I am the mother of this beauty, kellie, who was born when I was l6. Here is a story about us

Labor Day Weekend 2000

The weekend campout started down in Southern Humboldt County, Northern California. We were camping with a group of friends. Party over, we left for home on Labor Day. Our trunk held camping equipment, ice in the cooler and one leftover T-bone steak.

A very hot day but the journey back home was a straightshot up the freeway. We had half a tank of gas and were good to go. When one of my buddies handed me a cookie, I thought why not, and nibbled a piece.

Being it was Labor Day, the highway was crowded. I remembered there was a backroad that could get us home along a more scenic alternate. Daughter had never driven that route, but I had many times, so we veered off the exit and went offroad.

We were chatting, laughing about something and came to a fork in the road. She mentioned the sign had an arrow pointing to our eventual
destination. But I had driven the road and I knew it was the left fork so kept going in that direction. A serious flaw.

The road was as I remembered for about l0 miles.
But as we started to dip down into a new valley, it narrowed considerably, then turned into dirt and sharp rocks. Looming suddenly at our side were a group of big Longhorned cattle. They looked like yaks. They stared silently as we careened by.

Our adventure had turned more complicated. "Are you sure this is the way?" she asked suspiciously. Not wanting to worry her, I remained unperterbed. "Yes, all the roads lead back up to the top and eventually we will come out where we are supposed to." She was not comforted.

Minutes ticked by. The road dipped down and back up over the undulating mountain range. We could not turn around, it was now further in miles than going forward. My gas tank was starting to register red. Still I did not panic. Afterall, I was a mountain girl, had camping equipment in the back, had meat, and matches.

Then we saw a sign ahead. "No Trespassing. You are now entering the *****range, a private hunting preserve. Only members of this gun club are allowed." Uh oh! At this point, we were driving on fumes, fearing gunshot at every turn.

As the car jerked down the road, dust flying, I knew we were in dire straits but still remained calm. Perhaps it was that cookie. Daughter was showing serious anxiety.

Way up at the top of the next range, I saw a ranch and thought, ok, we can walk there if we have to. The car kept going and the silence of the mountains was deafening. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one knew we had ventured out here, it was l00 degrees in the shade and almost out of gas.

Finally we crested to the top and saw the ranch driveway. Giddy with relief a new glitch developed as the gas gave out. It seemed all that hard scrabble driving had wrought damage on one of the back tires. When the ranch owners opened their front door, they saw a dust covered Camry, two tired, frazzled and overheated women with no gas and a flat tire. "How in the hell did you get here?"

Daughter says moral of this story is:

"If you are going on a trip with my mother,
Make sure the gas tank is full.

Take along the following provisions xtra gas can, plenty of food and drinks, a GPS global positioning system, a flare gun, and a satellite phone. One more thing, if she has a cookie with her, dont go."