Oh Grumpy Day

Contrary to the lucky adventure, stumbling upon interesting places, Al described in our last posting, I get the honors of complaining about the crap-sucking day of planned stops. If you can, try reading it with a jovial, sarcastic tone.

Matt’s Off Road is a YouTube channel we’ve been following for some time. I had seen the Morrvair (a highly modified Corvair Lakewood wagon) and Banana (XJ-platform Cherokee) at the Great Smoky Mountain Jeep Invasion a year prior, but Al hadn’t. It was neat seeing the Golden Nugget: a Suzuki LJ-20 that was extensively restored from a heavily decayed state due to years being trapped in a California forest. The gold color was oddly greenish and unappealing, like pee mixed with the green of an oxidized copper pipe or roof, not glowing as it appeared in videos. Anyway, I thought I could ask them questions or get suggestions on which recovery gear would benefit our situation, in case we get the motorhome or truck stuck in our travels. While visitors are welcome to see and take pictures of the vehicles, they are not allowed to talk to anyone but the tour guide/merchandise seller, whom is not experienced with towing and recovery, nor qualified to make suggestions on appropriate gear. I get that they can’t be interrupted constantly, but at the same time, many of their videos show them interacting with visitors, and they lost a multi-hundred dollar sale. As my humble protest that they’ll never see, I’m won’t even posting their pictures! On to the next stop we went!

We pulled in to Red Cliffs Recreation Area, trying to figure out the fees for entering for several minutes, then discovering that the America The Beautiful National Park Pass covers the $5.00 entry. We stopped for pics at the Adams House, discovering it was the last remnant of the entire community of Harrisburg. Our mapped plan would have taken us right to Leeds Kiln as dummy Google says the road goes through, but it ends at a trailhead with no trace that the road had ever continued. That added about fifteen miles and a half hour or more to our day, missing the Anasazi village ruins, but back out to the highway we went.

Leeds Kiln is a large beehive looking thing built in 1885 that miners used for making charcoal. It’s along a really crappy road full of rock outcroppings and ruts, EXTREMELY dusty, and we had driven it a few days earlier looking for campsites that were not available. It wasn’t a bad hike, but a roofing nail poked through my shoes and nearly stabbed into my foot. Being that was my good foot, I couldn’t step down on it and nearly fell over while hopping on the bad one until Al could help get it out. How does a roofing nail end up so many miles from civilization, where no nails should have ever been? I have the best luck! So the neat thing about this place are the many signs telling about the native plants/shrubs/trees, teaching children (and adults) about our ecosystem. We had the place to ourselves initially, with Suki on her leash and Cassie in her pack, then a mother and kids showed up with their dog running amuck unleashed. We got out of there, drove to top at Oak Grove Campground, then startled the bejesus out of a jogger on the way down... he looked like he might have crapped himself , but his initial reaction made him jump in our path rather than away from it. Either way, we didn’t kill him and he survived untouched.

Continuing our clockwise route, we pulled in at the Toquerville Mine trailhead. While not long, the trail circles a small butte. We should have done it counter-clockwise as the mine was right there, but we went the other way, hiking past a lot of nothingness. It was hot, baking in the sun, and I could have benefitted saving some footsteps. The scrambling required from our chosen direction was much steeper as well. The mine ain’t much to look at, like prison bars covering a man-made cave opening. Here’s the pictures, then onward we go.

The next stop would have been Babylon Arch, but we decided to drive right past it, arriving at the Virgin River. The road (or trail?) continues through the river to the other side, but I wasn’t about to see if the truck would sink or swim going across. Suki thought the water tasted good but Cassie wanted no part in it. We checked out the ruins of some buildings, one may have been for mining (maybe the Stormont Silver Mill?), but the second seemed awfully garage/home-like. Both were excessively adorned with vulgar or explicit graffiti, but we photographed them anyway. Don’t look close at the pics if that offends you.

On our return trip, we happened upon a Desert Tortoise crossing the road. It was a cute bugger, shyly retreating quickly within its shell, then making its way toward the water flowing into the culvert below. Spotting those tortoises is rare, and signs say to call some number if we see any whether living/dead/injured, but as we did not have phone service, us rebels did not comply.

Still making our way for Babylon Arch, OnX Maps trying to guide us on this “easy” trail for high clearance 4x4’s. Well, they lied! I’m telling you, we dragged both bumpers, had a tire off the ground more than a few times, and OnX can go lick that turtle’s butt! Well, no they shouldn’t, as they are protected and you shouldn’t touch them. Also, I bet you didn’t know that turtles carry salmonella and not washing up after handling one can make you very ill. Anyway, we scraped our way until we could turn around, talked to a guy who was camping back there (he also questioned the “road”), then gave up on the Arch, saying let’s try making it to the last stop, in hopes that we’d have an easier time.

So we turn off the highway onto Spring Drive. Aren’t “Drives” usually nicer streets or in uppity neighborhoods? Well, we were looking forward to taking Spring Drive five and a half miles to Toquerville Falls. Holy friggen’ crappoli! We trudged through the first half mile, and when I say rock outcroppings and ruts, I mean like boulders the size of a rottweiler and trenches more than two feet deep. The first moronic moment was when I was yelling at the truck cutting the throttle, only to find I was still in 2WD and the traction control was kicking in. Fine, now in 4-Low and the air suspension in OffRoad 2, we were on three wheels more often than four, punishing ourselves and the poor truck at least a couple miles before cowardly retreating. Like the Rubicon Trail, you can walk it faster than drive it, and the same could probably be said for here, but my leg wasn’t up for that long of a hike. While the truck has no skid plates, there were several metallic clunks, bangs and crunches, and I still haven’t peered underneath to inspect for damage. No puddles, gushers, or drips... no need for concern, right?

So, our plans for an easy outing showed how unprepared we were for what Utahns call “roads” and our truck’s capabilities, or my perceived acceptable level of destruction. I can’t wait to get an e-bike, as it would be easier to straddle the obstacles, would be better on my foot than walking, and I can pick it up rather than risking the bill of a potential tow truck. We never made it to most of the places we set out for, but at least we saw the elusive Desert Tortoise!

Today, I’m a bit grumpy, and it felt good writing this to let off some steam. It’s been gloomy for a couple days. The batteries were down to 32% this morning and now at a whopping 56% (not enough to cook dinner and make it through the rest of the night). The wiring and remaining parts came for the portable solar panels, but I’m not ambitious enough to set it up, and the other party hasn’t made a move, either. We replaced the refrigerator yesterday, albeit with a few hiccups along the way. I’m perturbed that it’s only me coming up with suggestions or solutions for anything, and it’s making me not give a rat’s butt of any concern like someone else is doing. The stuff that needs fixing is not solely mine, and some effort on his part has been and is far overdue. We talked about it again this morning, and while it may seem like I might have gotten through, I’m not sure if it will matter tomorrow. My motivation level is decreasing in proportion to that of which I see in my immediate surroundings, as if why should I care. I’ve tried too hard to be encouraging and supportive. It’s hard to get anything accomplished when your support crew drags you down more than helps. I don’t enjoy these thoughts or feelings, but yet they persist. Maybe I’ll make progress over the weekend. I hope y’all make the most of yours! And to my hiking friends... Happy National Hiking Day!

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