CH 5 Escape

Chapter 5 Escape

With everything packed in the fifth-wheel or stashed in the storage unit, we were off. We packed up and moved so fast many of the neighbors didn’t know we had left. Others just stood there shaking their heads, bewildered. I was never good at saying goodbye. I’m sure it’s a part of my way of dealing with loss.  I didn’t want to look back. I’m sure my friends felt betrayed, but I just couldn’t linger; I couldn’t face everything and everyone I was losing. A bit of denial I know, but I could only handle so much, and I had reached my limit.

The drive up the canyon was winding and steep.  Chad was pulling the fifth-wheel with his white Ford truck, and I followed behind him in the SUV pulling a trailer loaded with a four-wheeler and a canoe. The views were breathtaking and the trees went on forever. It was incredibly green and the air was crisp and clean. I tried to put everything behind me and out of my mind. It felt good; I felt free. My escape plan was working wonderfully.

The little campground was located literally at the top of the mountain at an elevation of 9400 feet—once past the campground the road gradually leads down to a small town called Tabiona. Just as we began to crest the mountain, we saw the sign “Wolf Creek Campground”. The entrance to the campground was blocked by a gate made of long metal poles. Chad pulled off the road, unlocked the chains, and rolled open the gate. It was mid-day late in June and there were still patches of snow on the ground. It was chilly. I shivered as I made a quick survey of the area and realized this would be our new home for the next two months. I took a deep breath and my lungs filled with fresh crisp air scented with the smell of pine trees. I had forgotten how good it felt to breathe deep, and as I did, I held it hoping to capture this moment as long as I could. I held it until I felt my lungs would explode, and as I released the air from my lungs I felt the tension release from my shoulders. Things had been so hard, and I was so grateful for this one breath and this one moment.

I parked the car next to our camp site and then guided Chad as he backed the fifth-wheel into its place. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly and smoothly he can back things into even the snuggest of places. As silly as it sounds, the way he could maneuver large equipment always gave me a sense of security.

The truck and the trailer made a perfect fit nestled in the middle of the trees. It was like nature had been preparing a place for us. The tall strong trees hovered gently over the trailer like fingers of a warm loving hand. The place seemed to welcome us like a friend. As I looked around, I could feel God’s love among His creations. The gentle breeze whispered to me and the majestic mountains offered God’s strength and his never changing truths.

Behind the trailer was the perfect outside patio.  There was a concrete pad large enough to accommodate several chairs, a fire pit in the middle, and a picnic table on one side. Chad lowered the jacks, leveled the trailer, and then unhitched the truck. I pulled out the metal stairs beneath the door and placed a large black rubber mat on the ground. With just a push of a button, the kitchen area slowly slid out.  It didn’t take long to get set up, thank goodness, or the kids probably would have lynched us.  They were anxious to run and play.  They had no interest in the toys they had brought along in their two little boxes.

We explored the upper campground first. There were huge pine trees and tons of quaking aspens that rustled in the wind. There was a fairly large amphitheater terraced with long log benches that tapered down to a concrete stage. Danielle immediately headed for the stage which was just who she was. She danced and twirled with her long blond hair flowing in the wind while Jared eagerly searched nearby for creepy crawly creatures. I sat in the audience and watched in awe. We walked down to the lower campground where we discovered a small stream. A small wooden bridge crossed the stream to the other side. It was gray and weathered, but sturdy. Watching my kids as they excitedly explored the world around them was more amazing than words can express. At that moment I had it all. I had everything I ever needed or ever wanted and nothing else mattered.

Chad went to work each day at about 5:00 a.m. He picked up a few framing jobs in Heber and Park City which was forty five minutes from the campground. He returned each afternoon usually around 3:00 except on a few occasions when he had to work late. The kids and I looked forward each day to his return so we could share our stories and adventures with him. He was my rock and I knew that I could always count on him to fix whatever went wrong during the day and to lend a supportive shoulder to lean on as well.

On the days Chad had off, we would go hiking, fishing, or 4-wheeling together. Chad was so comfortable and confident in the outdoors. I could let down my guard and just relax and not worry about a thing. I trusted him to protect us and keep us safe from any harm—real or imagined. It was a nice feeling to be near him. I loved his touch when he would put his arm around me or when he would gently hold my hand.

On the weekdays when Chad was at work, the kids and I had so many wonderful adventures. Each morning we would wake up early and get our chores done. It took less than a half hour to clean the whole trailer. I had to be creative to make it last even that long. Most days we would take the back road to Mill Creek Reservoir. I would make sure the canoe was securely loaded on the trailer and then hook it to the SUV. The scenery along the 16 mile narrow dirt road never lost its allure.  I imagined I was in another country—Denmark or Switzerland. During July, the grassy meadows were splashed with wild flowerers in the most brilliant yellows, purples, and whites. They made the most unbelievable bouquet of flowers. When we rounded the last turn towards the reservoir, it was a breathtaking sight. The water was calm and I could see the reflection of the mountains and the trees. As we got closer, I spotted a small foot path which circled around the lake through the trees.

When we went to the reservoir we spent the entire day there. Most of the days I would find a nice spot among the trees part of the way around the lake and read to the kids for as long as I could keep their attention sometimes they would listen for over an hour. The kids never got tired of throwing rocks in the water. They loved watching the splash and the ripples that followed.  We often waded along the shore. Only once did we go swimming because it was so insanely cold. The kids swam until their lips turned blue and then we dried ourselves off on a large warm rock in the afternoon sun. The kids loved paddling around the lake in the canoe and dipping their hands in the water.

Danielle’s favorite thing to do at the reservoir was fish. The first few times were spent untangling the lines and figuring out how to bait the hook with those slimy squirmy worms. Chad had given me the run down on how to gut the fish. He assured me that I couldn’t just wait until he got there. By the end of the summer I had successfully gutted and cleaned eleven fish. I gave up on the worms when I discovered Power Bait. It comes in small jars in different colors. It is soft and moldable like putty.  It is bright and colorful, and it doesn’t wiggle when you put it on the hook.      

Fish wasn’t the only wildlife we encountered. We caught a huge salamander in a small pond by our trailer. It was over six inches long. It was the granddaddy of all salamanders and looked like something from a sci-fi movie. It was slimy and dark green almost black color. It looked like a snake with hands and feet. I jumped at the first sight of it, but Jared didn’t even hesitate when he reached under the swampy water and snatched it with his bare hands. The kids were so excited with their new pet. They named him Sammy. We kept him for about a week until our friend Brad, the one who first suggested the whole camp host idea, came to visit and explained that we shouldn’t keep the wildlife as pets because they will most likely die. After much convincing, Jared reluctantly agreed to let Sammy go. We caught and released tons of pollywogs and frogs from the same pond as Sammy.  One night around the campfire we spotted a weasel that casually wandered past as if to say hello.  

It was Danielle who spotted the most impressive wildlife.  She had an encounter she will never forget.  We were playing a game on one of our hikes near the campground. It was a game I made up—kind of a variation of hide-and-seek. One person would go ahead on the trail and hide, then they would try to scare the rest us when we came along. This time it was Danielle’s turn to hide. She ran ahead, crouched behind a bush a little way off of the trail, and was patiently waiting. She giggled under her breath as she imagined scaring her little brother.  A scrapping noise startled her. She slowly turned her head to see a huge bear standing on his back legs scratching a tree. At nine years old, Danielle felt small, vulnerable, and scared! The bear stopped and sniffed in the air.  Danielle was horrified at the sight of the bears long curved claws. 

Unable to breathe, she quietly and carefully scrambled towards the trail.  As soon as she dared, she ran. When she reached me, her eyes were wide with fear in them.  She was trembling and jittery. I could feel and hear the panic in her voice as she simultaneously tried to warn me and pull me down the trail, “There’s a bear!” she shouted in a whisper as she tugged on my hand. I resisted her pull and I tried to get her to calm down and tell me what was going on, but she persisted. “We have to go!” She refused to give me any details until we were back in the safety of our trailer.

Life was simple those two short months at Wolf Creek—it was just what I needed. Sometimes I missed the convenience of a long hot shower or soaking in a big Jacuzzi tub, but now I had time —time with the people who meant the most to me. We had more visitors in those two short months at Wolf Creek than we had in all the nine years we lived in Heber. Friends and neighbors came to visit. They came and camped at the campground, went on hikes, had Dutch-oven dinners, roasted marshmallows, and visited around the campfire. I enjoyed my sisters’ visits the most. Sara came with her seven kids, and we had a blast with the kids. Two of Sara’s kids were the same age as my kids.  Samuel was two months younger than Danielle and Mark was two months older than Jared.  They loved their cousins.  We didn’t have to tell the kids to be quiet, stop running around, or not to touch anything. It was fun watching them run and play together—far better than any amusement park.

My sister Diane also visited. She stopped by and stayed for a night while she was in Salt Lake City for a conference. She was on the local search and rescue team in Green River, Utah where she lived. She was the sister that I most wanted to be like when we were growing up. She loved the outdoors—camping, hiking, fishing, and river rafting.  I remember one time when we were growing up, she built this structure out in the fields behind our home made out of long wood poles, mud, and grass. She called it a wikiup. It sort of looked like a teepee. Sara and I wanted to play in it, but Diane forbade us. She didn’t want her little sisters bugging her—plus I think it was her hiding place to smoke a cigarette or two.

Diane had been a coal miner, a carpenter, a surveyor for the DOT, and on the search and rescue with her dog, Hope, a German Shepard.  When Diane would visit with Hope, she would have my kids hide and Hope go and find them. It was amazing how quickly Hope would sniff the kids out from wherever they were hidden. Hope was very well trained. Diane never had any kids, so Hope was her child. 

Diane seemed confident in who she was. She was rough and tough. She didn’t care much for fancy stuff.  She didn’t need a man as some women do. She was OK to go off on her own and explore the outdoors. If her husband came along, that was a bonus, but if he didn’t come, it wouldn’t stop her from going places and doing things. I enjoyed her visit, and the kids enjoyed playing hide and seek with Hope.          

Laura and her husband Dave came and visited as well.  Laura hated camping and everyone knew it, so I was surprised when she showed up with all the supplies—a huge tent, camping stove, flashlights, lanterns, and a pocket knife.  I couldn’t believe it. She spent nearly a thousand dollars which would ultimately end up being the most expensive one night camping trips I’d ever heard of. It was quite amusing watching her and Dave pitch the tent. It just seemed odd. Not that she was bad at it, because she wasn’t. It was just not her. Laura was strong and active, but camping, bugs, and dirt didn’t sit well with her.  It wasn’t long before she had her tent set up like a mini Ritz Carlton complete with a welcome mat. It was fun and comforting when my sisters visited.

I loved everything about being at Wolf Creek except one thing—cleaning the outhouses.  I hated even using them, and now it was my job to clean them. The campground management company supplied me with the cleaners, air fresheners, gloves, buckets, and a toilet brush. I bought a heavy duty spray nozzle and attached it to an industrial hose Chad had given me from his arsenal of construction equipment. I couldn’t imagine carrying buckets of water. It didn’t take me long to get a system down.

Each morning I’d load up the four-wheeler with the hose and the cleaning supplies. Danielle’s job was to drive the four-wheeler. She wouldn’t go near the outhouse. She had a very weak stomach. I remember the first time she volunteered to change her brother’s diaper.  At five years old, she learned what dry heaves were. She didn’t know what was happening to her body as it involuntarily convulsed. At nine, she still had a weak stomach. 

We arrived at the last of the three outhouses to be cleaned. Danielle parked the four-wheeler and waited outside for me to do the dirty work. I propped open the heavy metal door with a large rock. The cool fresh air filtered in and diluted the unpleasant smell. I put on my yellow rubber gloves and dumped a half a cup of air freshener directly into the toilet. The first few times I did this job I cringed when I looked down into the black hole that was piled high with…. well, crap. Sometimes the mound was way down there and I hardly noticed it, and sometimes at the end of the week before the pooper truck came and pumped it out, it was near the top. Today was the end of a busy week.

 With the air freshener already at work, I hooked up the hose and doused the entire room with water—something I had wished I could do with my bathroom at home.  I then cleaned the floor and the walls and sprayed the room out again.  The fresh air mixed with the cool damp water and the smell of cleaner helped me gear up for the worst part—the toilet cleaning. I had already sprayed the toilet twice with water and sanitizer while doing the other cleaning.  I cleaned the outside and then the seat with a clean rag.  Then I scrubbed the inside.  Just as I was finishing up, my heart sank as the toilet brush slipped from my hand and fell into the hole. The management company had warned me repeatedly that toilet paper was the only thing that should be put into the toilets—anything else would ruin the pump truck even the smallest object. There were large warning signs in each bathroom. 

I peered over the rim of the toilet seat and saw the brush. It stuck straight up like a single candle on top of a birthday cake. My heart was sickened by the thought that entered my mind, “I could probably get it.” I took a deep breath as I neared the toilet. I bent over and leaned in being careful not to touch any part of it.   My fingers were just inches from the handle. The one thing I hadn’t taken into account was that the floor was still wet and slippery.  

I slipped.  It was only a few inches, but it was enough to lodge my shoulders in the toilet. I was stuck—really stuck! Not to mention I was less than a few feet from …..ewe. I tried desperately to wiggle myself free but it was no use. As hard as I tried, nothing was budging. My fear and anxiety level was rising as I realized I was not going to get out of here on my own.  I cried out for Danielle to come help me. She was not prepared for what she saw when she came into the bathroom. Upon seeing the back side of her mother half swallowed by the toilet, she froze. Her instincts told her to run. “I’ll go get someone,” she said as she began to exit the outhouse. “NO!” I quickly responded, “I need you to help me.”  I could hear the hesitation in her voice her voice. She was my only hope and I couldn’t let her leave. “Dani, I need you to help me.” I said sternly. She reluctantly got close enough to put her little arms around my waist. She pulled and tugged, but nothing budged. “Crap!” I muttered in my mind.

“I’ll go get someone.” Danielle said as she sped away.  I kept pulling and wiggling until I felt a little movement.  I grit my teeth as my arms scrapped the side of the toilet and I was released from its grip.  Danielle was about 100 yards off when I yelled to her. She was relieved when she saw me walking towards her, but she kept her distance. And yes, I did get the brush out of the toilet. I told Danielle not to tell her dad. I was embarrassed.  Even though I showered and scrubbed, I still felt defiled. When Chad came home, Danielle said, “I can’t tell you what happened today.” 

Life was simple those two short months at Wolf Creek—it was just what I needed.  Sometimes I missed the convenience of a long hot shower or soaking in a big Jacuzzi tub, but time was what I had now—time with the people who meant the most to me. 

We had more visitors in those two short months at Wolf Creek than we had in all the nine years we lived in Heber.  Friends and neighbors came to visit. They came and camped at the campground, went on hikes, had dutch-oven dinners, roasted marshmallows, and visited around the campfire.  But I enjoyed my sisters’ visits the most. Sara came with her seven kids, and we had a blast especially the kids.  We didn’t have to tell them to be quiet or stop running around or not to touch anything.  It was fun watching them run and play together.  It was better by far than any amusement park. 

My sister Diane also visited.  She stopped by and stayed for a night while she was in Salt Lake City for a search and rescue conference. She was on the local search and rescue team in Green River, Utah where she lived.  She was the sister that I most wanted to be like when we were growing up.  She loved the outdoors—camping, hiking, fishing…..   I remember one time when we were growing up, she built this little structure out in the fields behind our home made out of long wood poles, mud, and grass—she called it a wikieup.  It sort of looked like a teepee.  Sara and I wanted to play in it, but Diane forbid us.  She didn’t want her little sisters bugging her—plus I think it was her hiding place to smoke a cigarette or two. 

Diane was a coal miner, a carpenter, a surveyor for the DOT, and on the search and rescue with her dog, Hope, a German Shepard.    When Diane would visit with Hope, she would have my kids hide and Hope go and find them.  It was pretty amazing how quickly Hope would sniff the kids out from wherever they were hidden.  Hope was very well trained.  Diane never had any kids—Hope was her child.    

Diane seemed confident in who she was. She was rough and tough and didn’t care too much for prissy girl stuff.   She didn’t need a man as some women do.  She was OK to go off on her own and explore the out-doors, and if her husband came along, that was a bonus, but if he didn’t come, it wouldn’t stop her from going places and doing things.  I’m sure she wished he was there and missed him when he didn’t come along.   I enjoyed her visit, and the kids enjoyed playing with Hope.   

Laura and her husband Dave came and visited as well.   Laura hated camping and everyone knew it, so I was surprised when she showed up with all the supplies—a nice huge tent, camping stove, flashlights, lanterns, pocket knives ….. I couldn’t believe it.  She spent nearly a thousand dollars which would ultimately end up being the most expensive one night camping trip I’d ever heard of.  It was quite amusing watching her and Dave pitch the tent. It just seemed odd.  Not that she was bad at it, because she wasn’t, it was just not her.  Laura was strong and active, but camping, bugs, and dirt didn’t sit well with her.   It wasn’t long before she had her tent set up like a mini Ritz Carlton complete with a welcome mat. 

At any other point in her life I would have thought she was crazy, but this was just one of much craziness that she experienced as she was trying to deal with life without her boy.  She just didn’t know who she was anymore or what life was about anymore.  The hole in her heart was still very real and still very painful. It had been eight months since he passed away, and there were still days when she found it hard to get out of bed.  She became quiet as she sat next to me after dinner in the trailer.  Everyone else was off doing their own things.  “I still miss him,” she softly whispered.  She kept her gaze on the linoleum floor of the trailer as the tears escaped from her eyes. “Me too,” I replied.