In Too Deep — Unruly Skoolie

Flagstaff or Durango first? That’s the choice we had to make as we reunited with The Unruly back in ABQ. Durango it is. We head north on 550 which is a looooooooong and lonesome but beautiful stretch of highway. We cruised for hours, gaining elevation, pleased with how the bus charged up the hills unphased. (Thanks, Summit.) We watched the landscape change from tans and golds to reds and oranges. Horses and cows dotted the vast landscape of reservations and eventually, as the sun set, we found ourselves in Bloomfield, New Mexico, enjoying some chicken fried steak at a local greasy spoon and beaming to be back in our rig and back on the road. The wind was back in our sails.

We decide to make it to some BLM land just north of Navajo Lake State Park. I wish I could comment on how striking the dam and lake are, but it was extremely dark and we carefully made our way over huge hills and around sharp turns trying our best to find the alleged BLM land… the road atlas and Google maps were useless at this point. We were in the middle of nowhere and all roads off the main one looked a little too wet and muddy to attempt with our 20k pound mothership. It was getting late though and we were getting a little frustrated turning onto one road after another only to have to slowly back out and continue on waiting for a safe spot to park that wasn’t coming.

Then we found one. We pulled through a cattle gate and drove a little way in, but then…. wait… this looks bad. Just keep going, its fine. And suddenly, I feel the bus sliding underneath us. My foot is on and off the break and Im trying to steer but the bus is slowly fishtailing this way and that. Panicked, I stop. Shit. “Shit!” Phoenix repeats. Shit. Skeets gets out and scouts the road. He decides that we keep going forward and try to turn around and come out in a small loop he found in the darkness. My heart in in my throat. I already know we’re screwed but Im trying to keep it together for Phoenix- he’s asking me what’s happening, whats wrong… he knows something’s up.

It’s almost 11pm and we work our way through the thick mud around the loop, but when we try to make it up the last stretch, a small little hill, the bus begins to slide again, down and backwards and sideways. The tires are spinning in place, and we’re sunk down deep. “Fuck!” “Fuck!” repeats Phoenix, elated to be sharing in the expletives, somehow knowing we have bigger problems than his budding vocabulary. Ugh. We’re definitely screwed and Im a little ashamed to say that I was kind of losing it. I was scared and I felt like a bad mother. We were stuck in the mud just a few hours after getting the bus back from the shop. We were in the middle of nowhere with no cell service and no plan on how the hell we were getting out. Skeets assured me that we were safe. We had food, water and our bed. We were together and come morning, we would call out and get the baddest tractor or crew of trucks to pull us the hell out of there. Or maybe we’d have to wait a couple of days until the road dried. But what if it rained or snowed again. Fuck. We’re screwed. And we’re idiots.

We went to sleep defeated and Skeets and I both dreamed of the bus getting stuck in worse mud and unfathomable dilemmas. It was a cold night, but we huddled together and stayed warm and when dawn broke I opened my eyes, remembering where we were and taking a minute to hide under the blankets from the sad day ahead.

Skeets got out to look around and shortly after I got up to run the heater. “I think we can get out,” he said. “The ground.. it's frozen hard.” Oh my god. Could it be? Phoenix was still blissfully asleep, snuggled deep in the blankets so I stepped out onto the before muddy and soggy road to find that he was right! The ground was hard! “We’re gonna make it out.” But we had to go right then, else risk the sun coming up fully and thawing the whole thing back to mush. Skeets dug out the back tire that was damn near fully in cased and I put it in low gear and hit the gas. It didn’t move at first, but a little bit back and a little bit forward and in just a few seconds I was triumphantly hauling our tiny but mighty home out of the trenches and back into safe territory.

We were elated and hugged and high-fived and hugged some more. We had been saved by the cold, by the mountain itself. We needed a break and we were granted mercy. Phoenix slept through it all and didn’t wake up until we were happily landed in Durango. We spent a pleasant day wandering Main Street, taking in some beers at the Animas Brewery and musing and laughing about our good fortunes. The wind was indeed back in our sails, and we vowed to be more conservative with our back country choices.

All I need are hot springs and micro-breweries. Skeets notices that the town smells of brewing beer...

We find ourselves tonight at Miller Creek Campground about 20 miles outside of Durango on a beautifully clear lake with snowy mountains all around. It’s not too cold and we are enchanted with what we've seen of the clean, friendly and hip town of Durango. Could this be a new place for us to call home?

May our questions be answered if we allow all answers to come.