R and J in the USA

People help each other out, and that’s a nice thing. For the second time on this trip, we got our van stuck in shaky ground. And for the second time, a stranger stopped to help us out.

The first time we got stuck, in the loose gravel of coastal Maine, a local lobsterman and some Canadian tourists lent a hand. This time, in the dirt roads of northern Arizona, a sheriff’s deputy and a local resident came to our aid.

We had camped the night before at a dispersed camping site on US Forest Service land halfway between Sedona and Flagstaff, Arizona, near the intersection of State Route 89A and Forest Road 535. The site was at the bottom of a short, steep incline down a rocky drive. The entrance to the site was a turnoff from the dirt forest road at the top of the incline. Before turning in for the night, Ryan noticed a vehicle parked at the top of the incline blocking our exit from the campsite. He figured the people in the vehicle didn’t notice we were down the hill and that they were blocking us in. He decided not to worry about it until the morning, presuming they would drive away after their night’s stay. He was wrong.

Driving up the incline in the pre-dawn morning, we found our path still blocked by the mid-sized SUV. We were reluctant to approach the vehicle, because it was still dark and we didn’t want to startle anyone or provoke an unpredictable reaction. But after several minutes of flashing our lights and honking our horn, we began to think the vehicle might be empty. That turned out to be the case. We were boxed in by an abandoned vehicle.

Our options were precarious, terrain-wise. An opening to the left between the SUV and a tree was just wide enough for us to fit through, but the left tires of the van would likely have slipped off the lip of the dirt road if we tried. This would have resulted at best in us being stuck in the trough and at worst being tipped over on our side. Behind us and to the right was an alternate exit from the campsite driveway to the forest road. That opening was uphill, angled, and deeply and unevenly rutted. We were unsure if we could get through it without bottoming out or getting stuck. Not wanting to chance either of these two options, we called 911 to report the abandoned vehicle and explain our situation. They dispatched a deputy.

While we waited, we assessed our situation and prepared for various threat scenarios. We don’t know how well-calibrated our Spidey senses are, but they weren’t tingling. And we figured if the driver had parked there with ill intent towards us, they likely would have made their move overnight. (That may not be accurate, but it’s what we thought.) So, we didn’t feel threatened. Still, we wanted to be as cautious and prepared as we could in case something untoward was going on. We locked our doors and engaged our other security measures. We made sure our self-defense instruments were within easy reach. We went through various what-if scenarios. We texted several contacts with details to ensure people back in civilization were aware of our situation should anything go wrong. Ryan texted his retired state trooper brother – the family MacGyver – and went through various scenarios with him. In the end none of it was needed, but it was good to prepare ourselves to the extent that we could.

A deputy from the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department arrived after about an hour. He checked out the vehicle, then went into his truck to look into it. He got in touch with the owner, who told him he parked there because his vehicle broke down, and that he was working with his insurance company to take care of it. That explained why the SUV was there, but it didn’t move it out of our way.

We went through our options. We could wait for the SUV owner to get the vehicle taken care of. We could call a tow truck to move it at our expense which the deputy was not able to assure us was 100% legal. We could call the Forest Service, since it was their land and they might potentially tow it out for us. All of this was filled with uncertainty other than the fact that it would certainly eat up most of our day and we were eager to get as much of it as we could at the Grand Canyon. Our last option had risks, but seemed to be the best one and was the one that the deputy was most encouraging us to do. We could attempt to drive through the rutted-out alternate exit. We decided to have a go at it. We were concerned whether the van would make it, but the deputy had confidence and assured us that he would be there to help us strategize and guide as as we attempted the feat. Thus began an adventure in which we traveled all of ten hard-won yards in an hour, flirted with tipping the van over, and dangled our front-right wheel off the ground multiple times.

Before attempting the maneuver, the deputy thought through the strategy with us as we studied the terrain and figured out the best line to take. We talked through where we wanted the right front wheel to go, where we wanted the left front wheel to go, when we wanted to cut right, and how we wanted to manage the acceleration.

In addition to being deeply rutted, the alternate exit was filled with soft dirt and at a steep incline from the driveway, and we needed to cut hard right in the middle of it to follow the optimal path. We backed partway down the hill so we could we could build up momentum going into the maneuver, and backed ourselves right into another problem.

Ryan was so focused on watching the left side of the van while backing up that he forgot to pay attention to the right side. Julie, in the passenger seat, did the same. He ended up drifting onto the uphill side of the driveway and backing the van into a 30-degree tilt to the left, which was less than ideal to say the least. At least we now know the answer to how far we can tip the van without it tipping over. Our right front wheel was a good 10-12 inches off the ground. After a few minutes of studying and thinking, the deputy guided us back onto the driveway and back into verticality. That was a big win.

Free from the threat of tipping over, we took a run at the uphill obstacle course that lay between us and the open road. Ryan drove up the hill, onto the small level stretch, and into the uphill rut field. He hit the line perfectly, turned at just the right time, and accelerated with the right touch.

“We’ve got this,” Ryan thought, two seconds before not having it. With inches to go, the front right tire lost its bite and spun out on the loose edge of the dirt forest road. We slid back into a rut and into a conundrum.

What followed was 45 minutes of testing angles, building rock bridges, attempting to use yoga mats for traction and chewing them up like flimsy paper in the process, and making run after unsuccessful run at the exit.

Eventually a passerby in a Hummer H3 4×4 stopped and asked if we wanted him to pull us out. He didn’t have a tow rope, but he knew he had a vehicle that could do the job. Fortunately, the deputy had a tow strap in his truck. Together they attached the strap to our van and the passerby’s Hummer. It was an easy pull to get us out. With Ryan easing into the gas pedal, the Hummer’s pull gave us that extra ounce of oomph we needed to get over that final hump. We were on the forest road and free of our predicament in mere minutes.

The passerby was no-nonsense and to the point. He was friendly, but did not engage in chat. He did the job. We shook hands. We gave him a bar of chocolate from our gift basket that we always keep on hand on the road and for, an instant, he smiled like a kid at Christmas. And then he moved on.

The deputy was helpful throughout. He took care of us and made sure we were on our way before he went on his.

Both of them went above and beyond.

In addition to not having to stop at all, the passerby could have stood by and waited for us to manage the tow strap. Instead, he got down in the dirt and shimmied underneath the van to tie us on.

The deputy could have left us to our own devices after resolving the issue of the abandoned vehicle. Instead, he stayed until we were safely on our way and actively helped us throughout the process. He thought through the problem with us. He guided us. He helped us move rocks. He got behind the van and pushed. He didn’t simply address the issue that prompted the call. He helped us.

After having already given the passerby the chocolate bar from our souvenir basket as a thank you, we offered the same to the deputy. Displaying the integrity of a dedicated public servant, he politely declined the gift.

As with our Maine predicament, we could have eventually gotten out had people not come to our assistance, though we were glad they did. You don’t want to have to rely on the kindness of strangers, but it sure is nice when you can.