Wild Wyoming

We’d been talking about the need for a van for a long time, but with gas prices so high, vehicles approaching an unaffordable rate and being based in two of the most rural areas of California committing to and finding the right rig was proving difficult. I put out some social media posts in regards to retired vehicles, etc. and early in July I purchased a used 7 passenger Honda Odyssey van that was located in Mammoth. Even though it had a lot of miles on it, it had been well cared for and was in good condition. We knew it wouldn’t be our final answer, but it would help us at least get through the summer and help me stop having to rent vehicles every week.

Myself and (most of) the youth fell in love with this vehicle. An acquaintance told me she calls hers Godyssey- and I have to say I totally agree. These vans are the bees knees! We rallied this thing for some of our bigger outings and it held 8 of us and all of camping, climbing, food and art supplies. Stella and I even took it out several times to watch the late day monsoons roll through the valley during the heat of the summer months.

Finally, after a busy season of youth work and some pretty intense training for climbing my five week vacation to live my best sport climbing life arrived. I packed up the van with camping gear, climbing gear, food, dog supplies and then some and we hit the road for the 15 hour drive to Ten Sleep. I caravanned out there with my dear friend Sandra. The van did great.

We arrived in the canyon in the dark and so I hadn’t truly seen the immense amount of limestone that lined each side of Hwy 16. That first morning and honestly every day after I was amazed at the sheer amount of rock, it was like a little piece of Europe plopped down in the Wild West. We took turns driving to the crags, things seemed fine and then one day things started to go weird.

I needed a jump one morning, but neither of us recalled having left any lights on or doors open. Then the A/C slowly started to decline, then the tire pressure symbol would come on and off despite there being sufficient air. After two weeks of camping down by Leigh Creek around 4500ft we moved up towards the Big Horn Pass around 9,000ft. It was quite a bit colder and the storms would roll in fast and hot. Lightening, hail, freezing temps and big thunder were a common occurrence.

The van provided us with a great shelter when our tents were soggy or when we were afraid of lightening. Lindsey arrived during one of the bigger storm cycles just in time for the van to start really acting like an old woman with arthritis.

The slider doors started sticking, then not working at all. Assuming a fuse had maybe blown we messed around checking each fuse associated with all the things it could have been – everything was fine, no fuses blown. So we decided the sensors must be wet, dirty and cold. Wanting to thaw them out we managed to close the doors manually (which is no small feat) and then headed down to town for some errands and the likes.

The doors started to kind of work and then didn’t. Three weeks in and this was all starting to give me anxiety. By week four Sandra departed back for Bishop and Lindsey and I stayed a few more days camped up high before moving back down into town where we stayed in a small sleeping cabin at the Ten Sleep RV park.

With the lower elevation and warmer, drier weather the van started to act normal again. All slider doors were working, tire pressure lights were off and we continued to take turns driving to the crags. One rest day we opted to take a little trip to the town of Thermopolis to see some dinosaur bones, and visit the hot springs. We took the van and all seemed right in the world. After a truly fun and enjoyable day touristing around we headed back the 60 miles to Ten Sleep.

During one of the more remote parts of the drive back as I crested a small hill the van just suddenly stopped accelerating. Lindsey thought I was joking as I barely managed to make it to the shoulder before the van stopped completely. Then there was a muffled popping noise, followed by a faint burning smell. The battery was fine, the engine would turn over but not start. It sounded like someone with asthma. Fuck.

All over the towns on billboards, bulletin boards, and local newspapers were ads about human trafficking and missing women and girls. And if y’all have been paying attention the last years then you know this is rampant. This had been in the back of my mind the whole trip. Now, stranded on the side of the hwy where all walks of life in rugged, rural Wyoming passed through it was in the forefront.

I popped the hood and got out. Lindsey went around back to hit up the snacks. Stella stayed in. To my highly untrained eye everything looked fine – all belts were in place, all fluids full, no smoke was coming out of the engine. I looked under the van, nothing of note. I tried to start it again, same thing. I got back in and called for a tow in Worland. A very old sounding man answered my call. He said he’d send someone, it’d be a little bit.

A few minutes later, with the hood still up and me standing there convinced I would find something a beat-up car pulled in front of us. The door opened and a very dusty, roughed up pair of work boots stepped out. “Ugh oh,” I thought. Lindsey had come back around to the front, we looked at each other and I walked toward the large man who was making his way over.

Rugged looking, and wearing a work vest my snap judgment for a brief second was like, “this is it, this is how we die.” As he got closer I fixed in on his crystal blue eyes – piercing and friendly. He held out his hand to shake mine, “I’m Shannon, what’s the trouble?” As I took his hand in mine I knew it was ok. He was gnarled and smelled of beer, but he was good, we were good.

I told him what happened. He looked under the hood. He didn’t know he said. I asked him if he knew how we could get back to Ten Sleep if I had the van towed to Worland. He said he lived in Ten Sleep, then he said hold on let me make a call. He called his Uncle George who has a ranch about 12 miles north of Ten Sleep. As a hay farmer and professional red neck Uncle George of course owned a flat bed trailer. I stood there listening to him tell his uncle what the deal was, where we were and could he please come and get us. He hung up the phone and said his uncle would come, but that he himself needed to go deal with some other car at his place.

I thanked him and then asked, well if he comes to get us where exactly will he be taking us. He said to hold on another sec, he would make another call. Apparently one of his best friends also lived Ten Sleep and was some kind of savant mechanic on the side and had a pristine home garage in an old barn. He made the call and the friend said sure, he’d take a look.

Shannon, our road savior, got back in his little teal Geo Prizm and drove away. I called the tow truck guy and said someone was coming to help and to please cancel the tow. He was kind of grumpy, rightly so, but said ok. And then we waited.

40 minutes passed and nothing. We talked about wether or not they were coming. I got anxious. Nearly an hour passed and we were still waiting. I called the tow company back and said maybe we did need the tow after all. He said the tow driver probably wouldn’t come. I hung up, looked at Lindsey and said I guess we’ll see what happens. Around 7pm a big black truck pulling a flat be pulled in front of us, Uncle George driving and Shannon in shotgun.

We got out, they got out. I shook Uncle George’s hand and thanked him for coming. He was slight of build, neatly dressed in flannel and jeans and looked to be in his 70s. They were both drinking Bud Light. We tried to jump the van – nothing. Without the ability to drive the van was now the issue of getting the van onto the trailer.

Shannon said he had an idea. Uncle George would park the trailer on the bottom of the hill behind us and Shannon would drive the van and use the momentum from the hill to get the van on the trailer. The only thing was that we were facing away from the hill, so he would have to flip it around really quickly to make it work. I looked at Uncle George, he looked at me, smiled and said ” He’s crazy, yea.”

I gave him the keys and walked to the side of the road. Lindsey having been inside the van during all this talk had no idea of the plan. She sat in the passenger seat with Stella in the back as Shannon whipped that van around so fast it seemed it might flip. I filmed from the sidelines. With serious momentum and trailer ramps in place, he got that van up on the bed only crushing the front bumper on impact a small amount. It was some true cowboy business.

With the van loaded up and strapped down we got in the truck with them and headed to Ten Sleep. Uncle George called for another beer and Shannon looked back at us and asked if we smoked weed, handing me a dugout of herb. I was shocked and delighted. Pipe was passed to Uncle George and I said out loud with amazement, “Im tripping out right now, where the heck are we!?” Everyone laughed and they looked back at me and said , “Dont worry you’re safe with us.”

On the half hour drive to town they shared stories of growing up and living in Ten Sleep. Shannon was a road worker, he had even lived in Pahrump, and he knew a fair amount about Inyo County. Uncle George had been in Ten Sleep his whole life. He made a really good living growing and selling hay, but he said he got lonely sometimes driving the road to the ranch everyday. Neither of them had dogs, but they liked them a lot. Stella wasn’t quite sure what to make of the whole situation and she stayed close and quiet.

Just on the other side of Ten Sleep Creek we pulled into an old farm and a long haired man met us outside. His name was Nate Moon. He’d moved back to town to solely be a sound mixer for Jalan Crossland with hopes of retiring from working on cars and farm equipment, but it seemed hard for him to quit the side hustle.

A woman came out of the house to greet us, she shook our hands, gave Stella a pet and said that we got really lucky, that these guys are some of the best and out on that road you never know what you’re gonna get and it could be really bad. She reiterated how lucky we were. The images of those human trafficking signs flashed through my mind.

We unstrapped the van and pushed it into his barn converted garage. We exchanged numbers and he said he’d be in touch the following day when he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. Uncle George dropped us off down the street and we said our fair wells. Lindsey, Stella and I made our way back to our little sleeping cabin and laughed at our good fortune and the absurdity of it all.

The next morning I walked over to the Big Horn Bar and asked the bartendress if I could take a $100 tab out for two locals that had helped us on the road. I gave her their names, she said, “oh yea they are here all the time and they are two of the best guys, always helping out the ladies in town when in need. They both drink Bud Light and so that’ll get them each 15 beers.” I imagined them going through that in one night with ease, and while I didn’t love the idea of contributing to their alcohol habit I also figured they’d appreciate it a lot.

Two days later we made our way back to Nate’s farm. He walked us into the barn and said with a heavy sigh, “I don’t have any good news for you. Your timing belt, although intact, slipped causing everything to go off time. The pistons misfired and sent a rod into the engine. That was the sound and the smell you experienced. It needs a new engine. But, this is too complicated for me to want to do and with your limited time and everything around here being American made it’s going to be a hard task.”

I weighed my limited options. I asked him if he wanted it, he laughed and said definitely not. He gave me his condolences and expressed how he hoped it wouldn’t ruin the rest of our trip. I asked him what I could pay him. I gave him $70 and some mushrooms I’d gotten from a friend. He was delighted!

I got the name of a guy who owns a salvage and recycling yard and gave him a call. He said he’d take the van and he’d give me about $500 for it. Later on during our last week in Ten Sleep the tow truck driver met us at the farm. I handed the diver the title, and he handed over the money. And just like that the van was gone.

The weeks leading up to this I’d see locals around town and wouldn’t get much from them. But after this ordeal every time I walked Stella through the streets or out by the creek and locals passed by they’d make eye contact and either nod or wave. I don’t think I imagined it all, I think word must have gotten out about the gal from California and her friend. And while Im ad to have lost the van, this whole experience really did make for a more enriched time there and heck now Ive got contacts in that sleepy little ranching town and a story that for me is certainly one for the books.

Human Trafficking is a form of modern day slavery. Every single state in the US suffers from this crime, in Wyoming it’s largely underreported.