Sliding off the Road

Chamberlain Trail was just a rough, un-maintained dirt road back in those days.  There were many places where you had to drive slowly over large outcropping of rocks, or you would end up with a hole in your oil pan.  Most of the trail was scattered with small, sharp rocks so pointy that even the best driver was in constant danger of puncturing tires. 

In other places, it would have been nice to have some rocks.  After it rained these spots became so slippery it was hard to keep the car from slipping off the road into pine trees or the mountainside.

One late summer afternoon we drove up to the cabin after a rainstorm.  Dad drove extra carefully over the slippery road, and mom breathed a big sigh of relief when we finally passed Fisherman’s Point and started to drop down off the mountain.  Suddenly we hit a slippery spot, and dad was unable to keep the car on the road.  The front tires slid over the edge of the hill, coming to rest in a bunch of small pine trees.  Dad tried to back up, but the road was so muddy he couldn’t get any traction.  Finally, he gave up and told us we would have to walk the rest of the way to the cabin and get Grandpa to drive dad back in the truck to pull the car out.

We were excited to get out and walk.  Phillip ran from one side of the road to the other, examining bushes and rocks for rabbits or squirrels.  Keith searched the woods on either side, hoping to see a deer.  I held firmly onto mom’s hand, just in case there was a deer, or bears, in the forest.  Linda was only a few years old, and dad had to carry her because her little legs couldn’t keep up.  We sang mountain songs and laughed and skipped our way down the muddy road as the afternoon shadows lengthened and the air grew crisp and cool.  It was dusk when we finally rounded the bend and saw the crossing before us.  “Can we wade across?”  we wanted to know.

“It’s too cold for wading,’ mom hesitated.  “You’ll end up soaking wet.”

“They’ll be ok,” dad assured her.  “It’s not far to the cabin now, and it really isn’t that cold.”  He was tired from carrying Linda, and didn’t relish the idea of carrying all of us across the creek.

Finally mother agreed, and we sat down on rocks to take our shoes and socks off.  The water was cold and it rushed quickly over the rocks, threatening to sweep us off the slippery stones.  We held mom and dad’s hands and carefully made our way through the creek.  When we got to the other side we sat on the ground and tried to pull our shoes and socks back on our freezing, wet feet. 

We trudged up the last bit of road shivering in the cool evening air as the twilight darkened into night.  It was sure good to see the lights of grandpa’s cabin twinkling through the trees when we rounded the last bend in the road. 

Grandma wrapped us in quilts and made us hot soup to drink while dad and grandpa drove back down the road to get the car.  Soon we were warm and comfortable.  We were all worn out from the walk, and fell fast asleep long before dad and grandpa came back with the car.