This is Zwack!

Wow! Here I am in Central Europe, and I have just finished watching a weather forecast from Fox TV13 in Salt Lake City (ya gotta love the ‘Internets’). The meteorologist is predicting gale force winds of up to 70 mph(!) in western Utah overnight and into Monday, with gusts in the SL valley reaching 55 mph. Those are tropical-storm-force-wind speeds, people! The graphical map then pulled back to show the western half of the country and the source of these winds: off the coast of British Columbia and Washington state was a system that looked like a disorganized hurricane, but a hurricane, nonetheless. A bomb cyclone, I’ve heard it said; also called the ‘pineapple express,’ as it originates in the warm Pacific waters around Hawaii. 

This reminds me of an incident that befell me, years ago, when I was returning to Park City from picking up the RV at Ritchie’s parents in Oregon. After overnighting in Winnemucca, I left early the next morning, heading east on Interstate 80. I was powering up the incline to the summit right before the entrance to Wendover, on the Nevada/Utah state line, when the semi-truck in front of me started drifting towards the right shoulder. My first thought was, “uh-oh, he’s fallen asleep; I wonder if he’ll ‘come to’ in time.” His brake lights came on and he seemed to recover, coasting to a stop along the shoulder. I was still ‘pedal to the metal,’ surging to the top of the ridge. All of a sudden, as I crested the rise, a gust of wind caught the broad side of the RV and it felt as if I was going to topple over! Shocked, frightened and now wide-awake, I started fighting this wind, as it pushed me towards the shoulder, just as it had the truck before me. And as I’m surveying the ground, to see where I could best come to a stop, I noticed that this was not a very substantial shoulder; the highway had been carved out of the side of the mountain, not over the top. How steep the edge, or how far down the incline went, I couldn’t tell, but I certainly wasn’t eager to find out. It was a fight against the wind; I was finally able to wrestle the RV to a stop, but I was past the shoulder, onto the sandy expanse beyond, way too close to the edge for my liking! Avoiding a run-in with the back of the parked semi was to blame for my resting where I did. I was now parallel with the semi, and I looked over to see the driver looking back at me, wide-eyed; he had a stake in my maneuverings, obviously, and had been watching the whole time, although this couldn’t have taken but a few seconds, regardless of the life-time I lost. 

The RV was still ‘rockin’ n’ rollin’ from the gale outside; I knew I needed to get into Wendover, out of the wind. The truck driver was now looking down the road, and I followed his gaze to see a semi-trailer sitting on its side halfway to the bottom of the incline. Holy crap! Lights were flashing; the Nevada Highway Patrol was on the scene, directing traffic. My engine was still running, and hoping not to end up like that truck, I slowly crawled forward back onto the shoulder, which was itself a tricky maneuver. If the tire caught the edge of the asphalt, in this wind, the RV might still end up on its side. No problem, I was up & on. Now to get to that exit! 

There is never a great deal of traffic in that wasteland of eastern Nevada/western Utah, close to the salt flats of the Great Salt Lake, mostly eighteen-wheelers. But those trucks were going to have the same problem as me and my semi-truck neighbor. I looked back in my rear view mirror to see that he was coming slowly behind me, wanting to get away from that spot, as well, before another truck plowed into him, being unable to help it. Checking for traffic coming and seeing nothing, I merged onto the roadway. The NHP officers saw us approaching and guided us around the stricken 18-wheeler. The exit wasn’t much further and we both took it. Even down on level ground the wind was still hellacious. I pulled into the parking lot of the first casino I came to and found a spot against the reinforced embankment with other high profile vehicles, in the shelter of the casino building. After securing my rig, I walked around the RV to see how it looked; no damage that I could see, everything still attached. I was shaking like a leaf, so I walked into the casino and found the coffee shop to calm down with a cup o’ joe. I remember sitting there, having second-thoughts, ruminating to myself that if this was how it was gonna be with this RV, I had better ‘think again.’ 

Honestly, though, all things considered, that RV was one sweet ride; I miss it. But not the wind. And I wonder that the NHP did not close that stretch of the Interstate until the winds calmed down. It’s possible they did, after, but not soon enough for me. Or my neighbor. Lesson learned.