Saturday June 2nd was the planned departure date for the crew in Pueblo at 6:00 am. I stopped the night before at Ian’s place to load the fridge and other gear so all I had to do in the morning was pick him up. As my luck had it, I had been running behind since I left work that Friday. The delay had me up late packing and getting a grand total of 4 hours of sleep and still managed to get Ian and I to the meet up point late. Thankfully Ian fixed my sin of lateness with killer green chili breakfast burritos for all.
Bellies and fuel tanks full we hit the interstate to take a turn and travel US hwy 160 most of the way out. CB’s were dialed into channel 16 (because 4x4, get it?) and we had clear communication between the three rigs. All was going well until my phone rang as we were coming down the west side of La Veta pass. It was my wife who called to inform me that I managed to leave my duffel bag sitting on the recliner in our living room. Huh? After a few expletives later she offered to bring it to us if we could meet somewhere. I thought about it and didn’t want to be the one holding the crew up on our timeline. We had to make it to Kingman AZ for our hotel reservations. I told my wife I would just go to the Wally world in Kingman and replace what I forgot. She did send my parents this pic, which prompted another phone call where they could point and laugh at my stupidity too. Got to love my family.
The text my wife sent my parents:
Making decent time we had a bladder break in Alamosa and started our charge up the San Jaun mountain range and Wolf Creek Pass.
Larry pulling by me in 5th gear on Wolf Creek pass:
Oh and as one of you goons responded to a similar pic on IG asked if I had a Pterodactyl **** on my hood, no I've got a bird problem in my tree I need to handle with a BB gun. I meant to wash it, but ran out of time..
We had a stop for fuel on the other side of the pass and stopped again for lunch in Cortez.
In order to eliminate the possible need for stopping for fuel within the Indian Reservation, we topped off our tanks in Cortez also. The terrain changes quickly from mountains to wide-open desert leaving town and a new threat is realized.
Passing on the two-lane highway is downright dangerous. Just out of Cortez we cross the scene of an accident where three cars were involved and one was 30 yards off of the shoulder. Ian and I wondered how anybody could have a wreck with wide-open visibility and a road that is straight for miles. Bill pointed out it’s the passing. People out on this road just don’t care. Passing on double yellows, before hitting the tops of hills, where ever. If they want around you, they are going to pass. It felt like Mad Max. It was now we could feel the temps climbing. From the 50-60’s in the mountains we are now seeing 90’s and climbing. Larry and Bill’s rides having a/c had them riding in comfort. Ian and I however renamed my rig the sweat lodge in honor of the Indian land we were crossing. Still at 75mph we had pretty good airflow, it was just loud. Really loud, like me considering an intercom system so we could hear each other speak.
Our plans of not stopping on the reservation got squashed when Mr. Sidesaddle tanks didn’t want to transfer fuel on the fly and others needed a bladder break. We stop in Tuba City at the sketchiest gas station I’ve seen since the movie Vacation where they fixed the Griswold’s wagon after jumping it. Except instead of a couple of redneck’s substitute a group of panhandling Indians. I’ve met many a Native American in my life and had never met one that was the stereotypical “drunken Indian” before this day. But we found them on this day. No sooner do I swipe my card at the pump and put the nozzle in the filler neck does the first one find me. He says hello to me in Navajo and attempts to teach me how to say it. This guy was actually pretty polite and didn’t seem drunk, but hit me up for money nonetheless. Then the next one sidled up behind me and started saying please in Navajo. I don’t know a word in Navajo but he told me what it meant each time he said it, over and over. You never realize how long it takes to put fuel in until you got two guys pestering you for money in Navajo. Ian had hopped out of the K5 and went to Larry’s rig and caught him getting harassed by one. This one was more lit than the one at my truck and was completely unfazed by his statement of “ok Budweiser Bob, it’s time for you to go.” By now Bill is getting guys walking up to his truck. We load back up and pass on the idea of the bladder break here and make a move across the highway to a larger more modern travel plaza. Finally with our bladders empty and tanks full again we bug out and make the run for Flagstaff.
Upon arriving in Flagstaff we promptly hit I-40 and put the hammer down to get to Kingman before dark. Dodging construction, Semi’s and an oncoming thunderstorm we make it to our target with time to spare. Some of us hit a local joint for some dinner and a beer and some take to the hotel and clean up from the road. After dinner I go shopping to replace the stuff I left at home. While at the store I find that I’m being beckoned to the parking lot at the hotel by our ringleader. I finish up and meet back up with Larry and Ian in the hotel lot where we relax and BS over some beers. It was about this time where Don and Tom rolled up in the Waggy. Don and Ian head up to their rooms while Larry, Tom and I catch up for a little while more. Tired from the road we break up the party and head to bed so we can be ready for departure at 7:30 the next morning.
I swear Don could double as a Tornado Chaser with the Waggy. More lights, CB and HAM antennae I thought I was going to see Helen Hunt hop out of the passenger seat. Then Tommy hopped out. BOO!
Next, Meeting up with the rest of the crew and hitting dirt on the Mojave.