Somewhere east of the middle of Kansas, the corn fields and cow pastures are interrupted by piles of rocks. One of those rocks is called Castle Rock. When the map told me that I had arrived, I found myself parking by fenced-in oil tanks. But, I had driven all this way…so I had to at least investigate. Even though the sky was slowly growing darker and there may or may not have been some sprinkles falling from the sky.
I decided that I could run down the trail for five minutes and, if it didn’t get interesting, I would turn around. Three minutes later, I turned the corner of a rocky outcropping and saw the castle. Poking up from the prairie land, Castle Rock was just…there. I ran faster down the hill and stood in awe. I know just enough about how rocks form to begin formulating some theories before my curiosity was interrupted by thunder…the scary kind. I took some pictures and began running up the path on the other side. I thought, “Surely this will trail will connect back to the parking area.” I got briefly distracted by sunflowers – appreciating the contrast of these sunny sunflowers with the epic rock formation and growing clouds.
My appreciation didn’t last long. The rain started. And there might have been some hail mixed in.
When I made my way (slightly off trail) back to my car, a truck was parked at the fences. By this time, the rain was pouring and I was soaked. He pulled up next to my car and joked about the rain. He asked if I wanted him to follow me out and I said, “Nah – I’ll be fine.”
A mile down the road and I questioned my decision.
I spent 4.5 years living in a state with five seasons – Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Mud Season.
But this was a mud of a different breed. I felt like I was driving on slushy snow. So, I inched along. I saw lights coming up behind me and got as close to the edge of the road as I could without fearing that I would coast right into the pasture. The driver stopped and assured me that this sort of rain was unusual and that the road was, indeed, “slimy.” He offered a brief history lesson on Castle Rock before letting me know that he’d be down this road in a few hours and would keep an eye out for me.
I plodded along. About two miles later, I realized that something was…wrong. I could feel the rear passenger side of my car pulling. So, again, I pulled to the side of the road and got out to take a look. The mud was caked so thick on my tire that there was on longer any space for it to move. I considered my options, quickly realizing that I didn’t really have many of them. I pulled a hiking pole out of my car and began chopping away at the mud. Eventually, that seemed to stop working so I dug in with my hand.
That’s when I realized that this was a slimy mud mixed with slurry-like clay. And it was caked into every crevice possible in a wheel well (and there are many). A while later, when I had just about rediscovered my tire, another truck pulled up behind me.
Are you stuck?
…not really.
Flat tire?
No. It’s…well…there was a lot of mud.
He got out of his truck to stare at my tire. He suggested I get in the car and try to drive…he would watch to see if the wheel was moving. He reassured me that I was good to go and could make it to the main road (spoiler alert: it still wasn’t paved, but hadn’t received nearly as much rain). And then he told me he lived near the corner and would keep an eye out for me to make sure that I made it out okay.
And I plodded along. Eventually, making it to a paved road and breathing a sign of relief. I stopped for coffee and then hopped on the interstate. We were finally moving…until we were moving in a way that wasn’t right.
The car started shaking anytime I went over 55. So I slowed down to a snail-like pace (50 in a 75 zone…with my flashers on) and took the next exit. I didn’t even bother with the hiking pole and just went into the wheel wells with my hands. I dug out enough mud/clay to make a coffee shop worth of mugs.
And I plodded along…only for it to happen again. I pulled into a rest stop and, in a panic, called an auto mechanic who was just another exit down the interstate. He said he would take a look. So, with flashers and my snail like pace, we drove to the next exit.
When he came out, I asked, “Do you want the whole story or do you just want to take a look at it?” It was clear that I had gotten myself into some sort of muddy pickle. I responded to his quizzical look with the full story.
And then he power washed my car and I went on my way.
While this could be a lesson in not overreacting, I do not regret paying a Kansas auto mechanic for a car wash. The car (aka Nessie) is essential for this section of my journey. I’m willing to pay a little extra for the reassurance that all is well.
And with that in mind, we keep going.
From Sunsets to Storm Clouds 