White Knuckler

This past weekend we drove up to Sequoia to meet my parents.  It took us quite a bit longer than we anticipated.  We were anxious to get there and really didn’t notice our gas gauge was almost on empty.  Our new car has this cool little thing-a-ma-jig that lets us know how many miles we have left before we run out of gas.  As we were driving along the mountainside we saw a sign that said “Sequoia National Park, 35 miles.”  We then looked at our dashboard and noticed that we only had 29 miles left of petrol.  (Not good.)  You have to understand, we were in the middle of nowhere.  (Very not good.)  And there are BEARS in Sequoia.  (Extra very not good.)  We saw a sign that said “Pinehurst, 5 miles” and decided to take a fork in the road that led to Pinehurst.  We descended elevation quickly, coasting in neutral as much as possible, on a wing and a prayer that Pinehurst would have a gas station.  It turns out, the only thing in Pinehurst besides a few log cabins was an old lodge for passersby to stop in and have some booze.  The ‘gentleman’ behind the bar told Kevin that the closest gas station was one we’d passed by thirty minutes ago and it was surely closed by now.  He said the closest gas station that would be open was about sixty miles away.  (More bad news.)  The best bet for us, he said, was to try to make it to Lodgepole.  He offered no more helpful advice, so we begin climbing the mountain again, Kevin clutching the wheel and me clutching my seat. 

We hardly spoke at all because we were both tense.  By this time, it was past ten o’clock at night.  I was silently planning out what we could do . . . we could either go as far as we could until we died and then hike the rest of the way OR we could just pull over to the side of the road and sleep, trying to ignore the thought of hungry bears prowling around us.  That last thought caused me to involuntarily shudder.  (I've seen pictures where bears have mauled through cars because they've smelled the scent of a tube of toothpaste or food items left in the trunk.)

Periodically, on our ascent, I would glance at the gauge that told us how many miles we had left until we ran out of gas.  19 . . . 18 . . . 17 . . . 16 . . . 15 . . . and then it stopped and started blinking wildly as if to tell us DANGER, WE CANNOT COUNT FOR YOU ANYMORE.  As we continued on our way, I told Kevin I felt like the astronauts in Apollo 13 as all the systems were starting to shut down. 

When it seemed as if we would be in NEVADA at any moment, we finally made it to the entrance of the park.  No one told us that it would be at least another hour to Lodgepole.  Every mile was an answer to prayer.  I remarked to Kevin, “Who needs gas when we have God?”  Kevin replied, “I’m sure that God doesn’t appreciate our stupidity.”  (We both felt irresponsible for forgetting to fuel up earlier in the day.)  Incredibly, we made it to the campsite!!  It was such a relief.  It was pitch dark (nearly 11:30) when we arrived and I think my parents had given up on us and had gone to bed.  We laughed with joy as we stumbled through the rocky campsite.  Although we’d have to set up our tent in the dark, at least we wouldn’t have to sleep in the car.  And that was cause for much delight.  I still will never figure out how we made it all the way.  Unless the mileage countdown gizmo was wrong, it surely must have been a bona fide miracle. 

. . . The highlights of the weekend, for us, included hiking up to the top of a waterfall (which has now dwindled down to a trickle) and playing in a bunch of little pools with the little kids.  David ‘accidentally’ slid into one of the pools and soon the rest of them jumped in to cool off.  We also enjoyed watching the constellations with Betsy and Steve.  Every ten seconds or so, we’d see shooting stars.  It was like our own little God-made fireworks show.  Kevin was amazed at the giant forest.  The General Sherman tree is the largest living THING in the world.  We drove our car (now fully gassed) through the center of a tree and got pictures.  Fun times.