Big losses and even bigger gains in Utah, Chapter 2: From bad to worse
We had such a traumatic situation occur, that we did something we only do in the most dire circumstances. We recorded ourselves on video! So, if you'd like to watch our video recaps, they will be listed at the end of each blog post when applicable.
We thought we had successfully avoided a dangerous situation. Floodwaters were rushing into our campsite and, after some quick thinking, we were able to get us, our truck, and our trailer safely out of the water. We went across the campground loop to higher ground, where we pulled over so we could finish packing and decide our next move. We had bought ourselves time, but it wouldn't be long before the waters reached that side of the campground, so we still needed to be quick. We got out of the truck and headed toward the trailer to run inside and pack, only as soon as I turned towards the trailer, I saw that something was terribly wrong.
Our trailer had sunk into soft dirt and the passenger side tires were down a foot deep, causing the trailer to tilt. Besides some shallow tire tracks further back on the patch of grass, we had no reason to think the ground was that soft. It wasn't wet yet and we barely felt it move beneath our feet when we walked on it. We neither felt nor heard anything when we pulled over into that spot. The dirt was so soft and our trailer so heavy that the wheels created their own trench, and in they went.
I had flashbacks to our maiden voyage, just three days after taking delivery of our trailer. We tried to make a tight turn, failed miserably, and wound up bottoming our passenger side into a ditch. The back corner of our trailer dug into the pavement and our trim got dented. Now, here we were again, passenger side getting the brunt of the ground underneath it, only this time, it was a conscious choice to pull over. Logically, it makes sense. We didn't want to block the road with our trailer, especially since our neighbors hadn't left yet and the camphost or other vehicles might need to come through. I can totally see why we'd think that way in a crisis. In reality, we weren't going to be there long and we probably wouldn't have blocked the entire width of the road, so we could have just stayed on the road with our hazards on. But then what if someone tried to go around us and wound up stuck in the soft grass? At least we would be able to still take our truck...at least we thought. The rear passenger wheel was starting to sink as well, and every attempt to get our trailer out made it sink even further.
I hated the idea of leaving Buggy behind, knowing that the water would likely reach him overnight. I begged Anthony to try just a few more ways of getting him out. We dug the tires out as much as possible and tried wedging wooden boards under them, but they were sunk so far that we couldn't get them to budge. I had to face the fact that, if we wanted the truck to be able to get out of the trench, we needed to stop spinning its tires in futile attempts to free the trailer. Resigned to Buggy's fate, I told Anthony to go let the camphost know what was happening, and I'd run back over to our neighbors' site to make sure they didn't need help.
The neighbors had decided to stay and wait until the water got closer to their site (it was already about 10 feet away), and meanwhile enjoy their campfire until it died out...like it wouldn't get doused in the floods anyway. They were driving a small, old pickup that no way had the hemi of our Clyde. I don't think they quite knew what they were getting themselves into, but if they wanted to try to leave at midnight during peak flood levels, I couldn't stop them. We had just made a bad situation worse with getting our trailer stuck and I felt responsible. I needed to go and make things as right as possible, and the only way I could do that was focus on getting my family and truck out of harm's way.
Meanwhile, Anthony arrived to our camphost Jim's motorhome, which was parked on the highest ground of the park in anticipation for the inevitable evacuation. Jim clearly treated his RV like the captain's helm, and he would be the last to be saved when all was sinking. Even though he knew what was coming in the next few days, he had no idea that the floods had already started wreaking havoc. He was fast asleep and awoken by Anthony's knock at the door. Anthony informed him of the situation, and Jim groggily tried to ask questions. Were we able to get out? Can we get the truck out? Are our neighbors still there? Are they aware of what's happening? Do we need any help? Anthony told him that we just needed to grab some stuff and try to get our truck out of there.
I was starting to worry that any movement inside the trailer would cause it to sink more, and so we were extremely careful going inside to grab our things for the night. We didn't grab much, opting to not even worry about a change of clothes. Trying to walk around inside a trailer that's a foot down on the right is really challenging. We kept falling and tripping over things. I quickly went back outside as to not create extra movement, while Anthony packed some food for the animals. At that point, Jim had driven over to us to offer help. I told him we were fine, and I was just mad. I felt like we had done everything right, from monitoring the water levels, to leaving when we needed, but still wound up in a terrible situation. Jim apologized, but it wasn’t his fault. We all thought we knew when the water levels would rise, but the river had other plans. That’s nature; we can only predict it so much. Jim asked us what he could do, and we knew he wouldn’t back down until he felt useful. So we asked him to grab the harps as Anthony handed them out the door. Hardly the time to get into why we travel with two harps. We then closed up the trailer and got ready to try and unhitch the truck.
A few problems were at play here. First, we’d be unhitching at a major angle. Second, we’d be relying on our tongue jack to take way more force than it’s rated for, and it’s not even a strong jack to begin with. Third, our hitch wasn’t sitting correctly on our truck and we knew it needed to be adjusted. We just hadn’t gotten around to having a professional look at it. And fourth, even if we could get unhitched, we still didn’t know if our truck was stuck. We began lowering the tongue jack and raising the hitch, and to our pleasant surprise, the jack didn’t warp or pop as it extended. It’s popped sometimes when unhitching in a normal campsite! The angle as it pressed into the ground did bend the edge of the plate slightly, but this was the least of our problems. Now we just needed the ball to drop out of the coupler, and it was hanging on for dear life. Anthony decided to try and aid the release by jumping up on the back bumper and hopping up and down to shimmy it. It worked. The ball released and Clyde was free! Time to put the new tires to good use. Anthony set the gear to 4 low and gunned it. The truck got right out of the trench and made it look easy! Finally, a small win. We might be leaving Buggy behind, but we were able to drive to safety.
We exchanged numbers with Jim and asked him to keep us posted. Then we started searching for pet-friendly hotels that wouldn’t mind us waltzing in at midnight. We watched the floodwaters and knew we still had a little time, and so we stayed parked at the campground while we called hotels. There wasn’t much cell service in the area and we didn’t want to risk moving. We first called a Quality Inn about 20 minutes away, but they had no vacancy. Looks like we’d be searching the Provo area, about 30 minutes north. We called the Comfort Inn and the guy on the reservation line let us know that yes, there was availability for the night.
We had hoped for a quick registration, but this guy was not getting the memo. Instead of just letting us head to the hotel and register at the front desk, he took us through every single step of the reservation process, some parts more than once! We understand that, in training, the employees probably learn a script that they're supposed to follow, but it was midnight on a Sunday, and two people are trying to get a last-minute room with their dog and cat. Does that sound like a situation where people want to sit and chat for a half hour?
We were asked which type of room we want, king or two queens. Then we were asked if we were loyalty members. Then we were asked to hold on for "one to two minutes" while he verified that our chosen room was, in fact, available. The hold was more like five minutes. When he came back on the line, he proceeded to tell us that yes, our room was available, and then ask for all our information: Name, address, email, name of every member of our extended family. Okay, not that last one, but he asked a lot of information. Then the key question: "Are you visiting us for business or pleasure?" This is where I just couldn't keep quiet anymore. I said to the guy, "Look, we're coming to the hotel because it's an emergency. We're escaping a flood and need to leave our RV behind, so if you could hurry up, we really just want to get to the hotel as soon as possible." He responded with nervous laughter, but my outburst didn't seem to make him scrap his script. He continued on, letting us know how much our room was costing (he had already told us this once) and what the deposit would be. He then began telling us the cancellation policy, to which I interrupted and again said, "Sir, we aren't going to cancel. As soon as we hang up we'll be on our way, and we'll be there in a half-hour." More nervous laughter. He then began telling us about the pet policy, letting us know (again for the second time) that there would be a pet fee of $20 per pet per night. Seriously dude, we'd pay $500 for this room if it meant we could get out of these floods! He then let us know that it's a maximum of two pets. I told him, "It's not like we're gonna go adopt a puppy on our way up there. We only have the two pets!" Nervous laughter again. And then the kicker. As if his spiel wasn't enough, he then started telling us about the loyalty rewards program, wondering if we wanted to become members. I lost it. "SIR. We are literally sitting in floodwaters right now because if we move we'll lose cell service. We need to get out of here RIGHT NOW. Is our room booked? It is? Then okay, we are hanging up now. Goodbye. We'll be at the hotel in a half-hour." He tries to speak. "Goodbye."
"Oh, um OK" *nervous laughter*
"Yep, hanging up now. Bye bye."
And I hung up.
Even in the middle of our crisis, we were aware what an insanely hilarious story that would become, and we can only hope that his supervisor will listen to that call that "may be recorded for quality assurance purposes" and that he'll learn a valuable lesson that sometimes, it's OK to go off-script!
And with that, we could finally make the middle-of-the-night drive up to Provo. We waved bye to Buggy, hoped for the best, and drove away.
To be continued...
Associated videos:
Live streaming from the hotel room the next morning