Day 4 Sunday and Still Waiting

Day 4: Sunday & Still Waiting

Sunday was slow and depressing. Very slow. Very depressing. Gary's only real comment was "Boy, that trail was a lot steeper than I thought it was gong to be! Tough road. You're going to have a lot of trouble getting out of there. Bill, you've gotten yourself in a lot of hot water!". Maybe that's where it got the name Agua Caliente Hill, which is Spanish for "Hot Water".

Day 5: Wrecking the Wrecker

At the start of business on Monday morning I called the insurance agent. After several minutes of verbal "encouragement" on my part he finally agreed to act on the situation. I asked if towing was covered on the policy, he checked the computer terminal and said "Sure." He further stated that an Allstate Insurance Company approved towing company would call to handle the details of the extraction.

He was right. Within 10 minutes my phone rang. I very carefully explained the predicament and the difficulty of the trail. He listened carefully, never saying a word. When I finished he said "I'm not equipped to handle that, but someone else will be calling you in a few minutes." I hung up half laughing, half crying. Half laughing because he wimped out without actually seeing the trail. Half crying because I knew that his sight-unseen admission of defeat attested to how difficult this task was going to be. Only a few minutes passed and the phone rang again. This wrecker person was named "Bob". I repeated my description of the steepness of the road and where the truck was located. "Bob, do you think you can handle this?" Bob's reply was something out of a John Wayne movie: "Son, I don this for a living!" Indeed.

Bob said to meet him at his junkyard, excuse me "salvage yard", with my mounted tires and rims. When Holly dropped me off, it was about 10 AM. I did not bring lunch or a camera (stupid), but I did bring water (smart). I expected the best, since Bob was so sure of himself. Big mistake. The "salvage yard" looked more like a landfill than a place where cars were dismantled for spare parts. Bob's "wrecker" was indeed a wreck - a 1950 Chevy 1 1/2 ton 4WD. And, Bob's vintage was equivalent to that of the truck. He was perhaps late 50's, early 60's. Jesus, what a day this was going to be.

We secured the tires to the winch housing and away we went toward Agua Caliente, my fate and that of my truck's resting on Bob's skill and the mechanical integrity of his 27 year old truck.

We reached the trail head, got out to lock the hubs and take a leak. Once we started on the trail and started bouncing, I realized he didn't have any seat belts. Oh, Lordy. The ride was intense. Even though Bob was a slow and careful driver, the hard springs of that truck combined with the lack of seat belts produced a set of bumps on the top of my head from impact with the ceiling. As the road got steeper, Bob started smiling and hooting like a drunk cowboy "Eee-hawww". Then he tells me about the time he broke his thumb because he forgot to keep them on the correct side of the steering wheel. His truck didn't have power steering, so every bump is transmitted back into wheel motion. If you grip the wheel "thumb-around" and you hit a large bump, the wheel will whip and break your thumb. Great. My fate lies with this fellow. Bigger than shit, just as he his finishing his story about the thumb, we hit a rock and, yes you guessed it, the wheel whips. Fortunately for Bob, he was just bruised. In pain, cussing like a scalded sailor, but just bruised. Me? I'm silently considering the prospect of having to finish my mission in this piece of shit wrecker with Bob as the passenger.

As fate would have it, the balance of the approach to the Agua Caliente Wash was uneventful. White knuckle, but uneventful. My head hurt from the constant impact with the ceiling. Plus, given our slow rate of travel, I was hungry. Should have brought lunch! And, as we'll soon see, I should have brought the camera too.

A we reached the bottom of Agua Caliente Canyon, Bob stopped and we got out to survey the situation. He had started to open up a little. Actually not a bad dude, just a little rough on the edges. Clearly, he was having fun. Must have been the first challenge in a while. And what a challenge it turned out to be!

We devised our attack plan. We would go nose up the trail to the second switch back. There, I would get out and spot him and he would back up the hill. Once close to the Blazer, we would haul the wheels up the hill and install them. Then we would use the winch and pulley to roll the Blazer over onto its wheels and I would "drive" it down the grade, without power steering or power brakes, into the wash. At that point, he would take the truck in tow and we would drive home. We discussed it at length. We considered alternatives and contingencies. It was a well planned attack. All we needed to do now was execute it.

By now it was about 2 PM. I was thinking that if all went well we could be back onto the blacktop by dark. It would be close, not much margin for error, but doable. So, with our plan in mind, and optimism in my heart, we headed for the second switch back. I got out and positioned myself such that Bob could see me from his rear view mirror. "OK, bring it on back" I shouted and gave hand signs. Bob slips the wrecker in reverse and starts his reverse ascent of the grade. I can hear the "Grrrrrrrr" of the compound low reverse gears as the wheels traverse the loose scree and gravel on the trail. The front wheels, bearing a significant fraction of the tractive burden begin to spin. Being the seasoned off-roader that he is, Bob backs off the gas a little and the spinning stops. "Grrrrrrr". The wrecker continues its ascent, but suddenly, the front wheels start to spin again. only this time, it is accompanied with a "snap". The forward momentum halts. Bob depresses the clutch, stomps the brakes and the wrecker starts sliding for the edge of the switchback.

Helpless, I watched as the wrecker slid toward the edge of the cliff. But, luck prevails and the wrecker stops short of the precipice. Bob's face looks white. He engages reverse and lets out the clutch. The back tires spin, but the front wheels are frozen. He tries again with the same result. Again. As the rear wheels proceed to dig trenches, he shouts "I feels like the front screws aren't turning. Tell me if you see the front drive shaft rotate when I let out the clutch". "Yeah, Bob, the front drive shaft turns fine". This observation could mean only one thing - the front axle was broken. The trail was steep enough that couldn't even back up enough to negotiate the switchback. So, Bob was stuck where he was. Can't go up because the rear wheels alone provided insufficient traction. Can't go down because his front wheels are to the lip of the cliff. His earlier words were ringing in my ears: "Son, I do this for a living!". Indeed.

Bob reeled out the tow cable and hooked it around a large boulder to prevent the truck from slipping. He then took a strain on the cable "Just to be sure".

By now, my heart has fallen through my asshole and was headed toward the center of gravity in the Earth. I sat in the dirt and considered the situation. Bob is totally pissed at his truck, and at me for getting him in the situation in the first place. I was PERSONALLY responsible for: 1) Breaking his truck. 2) Stranding us in the middle of the mountains with only a few hours of daylight. 3) Depriving him of his method of livelihood. 4) Every other problem Bob had. Not bad for a few hours work. "Besides", I told him, "I warned you about this trail. I told you how tough it was". My ex-boss Jim Palmer from Horizons Technology was right: "You can't tell people shit".

No time for feuding, there was only a few hours of light left. The good news was I knew the way out of the hills. This was only a small consolation to Bob as we started that long, cold walk down Agua Caliente Wash. Again. Like the first time wasn't enough. This was becoming a bad dream come true.

Actually, for an old fucker, Bob did OK in the canyon. He seemed sufficiently agile for a man in his "golden years" and didn't complain at all. In fact he didn't talk at all. For about three hours. I tell you, it's tough being the cause of all the problems in a person's life. Actually, I didn't mind the silence. It gave me a chance to think about what would have to happen next to get my Blazer back to safety.

This "little" hike was substantially better than the previous outing. Not only was it lighter, but I didn't get as wet. And, I knew where I was going - back to the rancher with the shotgun. As we entered his property, he recognized me. "What brings youall back here?". "To get my truck out. My friend here has a wrecker. But we broke the front axle, so we had to walk out again." "Gee son, that's too bad! Do you want to use the phone?" My thoughts exactly. I guess it was out of professional pride, but Bob wouldn't let me call Holly. Instead, he insisted that he call is nephew. But, I protested, "Holly knows where to pick us up". He prevailed. And, like the previous time, the driver got lost and we spent and extra hour walking, waiting for his nephew's "2-seats-for-3-people" Land Cruiser to show up at our location. "You can't tell people shit".

We did eventually get home, though it was about 8 PM. Bob's last words were "meet me at the yard at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow morning and be prepared to work!". Aye aye.

Food and a hot shower really helped but what a disaster! Not only did we fail at getting my truck out of the hills, but now we had two pieces of equipment on the hill. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did neither. I just slept.

Day 6: Land Cruisin'

Even though I didn't ask Bob the previous night, I suspected that the plan for the day somehow involved the Nephew's Land Cruiser. Had to be since Bob didn't have another vehicle except that wreck of a wrecker.

Sure enough, when Holly dropped me off at the yard, there was the Cruiser. With the hood open and two heads stuck deep inside. This doesn't look good. "Only fixing the fuel pump" they said. "A precautionary measure". Yeah, sure. It took them about an hour to complete the repairs and then the three of us were on our way: Nephew John, Bob and I. This time we were smarter. I brought extra water. Bob brought a spare axle to repair the broken one and he brought a hand held radio with a phone patch. John brought an extra fuel pump and extra gas. Finally it looked like success was on the horizon. The cruiser ran like a top, even when we hit the trail. As we geared down and started up the hill, something inside me was stirring. A sort of uneasiness. Not quantifiable, just sort of there. As we ascended the face of the Hill, just past the third set of berms, John noticed someone along the side of the trail. A man. A very hungry man. He flagged us down and we stopped and talked. He has been lost for several days. (real tough to do since you can see ALL of Tucson from his current position). He hasn't eaten in a couple of days and wants to know if we have food to spare. Not a chance, dude. Get your own lunch. As we listen to this fellow's story of hard luck, my uneasiness comes to a head: I forgot the keys to the truck!! There was minimal chance of breaking the interlock on the steering and don't really want to damage it so there is only one solution. At the next rise we radioed the Forest Service to report our lost friend. Then, I used the phone patch to call Holly at work and to tell her to bring me the truck keys at the same place she picked us up a few nights before. This, of course, means that I'd have to not only walk OUT of the canyon, but BACK UP as well. But at this point it didn't matter. It would take John and Bob several hours to swap axles, there was plenty of light and the temperature was warm. Just another walk in the park.

Holly was insightful enough to bring me a burger, fries and a soda. After gobbling down the food, I said "I'm swimming back to the ship of fools". We both laughed at the comedy of errors before us, unaware that things would only get worse. The walk back up the canyon was a breeze (I was in shape now!) and I didn't get very wet. Upon my arrival, John and Bob were putting the finishing touches on the front axle and just about ready to go. Maybe our luck has turned around, I thought fingering the keys in my pocket.

Once the axle was installed and packed with grease, we were ready to go. John put all the tools and support equipment back in the cruiser. Bob fired up the wreck and unhooked himself from the boulder. I spotted the activities.

"OK bring it on back" I shouted and motioned with my hands. "GrrrrrrrrrrrrrSNAP". The wheels lock. The wrecker slides for the lip, stopping in the ruts dug by the previous days experience. By now, Bob has his head hanging out the window, teasing the clutch and staring at the front wheels. No, the front wheels aren't turning. Yes, the drive shaft is turning. Yes, Bob, the front axle is broken. Again.

Sadly, the OTHER side of the axle was broken. This was the side for which there was no spare. What rotten luck! Bob cussed and fussed, John tried to console Bob. I sat in the dirt and stared at my boots. After about 30 minutes, it was clear that we could accomplish no more. Bob reeled out the cable and affixed it to the boulder and took a strain. I loaded all the remaining gear back into the cruiser and piled into what little back seat there was.

The three of us were silent as we worked our way down the switch back to Agua Caliente Wash. Finally, with a note of desperation in his voice, Bob said "How may I going to get my truck home? I make my living with that truck!". I though about it for a while. Clearly, given the severity of the trail, a bigger wrecker wasn't the answer. Then, half joking, I said "Let's get a D-4 (bulldozer). Its more than strong enough to pull the wrecker and the truck out. They can't cost that much to rent and we'll only need it for one day. I'll bet we can rent one with an operator too". Bob looked at me like I had accused the Virgin Mary of being a slut. I thought, "Lighten up, it was only a suggestion". To break the icy silence, I said "Let's look on the bright side here, at least we're not hiking out of the canyon again!". Neither John nor Bob responded. Sometimes, its better to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Bob's parting words were "Be at the yard at 0800 sharp tomorrow morning. We have a lot of work to do!" My parting thoughts were "WE? What you mean WE, White man?".

Day 7: Don't Bring a Boy to do a Man's Job

As requested I was at the yard at 0800 the next morning. As I watched Holly's car disappear around the corner, I couldn't help but wonder if Bob had some type of trick up his sleeve. More specifically, since Bob was the current president of the Arizona Tow Truck Operator's Association, I figured that he would "call in some chits" from his buddies and have them assist us. I was wrong. As we rolled up to the trailhead in the cruiser, I spotted an odd sight. It was a 35' long flatbed trailer with, what a surprise, a D-4 'dozer on the back. Two dudes were standing around smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee from a thermos. Perhaps Bob is smarter than he looks.

Slide 11. Unloading the D4 bulldozer used for recover of the tow truck and my vehicle.

The D-4 was soon unloaded and the delivery truck was last seen in a cloud of dust westbound back to the equipment yard. We headed up the trail with the rented operator in the D-4's driver's seat, Bob and John were in the cruiser and I elected to walk. The procession proceeded at a snail's pace due the low gearing of the D-4. Within 45 minutes we reached the first tough spot on the trail were the trail traversed a slab of granite that lay at a sizable angle to the right. To traverse this spot required no small amount of nerve and faith due to the angle of roll of the vehicle when it is on the slab. Since cruise and I were behind the dozer, we could watch as the tracks bit, then slid on the sloping rock. With the D-4 stopped and teetering in place, the operator jumped out of the cab on the uphill side. White-faced he said "Man, I just rolled a D-9 out at Pima (mine) last month. It ain't worth it. This is too tense. If you want to proceed, go ahead, but I'm not!". Great. I'm thinking, I can operate this thing, no problem. But, when I made the suggestion, the operator said "Can't do it because of insurance. You rented the dozer AND the operator." So we retreated back to the trail head. A grim-faced Bob got on his hand held and phone patched to the equipment yard and had them send the truck to pick up the D-4.

Slide 12 Bulldozer in full retreat after "chickening out" on an off-camber section early in the trail.

When we finally got back to the trail head, the truck was waiting. Much to our surprise, the truck driver said "I can do it. I know how to run this thing and I'm approved as an operator by the insurance". So the crew switched positions and the truck and trailer disappeared for the second time that day into the dust. After the truck had left the new operator, Fred, said "Joe there is just a wimp. That accident he had really made him goosey. Besides, my daddy always told me "never send a boy to do a mans job", Now I know what he meant." Despite my current optimism about getting Bob's truck back and Blaze out of the brush, I felt sure that before the day was over that Fred might have a little gas released from his machismo-bloated ego. Hell, every other attempt had taken some type of toll. No reason this attempt should be any different.

We proceeded up the trail at an agonizingly slow pace. I couldn't ride in the cruiser because the back seat was too cramped. I could ride on the D-4 because it was sprung like a rock and the impact of every pebble in the trail was transmitted to the frame. So I walked for a while and then stood around waiting. Walk and wait. Walk and wait. My anxiety was starting to peak as we approached the "slab". Partially from being bored by walking so slow and the rest due to the chance of Fred's claims of manhood being a bluff. But Fred didn't let us down. Even though the D-4 was teetering and rocking like cheap cradle, he passed the slab with ease. After the slab was behind us, I settled in for a sizable hike to the damaged trucks.

Once we reached Bob's wrecker, extraction off the steep switch backs was straightforward - with a few exceptions. We had to use the D-4 to pull the wrecker up the switch back so Bob could get the wheels aligned with the trail.

Slide 14 Assisting the tow truck on a tight turn. The dozer had to pull the wrecker up hill to allow him to make a multi-point turn. The tow cable is visible at the back of the wrecker.

Then, when the next switch back on the downgrade was encountered, the process was repeated. This was primarily due o the fact that the wheel base of the wrecker was too long to allow the truck to make the turn without backing up at least once.

Slide 15 Bulldozer assists on downhill descent on a steep section of the trail.

Soon the wrecker was resting comfortable in Agua Caliente Wash. Now it was the Blazer's turn. We creeped up the switch back and positioned the D-4 on the down slope side of the truck. Affixing a large pulley to a set of boulders on the uphill side of the truck, we stuck a steel cable from the D-4 through the pulley to the uphill side of the Blazer's frame. With the gentlest tug from the D-4, the Blazer was rolled back on its wheels.

Slide 13 Action shot of righting the vehicle. The tow cable can be seen on the left of the truck running through a snatch block attached to a boulder higher on the hill, thus providing the lateral pull required.

Now we're in business! With success in sight, we picked up the cables and other paraphernalia and put in the Blazer. Now I was faced with the rather daunting task of "free spooling" the Blazer down that steep set of switch backs with out the aid of power steering, power brakes or the ability to back up. For anyone who owns a vehicle that had power equipment can attest, when the engine is off, just turning the wheel is a major task. Braking is no easier. So I was going to get to experience both simultaneously. On a narrow, steep grade where a mistake could cost my life. Acutely aware of my earlier luck after brushing wings with the angel of death, I couldn't help but wonder if my luck had expired. Clearly, to this point the whole extraction exercise had been a classic comedy of errors. Was this trend to continue? Bob's voice broke me out of my morbid musing: "OK, the dozer is on the first switch back to help you if you can't negotiate the turn without backing up. Give it hell." Interesting choice of words, I thought as I attempted to get the truck into neutral. I pulled on the transmission lever with all my might. No motion. Harder. Nothing. Bob, seeing my dilemma, came to help. "Maybe the park pin is bent." Then he noted "It helps if you put in the key and turn the ignition, dip shit!". True. I had forgotten to insert the key. The good news was I HAD a key this time. Easy to do. Within seconds I was rolling down the grade, listening to the crunch of the tires on the gravel. Since there was no engine noise, I used the gravel sounds as my ultra-low speed speedometer. I had tightened my seat belt as tight as I could bear and took my foot off the brake slightly. "Too fast", I thought, so I depressed the brake harder. No effect, so I pressed harder. I kept pressing, but no real reduction in speed. Finally, in desperation, I used both feet on the pedal. That worked, but it required a substantial fraction of my total leg strength to cause any effect. The message was "Keep to a crawl". So, learning from this, that's just what I did. Down the grade at one mile per hour, both legs on the brake pedal, and red faced from effort, I proceeded. The first switch back approached quicker than I expected. Not wanting to have to cable up the D-4 to assist a "two part turn", I attempted to swing wide and cut it hard. Easier said than done. Like the power brakes, the power steering was very difficult to turn. It took both arms pulling with all I had to get the wheels positions correctly, but I did it! The first switch back behind me I crept toward the second. Like the first, it, too, was negotiated with substantial difficulty. But I did it. Ahead in the trail Bob waved me to a stop and said "If you can, pull close to the wrecker and we'll cable it up and get the fuck out of here!". Cool. Soon the wrecker was in sight and the grade of the trail allowed me to coast right up to the business end of the wrecker. I put the Blazer's transmission into park, set the parking brake and hopped out of the cab. Like a man bent on getting his money's worth from an expensive hooker, I was drenched in sweat. My legs and arms were shaky from the effort. Exhaustion aside, the team had succeeded in "getting to first base". All the equipment was now in Agua Caliente Wash. Time for lunch, even if it was 2 PM.

Bob was in better spirits now that he could see a solution to his problem. When we finished eating, we cabled up the Blazer to the wrecker and header down Agua Caliente Wash, D-4 in the lead. Ahead of us lay a mile or so of boulder crawling in the creek bed. Having the D-4 in the lead turned out to be a good decision on Bob's part. Fred moved many boulders out of our way so we didn't have to negotiate tight turns or risk damage to either the undercarriage of the wrecker or the now exposed underside of the Blazer. This arrangement seemed to be working fine, until Fred hopped out of the D-4's cab and said to Bob "The left track isn't pulling correctly". It seemed that, even though the D-4 could steer correctly, that when Fred tried to move a boulder of any significant size and use the left track, it didn't pull. I'm thinking "This isn't good. Now we could have a stripped truck, a damaged wrecker and a disabled D-4 in this wash." And what would we use to remove the D-4? A bigger bulldozer, say a D-9?

We waited while Fred fiddled with the D-4's controls. After about ten minutes, he said "I need to take this back to the shop. If we continue and it gets damaged, then I'll be in deep shit with the boss. I can get it to turn, but not under load. So, I figure that if we go now, we can get out by dark, get it fixed and come back tomorrow and finish up." Thinking about another walk out of the canyon in the dark, I concluded that Fred's idea was the conservative approach.

Off we went at the D-4's snail pace. I elected to walk. When we reached the front range of the hills, Bob used the phone patch to call the rental yard. The truck, and Joe, was waiting when we arrived. The dozer was loaded without incident and, for the third time that day, I watch the truck disappear into the dust. I climbed into the dreaded back seat in the cruiser and we went back to the yard. Bob's last command was "Tomorrow. 0800 sharp".

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