21 Mar A Little Perseverance In The Beehive State

A Little Perseverance In The Beehive State

by Ed Nevin

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July 2013, Headed north somewhere near Route 89, Utah. We were coming from a week-long sprint across the desert from Galveston, Texas to Las Vegas, Nevada. Galveston reminded me of the Texas version of Fire Island (coming from a lifelong New Yorker). Needless to say, if you’ve ever been to either, it was indeed a rough morning when we left, and I mean that in the best way possible.

One of my friends, Nick was actually meeting his uncle for the first time in his adult life down there, who graciously received us with a bottle of tequila each. After an amazing two days in Galveston, the plan was to take the next few days to hit a few sites along the way, before reaching the third homie Chris’ cousins house in Vegas.

The first day we hit Houston, Texas then drove up to Fort Worth, where we spent the night relaxing in a totally empty campground (besides the masses of grasshoppers and the occasional morning shoe scorpion of course). Awoken by the sound of rainfall, we loosely packed everything into the car and made a beeline for New Mexico. When we arrived looking for a place to stay, some locals warned us about an incoming storm and told us we shouldn’t camp here tonight. The look on the horizon seemed to back them up, so we kept driving. Taking shifts through the night, we made only one stop at a gas station full of coyotes and rough coffee.

Our sights were set (or squinted) on the Grand Canyon which of course, would make this 36-hour drive totally worth it, which it was. The next day was Zion Canyon, this place was extremely beautiful (especially the weeping rock and upper emerald pool trails, take the bus ride its worth it) and only about 5 hours from the Grand Canyon, and then onto Bryce Canyon (check out Bryce point and find yourself a nice hoodoo), another hour or so. Did I say Canyon?

Heres where things got interesting and wound up actually being one of the most memorable parts of this month-long road trip. On our way west towards  I-15, which could take us right into Las Vegas, The GPS took us to one westbound road which had a detour sign and the accompanying mileage that was about to be added to your drive. We did the math and realized that we had to take the detour anyway, and had no other good options. What route it escaped me (most likely route 9 from Mt. Carmel to Springdale) but I’ll never forget driving down it.

A lady in a reflective highway vest comes out of what looks like a toll booth as we pull up to the entrance of the detour. She checks our air in our tires and warns us that this detour was last minute and this road isn’t exactly finished but you can probably make it anyways. Plus, well send a pilot truck just ahead of you down the road to make sure everything goes smooth. In hindsight, maybe we were just confused as hell, but I don’t even think we thought twice before wheeling away and taking our chances.

The pilot truck turned down the beautiful, empty (probably for a reason) open Utah road, the Honda right behind it. The road wasn’t too bad for a while, we laughed and joked about the roaming longhorn cattle who loitered on the shoulder. Actually, I think we made it close to the end before the road started to turn on us. Seriously, I mean it started to vanish into red dirt, and every quarter mile it got worse, with huge pits of sand on either the left or right side, swerving and gassing the car hard to get around or through them. My car ain’t made for that s**t.

The mood in the car was not exactly shared by everybody. It would have been, except I was frustrated at the possible damage to my brand new car. My friend’s a little bit more lax about the situation, enjoying the thrill of the only time they’ll ever get to go off-roading in a Honda Fit. A few more sandpits and giant dusty speed bumps later while following the “pilot truck”, Nick proclaims “This car is fucking beast!”. Which is hilarious in context of the video we took to which we slam to stop seconds later, Nick shouting to the truck a second time “Hey, please help us!”

Many of the pictures we took across the Southwest were understandably taken at Zion, Bryce, and The Grand Canyon, not excluding a few of the craziest sky we’ve ever seen in New Mexico. However, one of my favorites that I still continue to show to people is a panorama of us, me helplessly digging to free my tire, and my buddy looking down the long empty road, with nothing but red sand for miles, longing for a cheeseburger.

The truck did indeed turn around and came back to bail us out. A Father and his son who was probably our age at the time, stepped out of the red pickup.

This whole thing was just confusing, so don’t ask me. A few brags about the oversized go-cart we all piled out of, “I Cant believe it made it this far!” We exchanged smiles, thank you’s and handshakes before getting in front of the car and pushing it back onto what was left of the road.

“Were on a cross-country road trip, that’s why us New Yorkers are way out here!” shouts Nick, over the wind. The man grabs his tow chain and quickly responds, filling us in on why we’re in this predicament. “The highway across the mountain caved in, so it’s closed!” His son chimed in that a rockslide fell on the fault line, closing the road and causing the highway officials to redirect us to the detour we were now digging ourselves out of.

We dug out and pushed out quickly, and no tow was necessary. After getting the car back on flat land the younger man shouts “Just go right through it!” pointing down the road, “After this next patch of sand it should get pretty solid up ahead.” We thanked them, I signaled to the homies to get into the car so we can continue.

A few minutes later, the pilot truck disappears over the horizon, probably set back in their schedule for the day. We drove a little cautious, but overall merrily on our way, trailing behind. I think we made it like a half a mile before slamming to a second stop, this time way worse than the first.

It was not our day.

Being the ill-prepared fools we were, I think we had like 4 luke-hot bottles of water, a few hot dogs (86 buns) and a bag of wasabi peas, to which only I was a fan. Now we were worried. What felt like hours passed. First, we tried to dig out, no avail. Then we joked about eating cactus to survive, also no luck, even though we’ve all watched a lot of Planet Earth and we swore we could. Finally, a Jeep appeared in the distance.

Nope, He drove right past us and wound up getting stuck a few hundred feet from us in another sand pit. Now were knew we were screwed, the jeep cant even make it?! Oh fuck. Did I say you have to have patience and perseverance to maintain in the desert? Cause you do, and it pays off.

Another pickup truck was spotted! Some of the coolest people I’ve ever met stepped out.  It was an older man and his son, and I’m assuming the woman who stayed in the truck was his wife. He explained that they had a small rope they could try to pull us out with, but he wasn’t sure if it will be strong enough. Unfortunately, he was right, and the rope snapped almost as soon as it was tied onto my hitch.

The look on their faces told me they didn’t have another one. He saw I was worried and explained that they were Hopi Indians and their house wasn’t too far from here, close to their reservation. They planned on grabbing another sturdier rope from the house and returning, stating it was a little less than an hour away.

The sun started to dim and the sky darkened as they pulled away. I’m sad to say I was skeptical of their return. Living in New York people aren’t always so quick to throw away half of their night to bail complete strangers, tourists none the less. It was getting dark fast and the conversation between the three of us (The jeep guy didn’t come over yet, still in their truck) turned to conserving the water we had and if we could camp here tonight.

They did return just in time to bail us out before it got dark, and they also had time to help jeep guy get out of his ditch. It was a blessing on our road trip, one of many nonetheless, but one that really got me thinking about the potential of the human spirit. They treated us like we were their family for the moment, even going so far as to follow us till we were off of the road which still had another treacherous mile or so before becoming stable again. The blessed us on the rest of our trip and a few honks of the horn later they were out of sight, never to be seen again.

With spirits high, we decided to camp in Arizona that night to recover from one hell of a week. Before arriving at the campground we stopped at an outdoor burger joint in the town near our tent site. Covered in red dirt (to which still resides under my Honda, 5 years later) we celebrated over fries and shakes, which was exactly what was needed.

This unforgettable experience of feeling totally helpless, and just as your about to lose hope, receiving exactly what you needed from the most gracious of human beings. Never forget about your fellow humans and the power of compassion that they can have.

Take a note from your own experiences and never be afraid to take the time to enjoy the unexpected on your next expedition!

Check out more posts from the United States or other Stories!