The Valley of Death -Flat in the Middle of Nowhere

Friday, September 04, 2009
Hanksville, Utah, United States


The quickest way to our next destination at Capitol Reef
National Park would have been to backtrack a short distance east to the main
road . But we had a big SUV and rental one to boot, which means we should take
the more direct (at least on the map) 4WD road through the desert. I do not
know the name of this area but nicknamed it myself as “The Valley of Death” for
its bleak gray gravelly scenery and our misfortune there.

Doug was at the wheel and probably about a half hour or so
out of Goblin Valley, after just fording a stream, we had a punctured tire in
the middle of nowhere. We’re going to die! Actually, this feels like déjà vu all
over again (as Yogi Berra would have said). In either 1997 or 1998 I took a
trip to Utah with my brother in a rental SUV and we experienced a flat tire
heading down the Schafer Trail. The Schafer Trail is the spectacular and
dangerous unpaved road in Canyonlands National Park that runs between the top
of the Islands in the Sky area of the park and the lower area around the
Colorado River near Moab. One difference is that the Schafer Trail is fairly
heavily traveled, while here we had not seen a car since we left Goblin Valley .

I am not very mechanically inclined, but I suppose if my
life depended on it I could probably figure out how to change a tire if I had
good instructions on how to do so like the ones we found in the glove
compartment. Or I might just hang out in the shade of the car like a damsel in
distress and wait until the sun was lower to trek the 10 or 15 miles to the
main road. Fortunately, Doug had changed tires before and somewhat knew what to
do. I just provided the brute force to lift up the car until all the work had
been completed and the new tire was on…… Well, not really. Like a good
photojournalist, though, I documented our brush with death in the desert with
pictures.

Once we had out little replacement tire on we managed to
make it out to the main road and a small junction town named Hanksville. What I
recall about Hanksville is of having my friends photograph me making obscene
hand gestures towards a sign with the town’s name on my 1999 trip to area,
which took place only about seven months after my falling out with my psycho-boss
in Wyoming whose name was Hank. Hanksville is so small, though, that there was
no service station open on a weekend to change a tire. So we instead had to
backtrack 50 miles or so to I-70 to Green River where had spent the previous
night. I should mention that Green River is a real dump of a town that has
little reason for being other than as a truck stop on a 200 mile stretch of
highway between anything resembling a real town .

Doug and I purchased a new tire, and he decided to make no
mention of it to the rental car company, it being very likely they’d ever
notice or trace it to him. And Doug is now grounded for the remainder of the
trip. He is not permitted to drive on any unpaved roads. I drive on unpaved
roads all the time in the West and have never had a flat. He’s 2-fer-2 now when
it comes to getting flat tires on trips in the back country in Utah.

We drove back and made it to Torrey, just to the west of
Capital Reef, where we found an overpriced motel room next to a pizza joint
that also served a fair selection of microbrews. What is it with names in this
part of Utah? Hanksville on one side and Torrey on the other! Torrey was the
name of another manager whom I didn’t get on too well with at that same gig in
Wyoming where Hank was the psycho-boss.

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