Setbacks

(A Blog Entry from an adventure 

on Monday, October 9th, 2017)

            After waking early, I checked over the gear I had set out the night before.  I needed to get my kayaks out of the garage, so I went out to start my Jeep and back it out into the driveway.  Unfortunately there was no response when I turned the key.  The Jeep was dead.  Setbacks.  The sky was beginning to show signs of light as I pulled out some jumper cables and tried charging the battery by using another vehicle in the garage.  After several attempts, I finally got the engine to turn over.  I let it charge for a few minutes, and then backed the Jeep out.  Just to make sure it would restart, I turned off the ignition switch and immediately started it again.  It worked, and I allowed myself a smile knowing that I would now be able to use it to escape onto the water for the morning.  My friend and I would both be escaping into an area setback off the main thoroughfare of most people.

            Scott arrived a bit later, as the sun edged its way toward the horizon.  We loaded the gear into my Jeep, and threw the kayaks into the back.  They don’t fit all of the way in, and instead extend a foot or two out of the back, but we just tied the hatch down and called it good.  I jumped into the front seat of my Jeep with my dog Kora, while Scott got into his car.  We would need the two vehicles to complete the “put in/take out” transition.  I took a deep breath.  Everything would be ok now, and we were about to head out.  Granted, we typically go with a decent sized crew on this fall day we have off from school, but after a group outing on the river a month or two ago, it was down to just the two of us this time.  Regardless, Scott and I planned on making the most of it, and set out on an adventure.

            I turned the key in the ignition.  Nothing; the Jeep was dead again.  I got out and glanced at Scott sitting in his car, giving him a look that basically said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”  Kora was confused, and gave me a look that basically said, “What’s going on, I thought we were going to go do something fun?” 

            Of course, my jumper cables were under the folded down back seats which was also under the gear and kayaks.  Unload the Jeep.  Pull Scott’s car up.  Grab the jumper cables.  After charging the battery for a while, there still was no response when I turned the key.  Setbacks.  On a whim, I popped the caps off my battery.  I always tell people that I know more about harnessing a horse to pull logs out of the woods than I do about engine repair.  I say that because it’s absolutely true.  I grew up in the country on a small farm, where I did harness our horse for such endeavors, and I really don’t have any interest in tinkering with cars.  But somewhere throughout the years I’ve had others check the water level in my battery, and the memory of that triggered something in my head.  The water level looked low.  I ran into the house and hopped down the stairs for a jug of distilled water I keep in the basement.  I rolled a sheet of paper into a makeshift funnel, and filled each of the cells in the battery.

            We tried jumping the battery again.  If this wasn’t going to work, our other option was hiking into the woods somewhere and cooking a meal.  It would feel second rate, however, so we hoped for the best.  We needed to get on the water.  It was shaping up to be a good looking day if we could just get out there!

            When I turned the key this time, my old Jeep came back to life.  The sticker on my battery says, “8/11;” as in August 2011.  The average life of a car battery apparently is three to five years; give or take.  Seeing as though this was 2017, I was living on borrowed time; but aren’t we all.

            Reload the Jeep.  Back Scott’s car out of our driveway, and onto the street.  Get back into our vehicles, and we were finally off to a favorite section of a favorite river; a river that’s set back in a forgotten section of Northern Illinois.  Kora sat leaning forward, shaking with anticipation.

            After completing the kayak/gear drop-off, and taking my Jeep to the take out location, we climbed into our vessels and shoved off.  The quiet of a river has a way of wringing out the frustrations that can creep into your soul.  Both Scott and I weren’t bogged down by the setbacks from the morning; those were a minor inconvenience compared to the wider scope of life.  Ours were on the level of morale and changes.  I don’t believe we solved any problems, and I don’t even remember the whole conversation.  I do know we talked some, and caught up a bit on life and our perspective on things.  After having run a few thousand miles together over the years, we usually are fairly in tune with what the other person is thinking and feeling for the most part.  Since it has been a while since we have had the opportunity to lace up our shoes and run a path, it was a good reconnect.

            Although our area had been in a drought, recent rain had raised the water level.  We stopped when we finally found a small strip of sand where we could cook some food.  I’ll admit I had some trouble making the fire from my traditional flint and steel.  I could get the spark on the char cloth, and produce lots of smoke, but I just couldn’t get it to pop into a flame.  Setbacks.  When I finally did get a flame going in the nesting material, it quickly died out and wouldn’t catch onto the tinder.  The twigs were a little too damp.  I had to resort to a backup solution and a small roll of emergency toilet paper I keep in my pack.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  We were hungry, and the sun was at about a forty-five degree angle in the sky. 

VIDEO:

            In the end we ate.  In the end we overcame the goofy obstacles and setbacks of the morning.  In the end we enjoyed each other’s company and time in the out of doors.  In the end, Scott and I paddled the snaking river; a river set back in the lush green bottomlands under a beautiful blue sky.

            See you along The Way…