One Road. The Only Road.

Camping in the Colorado wilderness presents challenges, always. On this occasion, it was a chance for Boru and me to escape near-100-degree heat and to spend time with my friend of 40 years, Eric Schickler. Eric spends lots of time near Vail, teaching kids to ski. He has also found some gorgeous camping spots and hiking trails within a half-day drive from Denver.

A few words about our camping site without disclosing the exact location. The elevation is 9,886 feet above sea level, and a gain of more than 2,000 feet from the base of the road that takes you there. This is an important fact: There is only road that takes you there. The altitude means that the temperature was 15-20 degrees cooler than it was in Denver. Therefore, I’m a cooler human being when I’m camping than when I’m not. It has all the comforts of home — check that, it has none of the comforts of home. However, our site did have cell reception which meant: Tunes!

On Day 2 of this trip, we hiked the Piney Lake Trail. The dirt-and-clay National Forest road from our campsite to Piney Lake was exhilarating, compromised by washouts and jagged rocks and enough bumps to challenge even the best suspension system. We hiked – How many miles is 13,000 steps? It was fun chatting with the people passing on their way back, even if it was just to say hello. Boru had fun exploring as far as the leash would let him, and he got pretty dusty and dirty.

On the way back, we descended a rocky clime to a sandy beach area so that Boru could rinse off in the water. There, we met Isabella, and soon, five of her college classmates from Maine returned from their hike. Boru went swimming with them.

Boru, flirting with the young ladies.

It was fun, but the true adventure had not yet begun.

We drove the rock-strewn dusty road back, Eric talking, me listening and Boru licking the water off his feet, and then — ERRRRGH! I stopped the car. Our one road was blocked by two fallen trees. I surmised they had to have fallen recently because there were no other tire tracks indicating a K-turn on either side of Mother Nature’s destruction, and no cars waiting. It was about 4:30 p.m.

Here’s where the “fun” began, because the dialogue could have been lifted straight from “The Odd Couple.” I said that we should call for help. Eric said, it’s 4:30 and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Do you really believe anybody is going to come here to help us now? And I said, it’s their job. Eric replied, it may be their job but they are probably on their way home to throw a few burgers on the grill. They won’t do anything about us until tomorrow or two days from now. And I said, we can sit here and talk about it, or I can make a phone call. We decided to check out the fallen trees to see if we could hatch another plan. They were big.

I said, I have a heavy-duty towing strap. We could try to pull the big one off the road. We both agreed that my Herculean 4-cylinder Jeep Renegade probably wouldn’t budge the behemoth tree trunk — still attached to its roots, I must add. There was about a two foot shoulder to the right, and then a steep drop. Maybe we could drive over it on the right. I said, I dont know about that. This Jeep comes with warnings that it is extremely tippable. Those are the words they use: extremely tippable. Eric wasn’t worried. Ah, you can do it. I started breaking all the dry, pointy branches that I foresaw splitting the steel belts of my new tires. I thought it was possible. Maybe. I told him, what we really need is somebody with a chainsaw. After I said it, I thought about those bloody chainsaw horror movies. Eric suggested that he walk up to our camp, get his car and come back to pick up me and Boru. I would leave my Jeep on the road and come back for it after the tree was cleared. It’s only a mile up the road, he said. He was convinced that was the best plan. I countered, it’s further than that. Eric said, I know this road. We’re only a mile up. (We were actually two miles). Whatever.

I’m going to call 9-1-1, I said, walking back to the Jeep, where Boru wanted in on the action. Eric said he was going to start walking. I used my cell to call. No service. Eric was walking away. I used the emergency call button on my ceiling panel – the one that I sometimes hit by accident trying to open the sun roof. Unable to connect.

A black pickup truck came from the opposite side of the trees. Eric was already there, and he talked to the driver. The driver got out of his Dodge Ram 2500 truck, and Eric flashed a thumbs up. We all met by the trees to survey the situation.

“Do you have a chainsaw?”

“No, but I have access to one if we need it. I have a heavy chain that should do the trick.”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“Jake.”

“Jake from State Farm?” I asked.

He laughed. “No, Jake from the Junction.”

So, Jake from Grand Junction, who just happened to work for a logging company, and just happened to be trying to pass the same road just 10 minutes or so after we realized we were (st)ucked, pulled a massive chain from his truck bed. He moved the timber as if he was pushing a strand of pasta to the side of his plate. The three of us cleared the debris from the road, bumped fists and went our separate ways.

Potential disaster averted. What are the chances?