When a road trip becomes a river cruise and you don't have a boat

589

12 October 2012

R. Linda:

Well . . . where to begin. The highlight of our trip was a certain misadventure of mine, but it will be a part of our trip we'll never forget. Of course, we find it funny now, but we didn't at the time. We left the Distillery just as the sun popped through the clouds. It had rained a bit the night before, so things were a wee bit wet. Anyway, much had been made on the tour about the angel pond out in front of the distillery where the water for the whiskey is made. It is fed by a waterfall back in the hills and for some odd reason, I thought the waterfall would be a lovely sight to see.

 

The angel pond

So as we started off down the road there was a sign for the waterfall but I missed it. Tonya pointed that out so me being me, I took the next right instead of turning around as most people would. I was reckoning it went in the same direction as the missed road and all I would have to do was make a right at the end and there we'd be.

The road was gravel. Yes, it was. And Tonya immediately noticed that.

"What did you promise about NEVER taking another gravel road again?" She demanded.

"I know, I know, but the waterfall . . . "
                                                                                         

Looked innocent enough

We followed this gravel road for what seemed an eternity. We both didn't voice it, but we KNEW we were way beyond where we should be. I checked the Tom-Tom map and noticed that if I made a left which was the only way I could go, THAT road swung around to the right eventually and maybe instant waterfall. So when I got to the end of the gravel road, I turned left and as I did I hit low-hanging tree branches right in front of me and two rather large puddles appeared to which I gunned the Charger to get through before Tonya screamed, "STOP!"

Okay doesn't look like much but . . . I made it through those two puddles (you can hardly see the first one but it's there)

In front of us, no more than a few feet away were two more puddles and what looked from my side of the motor like a third. I was ready to gun the motor through when Tonya screamed at me.

"THAT IS A FECKING RIVER GABRIEL! WE ARE NOT IN A BOAT! TURN AROUND NOW!"

 

Yea-ah

I got out because truly I could not see the third puddle was a river and I knew since I just zoomed through two others, I might be able to take the next ones even if they were bigger. But, when I walked to the edge of the first large puddle and could see beyond the second, I hate to admit it, but Tonya was correct the third puddle was no puddle it was a flowing river. Of which if I had gunned the motor forward through the first and was lucky enough to get through the second, we'd drown in the third because we'd be carried downstream.

Yee-ah you can just see the third puddle isn't a puddle it turns to the right into a river and you could hear it flowing. Look at that second dirt mound before splashdown, oi!

So there we were, me having to admit she was right. Now the thing was to turn the motor around and gun our way back the way we came in the direction of the two puddles I had already got us through (that by ramming through had made quite a bit deeper). Something I hadn't counted on when I first did it.

Tonya was stalking around the car with her mobile and informed me we had no cell phone reception. Oh, goody. That meant if we couldn't get out (which was becoming a distinct possibility BECAUSE the road was more narrow than the motor turned horizontal, which was wider and longer than the road) we were doomed. Such a quandary -- what to do? What to do be easy when you have a wife like Tonya. I either get that damn thing turned around no matter what, or she'll do it and I'll live to hear about it for the rest of me days.

"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? I told you that the Tom-Tom lies and what did you do?"

Well, I knew what I did. I trusted Maudie and I fecked up. She told me to get in and move the motor forward and she'd tell me when to back up. She then cleared a downed tree which I watched in awe in the rearview mirror. Then she kicked and threw the brush aside. Once she had that side done, she went to the other side and did the same. I was freaking impressed at her amazon strength and determination to get us turned around.

"Okay cut the wheels and come back slowly." She ordered using her hands to guide me visually because we both know men can't follow oral directions they need hand signals too. Gees!

But in my frustration of "That's it a little more . . . a little more . . . a little more," I zoomed back and hit a stump with a loud CRACK of the bumper. Yes, I did and she was pissed. I was also pissed at meself for putting a huge dent in the back of the motor, but when I got out to look I was lucky there was no dent. Well, not one you could see from the dirt and mud. I was ordered back in, but not before I said I did not think we could turn the car around.

"So what's the big idea then Gabe? Back it up at warp speed and hope we get through those puddles you have already gouged out, or just what? Maybe you'd like to gnaw a few trees down and build a hut."

Actually, that was exactly what I was thinking of driving backwards at full speed, but I wasn't going to argue, this was my fault so nothing to be gained from the sarcasm.

"Uh . . . okay I'll get back in but you have to guide me," I said covering up I had no clue what the plan was.

So back and forth, and back and forth and I was suspicious that she was using the motor like a ramming device because as I'd get as far as I could she'd tell me to give it a tad more gas, not too much, just a wee bit more and I had the distinct impression the car was clearing the mud back with the bumper. Both of them, front and back. But I couldn't see. Once the car was horizontal I was defeated. I got out.

"We will never be able to turn this thing," I said frustrated. I got back in, but as I did she told me to get the hell out she'd do it. We had words. Yes, we did.

"We have been out here for an hour! A full hour! There is no cell phone reception, no PEOPLE, no HOUSES, no nothing for miles and miles! I signed up for a road trip, not a cruise! If you can't move that car to the way we came I WILL DO IT!"

I got in before she could, the two of us fighting for the driver's seat. I won. So within another 45 minutes, we got the motor turned around. I got out and the bumpers were jammed with mud. I got a twig and started to clean it out but I was stressed and gave it up. Here's a picture of the lovely mess in the back and be assured the front looked just as bad and the sides had mud splashes all over.

 

Muddy bottoms

I was so stressed I didn't know what to do. I stood in front of the motor trying to figure out how to traverse the puddles AGAIN, as Tonya took pictures of the river behind us.

                                                                                     

I was so defeated. The little woman had won out and shown me up

I knew if I didn't follow her directions, come hell or high water (mostly like the last being a real possibility), Tonya would have lifted that car up and flipped it in the right direction. There was no way she was spending her time in the woods.

Well, once I was settled down, we got back in and I decided to gun the Charger through the puddles in the hopes we'd get through those at least. I was pretty sure I could do that. Unlike the opposite direction where the puddles sunk down and then a hump of dirt appeared (giving away the fact the puddle was deep and we'd be zooming into the air and splashing down the other side) this side didn't have but a few raised patches between them and not as high.

"Ton? You ready? Because here we go!" I said ready to put the pedal to the metal.

"NOOO! THIS IS NOT THE FLUME, THIS IS NOT A WATER RIDE! WATCH OUT!" She shouted, but too late we were waterborne. "Gabe go to the left . . . to the left! There's a protruding . . ." was all she got out because I hit it thinking it was a stick when in fact it was a log with a branch sticking up from the muddy water. Oh yeah, it did some thumping and as we cleared the first puddle and started for the second, something metallic clanged and fell off.

"Was a rock Ton, just a rock," I lied as I came splashing into puddle number two the longer and deeper one. As the car started to slow down she yelled at me not to stop but to go go go! But I couldn't, the drag from the water was curtailing our speed, but just as I thought we would be bobbing forever in a large murky puddle we cleared it! We high-fived as I came to a screeching halt turning almost sideways onto the gravel road.

"We made it! We are SAFE!" I high-fived her again and again such was my relief.

"YOU better promise me NO MORE GRAVEL OR DIRT ROADS!"

I promised. I was sure our water sporting adventures in gravel and mud were over. Well, the gravel and mud part was, the water . . . not so much.

Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved