The night is long and dark.
I curl up in a semi-fetal position and try to relax in my truck.
I have had been camping up here now for two weeks, and the loneliness is setting in hard. With no real home other than my truck, and no real company other than my thoughts, the dark of night can be a hard beast to face.
Most nights I have been using my laptop to play simple games and listen to music. I plug the laptop into my trucks power-adapter and run it as long as I feel comfortable, before I get worried enough about a dead battery, and shut the truck off.
My battery sucks. My laptop battery I mean, just useless. Fully charged the comp’ might last 10 minutes, with dim lighting and low music. Oh well, I can’t afford worrying about luxuries when I’m squatting on the land in the mountains.
Tonight is a special night, for one great reason. My truck battery just died.
Damn!
I even have a volt meter for assurances. How could I be this dumb? Again!
Alright, don’t panic. You have time; you have water and food, sleeping bags and clothes. You have no music, and no form of transportation. That’s okay, those I can deal with for a bit.
What can I do?
Well, I’m parked on a hill, but its steep as hell and full of stumps, rocks, and pits for me to get happily stuck in. Let alone the fact, that at the end of that short hill are some nice trees for me to get jammed against.
Hmm... I could do it though. I have a bit of juice. Enough to help me turn over the engine, and gravity can do the rest.
I’d have to be quick.
Razor sharp.
I’d have one chance. With only 10 feet of run, it’s gonna be dicey.
Damn.
Can I back out of those trees once I’m wedged up against them, assuming I got the truck running?
I think I can, but shit, that’s another big chance too.
Go big or go home.
Okay. Let’s do it. Firsts things first get the truck just on the cusp of the hill and get it set up to roll down. Only a foot or two, no problem, I’ve pushed cars up shallow hills before, this should be no problem.
Push.
Not an inch.
Push harder.
Maybe an inch.
What the?
Can’t even get it rolling a bit.
Okay, its late.
Take it easy and rest the night.
Maybe it’s not the best idea to get my truck stuck down there in the dark when the truck needs to be level for me to sleep.
The sun is baking me alive. That must mean its morning. I roll around a bit, and try to hide from the sun. But my windows show the sun exactly where to shine on me, and I’m done like a roast.
Same battle most mornings. Takes so much to get to sleep, and so little to pull me out of it.
My thoughts wander for a while, as I’m being cooked out of my slumber. And like a glass of cold water in my face, the realization hits me that my truck is dead. It pulls me out of my half-sleep in a hurry.
Damn and double damn! I thought that was just a silly nightmare.
Nope, no nightmares out here, just hard consequences from small mistakes.
Okay, you have the whole day, first things first, breakfast.
I go to town.
I scramble three eggs with some thick chunks of onion, spices, and good hit of jalapeños. I cut up some potatoes into some nice thick squares; fry them up, with overdose of oil, into a burly plate of hash browns. I boil up some water, throw some coffee together, and cut up an apple and a banana.
Eating breakfast turns into an almost drug-like induced coma. Calms me down, and I am surprised at how hungry I was. Stress was so potent and available, that I didn’t really realize hunger was such a big part of it.
I am calm now and collected.
I congratulate myself briefly on my wisdom of calling it quits last night. I have a whole day ahead of me, I’m well fed, and it’s a gorgeous day.
Back to the problem.
Last thing I was trying was to get the truck to start rolling.
I try again.
I try hard.
Same thing, truck won’t move. It seems to want to roll a bit but it’s like all the tires have wheel chalks.
I take a good look around the truck and where the tires seem to be catching. Not much obstruction.
I know that I’ve never tried to move a vehicle on rough ground before, but still, it shouldn’t be that hard.
I do my best to clean up the areas in front of the tires, and really can’t do much, as there isn’t actually much debris in the way. I can’t dig down in front of them, as then ill just be able to roll my truck in to four little pits. Then I’m really screwed.
What about leverage?
Got to be some fallen lumber around here strong enough to push the truck.
I look for some time, but can’t find anything very promising. All the fallen wood around here is rotten crap. I’m also not the guy to chop down live trees either. So I’m stuck with using a 50 pound rotten log, only wood I could find that might be strong enough.
It’s so heavy and awkward that alot of my strength and agility is taken up by just handling the thing. Once I have connection to the back of the truck, there isn’t too much more raw strength from me to push.
I try.
I try harder.
I get upset and give up.
Not only is the logs weight holding me back, and can’t really find a good point of leverage and contact that is in the right spot. Either the bumper is too tall and above my point of strength, or the log is slipping against it, or my footing isn’t good, etc.
My only other option other than jump starting this thing myself, is not something I’m looking forward too.
My only other option is chancing on finding people after I can sweat my way up out of here on to the more active logging road.
It’s a long hike.
Not only that, but I don’t have jumper cables. It’s stupid, but I lent them to my cousin before I left and forgot about them in the haste of leaving.
If I don’t have jumper cables, and no vehicle in site, I’m going to look pretty ridiculous out there. A man who lives in the bush by himself is not someone your immediately going to trust, or at least that is the perception.
I also don’t really want to be discovered out here. I came out here to get away from it all, to get some connection to the land, but explaining that to someone, in these circumstances, will probably just sound like I’m an outcast, or maybe sound like I’m growing something illegal up here.
Do I really have a choice?
Well, not really. Pushing the truck seems to be not possible, or at the very least extremely difficult. And at the end of that, it’s a big risk as the hill isn’t long, and the chances of me getting the truck running are slim anyways. And if my truck doesn’t fire up by the end of that hill, than I’m really screwed!
Okay, it’s time for the last resort.
I can’t bring my truck, obviously, but I seriously doubt that if I do find someone, they’d be willing to let me lead them deep into the bush, supposedly to charge the battery of this bush-mans truck.
I’d have to make it easier for that person. Only option than is too bring the battery with me.
Man! This is gonna suck!
It’s a long hike out anyways, but with that battery… I mean the thing is built for a truck. Car batteries are forty pounds, this is a truck battery; at least one third bigger, filled with acid and lead. I’d rather carry 10 bricks.
Not only is the batter very heavy, that’s one thing. At least with ten bricks, or some equivalent, id be able to strap it securely to my backpack or something. I’d be able to rig up a viable method of carrying it. Not so with batteries. Well do I know what the acid in them can do to clothing, and anything really. I’ve melted a shirt once just from carrying a car battery from the front yard of my parents place to the back. The next day I grabbed the shirt again and found it covered in huge patches of emptiness. I had held the battery against my belly, and the acid had leaked out.
I don’t want to sacrifice my camping gear, especially not me expensive back-packs.
I also don’t want to destroy any good clothing, so my only safe way to carry it is to wrap in tarp and carry it against some cheap, sacrificial clothing.
Standing here all day worrying about the hike ahead, isn’t going to put any miles under you feet.
I grab my Leatherman, and unscrew the battery. I wrap the thing in a torn and worn tarp I have buried in my truck.
Time to walk.
I start walking.
I keep walking.
I walk, and start sweating.
I adjust my load, and rest, than walk again.
I walk for a shorter distance, rest, adjust the way I’m holding the battery, than keep walking.
I feel my muscles giving way.
I won’t be able to do this. I won’t make it to the logging road, maybe not even the offshoot road that I came in on.
Okay buddy, don’t be weak, tough it out and keep going.
I keep walking.
I make it to the offshoot dirt track. I realize that making it to the logging road won’t happen. Or at least not right now.
I brought some snacks and water. Time to eat and refresh a bit.
I wait.
I think I hear a noise.
Yes, it’s a vehicle.
No, it’s a plane.
I wait.
I see a squirrel squawking loudly, making a fool of himself. Almost as much of a fool as me.
I wait.
I think I hear voices.
No, that’s a bird.
I wait.
Man, how long have I been here? I should have kept track of the sun or something, or at least brought my cell phone, even though there isn’t reception up here.
I wait.
I hear voices. This time I’m less accepting of it, and tell myself that it’s just birds.
But no. That’s a laugh I hear. People are coming up the dirt road. I don’t hear any vehicles, maybe they are hunters?.
I wait.
They come into view, and I see that there are two people on bicycles. Once they get closer I see that it’s a youngish guy my age, and a fellow in his early 50’s.
I’m slightly embarrassed, as I know it must look pretty uncommon to see a young guy sitting in the middle of a random dirt road, up in the boonies, beside a car battery.
Once they get within general talking range, “Hey buddy, how’s it going?”, I reply with a smile, “Pretty good, nice day, just got a dead battery is all.”,
“Dead battery huh?, hmm… Shit, we can’t jump you, obviously, you need us to get help? Or something”,
I tell them that I’m alright and have food and water. I say this to them, with a confidence that I don’t really feel.
I find out in a brief chat that they are on a big bike tour, riding some trail that comes from somewhere and goes somewhere else. My mind isn’t really in their adventure, just that they aren’t able to help me. I try to be polite, and they are super willing to help if they could, but they can’t, and I’m disappointed, whether I show it or not.
They leave.
I’m left pretty much exhausted and noticing that its getting fairly late, as well as I’m getting hungry again; I decide that I’ll have to try again tomorrow.
I leave the battery a little off the road, thinking that no one ever really comes up here, and if they do they aren’t going to spot, or at least, steal the battery.
I begin my long trek back to the truck, and find out by the time I get back, that it’s really not that long after all.
I resolve to hike the battery much further up the road tomorrow and get it to the main logging road.
I give some self-sympathy and remind myself that I spent most of the morning and my effort, trying to push the truck.
I pull out my cooking gear, with not nearly as much enthusiasm as I had this morning. I figure out the simplest dinner, and begin to heat it. Canned chili. I toast some bread, to try to make up for the awful flavor of canned crap. But I have no energy, or no motivation, for anything else.
My mood is foul, and clouded with disappointment.
I read.
A noise.
Probably a plane again.
I listen to it for a while, I come to the conclusion that it’s not a plane. It’s a vehicle, or vehicles, probably 4x4s, as no car can travel around here.
Oh well, probably a long ways off, and it’s just my luck that I couldn’t stick it out on the road and had to be a wimp and run back home.
I try not to berate myself, but my frustration with myself is tough.
Why couldn’t I just hang out for a half hour more?
I listen for a while longer, and the trucks are getting closer.
What could it hurt to walk out that direction and see if there is a chance of catching the guys.
I start walking towards the road I was on earlier. As I’m walking the trucks are getting noticeably closer.
I start running.
I’m running hard, and all of a sudden I see a jeep. Its huge and lifted, and I hope I can get to him before he drives off without seeing me.
I’m running hard and I think I’m going to miss the jeep.
I do
He’s past field of vision, but I keep running.
I get to the road he was on, and start running his direction, than get startled with a honk right behind me.
The other truck!
Relief battles with adrenaline, and a crazy fast heart rate.
I walk up to the truck and try to speak, but all that comes out are gasps for air.
I’m trying to laugh cause it’s so ridiculous but I’m having a hard time of it with all my gasping.
Finally I’m able to choke out a few words, and slowly explain to the guys in the truck that my battery is dead and my truck is a little down the road off in the bush, but I don’t have any cables.
The jeep turned around now and now I’m talking to both trucks. The guy in the second truck tells me, “definitely, this is not my truck, ask the other guy if he has some jumpers, I’m sure we do”.
I go to the jeep, and this guy is super eager to help, but tells me that there aren’t any cables in his jeep as he forgot them with his buddy or something. But he says, no worries, there should be some in the Ford.
He’s out of his truck and spends at least 5 solid minutes searching up and down through his Ford for the cables.
I find out that he owns both vehicles.
I think he doesn’t have any, but the guy refuses to believe that both trucks have none. After a bit of time though, he accepts that he doesn’t have any.
I have to laugh.
I tell the two guys, there are five of them all together and I think they are relatives, “that’s fine, what can you do?”
But the guy with the Jeep isn’t done yet.
He asks me how far in the bush I am.
I tell him.
He tells me they could tow my truck out of there and jump it.
I tell him that I wouldn’t want him to scratch his jeep in the bush, as where I am I wacked more than a few branches coming in, and the jeep had an immaculate paint job, even though it was such an awesome off-roader.
And I tell him, ‘Its alright man, I’ll get it jumped tomorrow.’
He doesn’t buy it.
Him and his group talk a bit, and I find out pretty quickly that I’m not part of the decision process.
That’s fine. I leave fate up to them.
They get them self’s all pumped up, and I’m told that they are getting my truck out of there, no argument.
It takes them over two hours and a bunch of sweat to grab the battery back from the road, pull the truck out of the bush and jump it.
By the time we are done, its well past dark.
They do it though and I can’t help but be amazed at their generosity, and good cheer.
I go to bed with a smile, and think, man what rollercoaster!
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