Labor Day 1970

            Labor Day, 1970, was one trip to the cabin we would never forget.  It began on Friday.  We took the camper, so there was lots of room for us to invite friends.  Grandpa and Grandma Russell came with us, as well as two cousins, Richard and Laura.

             It started getting cloudy as we drove up Friday afternoon.  By the time we got to the cabin it was raining and everything had cooled off, such a nice change from the oppressing heat of the valley.  All us kids jumped out of the camper and ran inside, laughing and trying to not get too wet.

            One reason we had come to the cabin was to pack everything up and get the cabin ready for winter.  After sweeping the cabin out Mom set us to work pulling canned goods off the shelves and putting them in cardboard boxes to take home with us.  We stacked them by the front door, but it was too wet to carry them to the camper, or work outside.

            By dark it was still raining, which was unusual for Arizona.  Normally during the monsoons it would storm for a little while, then clear up in the evening.  This time, it kept raining.

            Saturday morning we were amazed to find the rain still coming down. Everything was soaked and it was even kind-of chilly.  I looked out the kitchen window when I went in to wash the breakfast dishes and was amazed at what I saw.

            “Look down in the gully,” I called to everyone.  “It’s turned into a creek!”

            Sure enough, water was streaming under the road and gushing down the deep gully between our hill and the next hill over. 

            By mid morning, mom and dad were getting worried.  The roads out of the cabin were never very good, but when wet they became nearly impassable.  They decided it was time for us to leave, so quickly we packed everything into the camper and we started home.

            As he drove out the gate dad decided to take the old way home, through Globe, because he was sure the road over Turkey Peak would be too muddy to get through.  It was still raining as we drove toward Young.  Mom and dad and grandpa and grandma were concerned as they looked at the muddy roads ahead of us, but us kids in the back of the camper were in high spirits.  We were in a totally different world than we were used too, and we sang songs, joked around, told stories, and laughed and laughed.   Earlier in the day mom had called Julie to come get something.  When she didn’t answer mom called again, “Julie! Julie!”  This reminded someone of a popular song, "Julie, Julie, Julie, do you love me?"  and we all had it stuck in our brains.  We sang that phrase over and over,  Julie cried and told mom to make us stop, and we generally had a great time.

            When we drove through the wash at the Bar-X Ranch, we were excited.  There was a regular stream washing across the road.  When we came to the normally dry crossing of Cherry Creek, we were amazed.  It looked like a small river running through the rocky wash.  Now we were all watching out the windows of the camper, exclaiming at the changes so much rain had caused.  As we climbed the hill and rounded the curve across from the long bluff where I dreamed of building my mansion, we saw a world we had only read about in books.  Everything was misty green, wet, and fresh.  The grass on the hill looked like stories we had read about the moor in England, and it was easy to imagine we were there instead of in Arizona.

            For some reason, when we came to the Young Highway were we ought to turn right, dad didn’t feel good about going that way after all.  He decided to turn left and take the road that would eventually bring us out on top of the rim to where it connected with the main highway back to Payson.  It was a lot longer, but it felt right.  Because of the rain it took a couple of hours to get to Highway 260, and it was still raining.  We turned west, and started down the rim toward Payson.

            When we drove through Christopher Creek mom called into the camper, “Kids, look out the windows!” 

We couldn’t believe what we saw!  Whole trees were turning over and over as the current tumbled them under the bridge and down the creek.  Later we learned that just fifteen minutes after we passed a car load of people were killed as they were tried to cross a flooded road.

            At Kohl’s Ranch, Tonto Creek was also roaring like a river.  By now we were glad we had left early.  We drove through Payson without stopping, and continued down towards the valley as the rain pounded on the camper and streamed down the windows. 

            The most amazing sight of the day came as we drove through the mountains below Rye.  When the highway was built, whole sides of mountains were sliced off to make room for the road, leaving high cliffs.  Now the rock faces of those cliffs were completely covered with water, streaming over the tops of the mountains creating gigantic waterfalls.  We had never seen anything like it!

            Dad drove slowly and cautiously.  It was difficult to see through the rain, but worse, rocks had tumbled down the cliff faces and out onto the road, making driving hazardous.  Being a holiday weekend, there were lots of cars driving just as slowly, in front and behind us.

            Just before we entered Sycamore Creek Canyon we pulled to a stop.  In the back of the camper we couldn’t see ahead to tell what was happening.  Linda and Laura stuck their heads through the cab window.

 “Why did we stop?” they wanted to know, fear trembling in their voices.   

            Mom was sitting in the middle of the truck, squeezed between dad and grandma and grandpa.  She twisted around. 

“We don’t know why,” she answered.  “All the cars have stopped.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

            Now it was silent in the camper, except for the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof.  I put my arm around Julie, who’s little face was tense, and pulled the blanket around her shoulders to cover her as well.  It was cold, sitting in the camper.

            Keith and Richard talked softly about the rain, and Phillip, Linda, and Laura tried to get back to their War game they were playing, but it was hard to concentrate. 

            After  about five minutes of just sitting there waiting, dad decided to get out and see if he could find out what was going on.  We watched him walk away, past the line of cars that stretched in front of us as far as we could see.  We watched as a highway patrol car slowly inched by the waiting line of traffic.  A few minutes later a second, and then a third car came by.  Finally, we saw dad walking back towards us, dripping wet and cold.

            “The bridge is washed out up ahead,” he told mom.  “We can’t get past it.”

            “Can’t we turn around and go back to Payson?” mom wanted to know. 

            “The road is washing out behind us,” dad answered.  “They’re trying to figure out what to do, but we’ll just have to stay here for now.”

           My heart leaped up into my throat, but from excitement, not fear.  School started next week, and I always hoped for a reason to postpone that day.  Now it looked like I might actually get my wish!

            We sat in the camper as afternoon turned into evening.  It was crowded in the truck, but we had lots of room in the back.  Now that the danger of driving was over, we were having a good time again.  We had blankets to wrap up in, even beds to sleep on if we needed to.  There were snacks to eat, games to play, and if we really got hungry, we had the food mom was bringing home from the cabin, including a whole case of tuna fish!  In fact, we had it good, especially compared to the people in the cars all around us.  We watched through the back window as the people behind us ate cold hotdogs, probably meant for a picnic they never were able to have.

            Just as it got dark, a highway patrol car drove back past us, and slowly the line of cars began to move.  We turned around and followed the patrol cars down the highway a short distance, then onto a dirt road that led through the mountains to a highway maintenance yard.  There was a house there, and room for everyone to park their cars and spend the night.  We took turns going into house to use their bathroom.  Then everyone bedded down as best as they could in their cars.  We were one of the lucky ones, with beds in the camper for everyone. 

            The only damper on our exciting adventure that night was the news dad brought back from talking with some highway patrol men.  They had learned that one of their officers had died that afternoon as he tried to respond to the call for help.  He was driving up Beeline Highway and didn’t know that the bridge over Sycamore Creek was out. The rain kept him from seeing ahead, and he had driven his car off the broken road, into the roaring waters below.

            When day dawned the next morning we woke up, excited to be in a real adventure.  We got dressed and went into the house to clean up and use the bathroom.  The rain had stopped in the night, but it was still cold and wet.  Everything looked fresh and brilliant in the early morning light.  The leaves on the scrub oaks shone with drops of water.  The trunks of the pine trees looked almost black because they were so wet.  Everything was muddy, but that didn’t stop us from exploring the area around the maintenance yard.  

Suddenly we heard a helicopter flying towards us.  We watched in amazement as it circled the maintenance yard, then settled down on a little hill close by. This was the most exciting thing that had happened so far, and we ran back to the camper to find out what was happening.  Dad came and told mom that the helicopter had brought in food for the stranded motorists.  Now we were really excited, but mom burst our bubble when she told dad to tell them we didn’t need anything.  Our camper was full of food. 

            “Come on, mom,” we begged.  “All we have is canned stuff to eat.”

            “No,” mom answered.  “There are too many hungry people here, who haven’t got anything at all.  We have plenty.”

            When we discovered that part of the supplies the helicopter had brought were cans of orange juice we renewed our efforts to get mom to let us have some.  She remained firm, though, and we ate peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast.

            Later that morning dad came back from talking to the highway patrol men to let us know that we should get back into the camper.  It was time to go.  They had cleared the road back to Payson enough for us to get by, and we could get down to the Valley by driving through Payson, then down to Prescott, and then home.

Everyone was happy to hear that, except me, who was still hoping for a chance to miss the start of school.  Dad was relieved to be able to get us home, but the rest of his news wasn’t as happy.  He had learned the name of the officer who had died the day before.  It was Gib Duthie, a member of our ward, and a friend.