd ridden most of the area, not mentioning that I'd never actually ridden this far up the hill, but had never found any soft dirt before.

"Oh?  You ride your horse up here?"
"Yes," I quickly and hopefully replied.  "Do you ride horses up here, too?"
"Oh, no, I don't have a horse.  I like them, but don't have one.  But I'm always glad to see a nice looking lady on a horse."  However vague, this sounds promising, I thought.

The handsome stranger went on to explain that the two ATV riders behind him were relatives visiting from out of town, and he wanted to show them the view from the top of the relay tower mountain.  We both said it was nice chatting and they were on their way. 

I went another fifty yards very slowly down the road, contemplating during every inch of it whether to go back and get to know this handsome stranger better.  I'm not sure why I didn’t go back.  I could've at least given him my phone number.  It's more like me to do that than not, but I didn't.

Maybe it was because there didn’t seem to be much point.  The temp job I'm on now isn't likely to last much longer and my meager unemployment benefits will run out a few short weeks later.  I'm expecting to have to move out of the area.  Besides, even if he's a nice guy, not too short (it was hard to tell with me up in the truck and him sitting on an ATV), and interested in dating me — being in a needy situation, which I most certainly will be, is no way to start a relationship.  I'm content remembering a handsome stranger who's on the lookout for a good looking woman on horseback.  I can dream on that.