Photo by Dino Reichmuth on Unsplash I’m Kate. The story I’m about to tell comes from when I was younger. It took place a little after my seventeenth birthday. Back then I typically dressed in a t-shirt and shorts on summer days and my long, blond hair was always in my way since I never bothered to put it up.
One sunny afternoon my best friend, Scarlett, approached me with an idea. Scarlett has red hair, brown eyes, and skin like silk. She is always planning ahead and convincing me to do things I would not do if she wasn’t around.
“How would you like to go on a road trip with me?” She inquired with the tone she uses when persuading me into something. Her normal voice is full of kindness, but when she is persuading me, it sounds like one of those car dealership employees that are always trying to swindle you into something.
“It depends on where you were planning to go,” I replied.
“We will drive from Washington to Monument Valley in half a week and spend the rest of it exploring the park. We’ll then travel through Utah to my aunt and uncle’s house in Idaho by the end of the second week. The last four days of our trip will be spent heading home to Washington. Your Volkswagen will be our mode of transportation.”
This prompted us to plan our route and cram the back of my 1972 Volkswagen with our gear. We decided it would be fine to sleep in the Volkswagen with our sleeping bags.
The morning of our departure was bright and sunny. We were ecstatic to start our new adventure.
“Remember, we’ll try to contact you in between here and my aunt and uncle's house, but there might not be cell service,” Scarlett reminded our parents. Most parents would not have let their children run off into the wilderness without them, but our parents weren't most parents. They believed we should explore and figure stuff out on our own, even if it meant we learned the hard way.
As planned, we arrived at our chief stop, Monument Valley, three and a half days into our trip. We started down an old, unkept mining road, noting no one else was on it.
Around 5 p.m. we halted for the night. Consulting our paper map, we discovered we’d made 50 miles into the park that day. This is as far as you could travel into Monument Valley without a guide. Our camp was made on the sand and siltstone valley floor. It was surrounded by large, majestic, rocks. They were small compared to the gigantic rock formations Monument Valley is famous for. There was great silence. When there was noise, it was mostly the wind whistling through the dry sagebrush. The heat of the day was just starting to cool.
When morning found us, we packed up the Volkswagen and climbed in. I turned the key to the engine, it rumbled, chugged, and died. Scarlett and I tried everything to make it run, still nothing.
“We’re in trouble,” I worried.
I had good reason to say this since we had no cell service, only enough food, water, and gas to last us three days, and no one was expecting to hear from us for another week.
“Let's wait here and see if anyone comes down the road. If we see no one in two days, we will reevaluate our options,” Scarlett suggested. This seemed like a reasonable plan, so I agreed.
We made a fire that night to keep warm. The firewood was set up next to some rocks. Just as we finished setting it up, we heard rattling.
“Rattlesnake!” I cried, but it was too late.
Scarlett hollered as the rattlesnake sank its teeth into her leg. The snake aimed for a second strike, but Scarlett had flown away from the rocks so fast the snake had no time to make another move. I knew the victim of a rattlesnake needed medical treatment within two days, or they may not survive. I set Scarlett up in the Volkswagen making her as comfortable as possible.
In a panic, I tried to get the van to start. I soon realized my efforts were pointless.
“Tomorrow morning I will walk the 50 miles out of the park to find help,” I told Scarlett once I was certain the Volkswagen did not work.
“No, there are too many ways for that plan to go south,” Scarlett retorted.
“You will die if you don’t get medical treatment soon!” I exclaimed. Right after I said this, I wished I hadn’t. For I could see the fear this realization brought to Scarlett's eyes. She was silent for three minutes, which felt like an eternity.
“I would rather see you live than risk your life for mine,” Scarlett said after much consideration.
“If you were healthy, we would go together, but you’re not, so I have to try,” I refuted. Scarlett subsided knowing she would not be the one to win this argument.
At dawn I was only able to fit enough supplies for one day into my small daypack. We said goodbye, knowing it may be the last, and I set out. My heart was heavy as I trudged along the dusty, dirt road alone. The heat was almost too much to bear. By 8:00 p.m I was exhausted and knew I needed to rest. I ate all of my food and water, thinking I had traveled farther than I really had. I curled up into a ball to go to sleep. All I could do was hope my best friend was still alive.
At first light, I began down the desolate road once more. The heat was unforgiving, and with my water gone, my mouth felt drier than it had ever felt before. With no one else on the road to talk to me, my mind wandered. In the complete silence I thought about my family and all of the good times. I wound up thinking about Scarlett. This is when my mind pivoted from the happy memories to the depths of my darkest thoughts and fears. I tried not to wonder but it was no use. Finally, I got to the point where I had to put all my energy into each step. I felt I may be too late. For if my friend was gone, what was the point of all my efforts?
This is when I saw a flash of light in the distance. My hopes spiked. The light was the sun reflecting off the window of a building. I no longer trudged, but with a positive mind, walked my fastest to the town.
When I arrived at the emergency clinic, the first thing I did was mark a spot on the map where Scarlett was and tell the medical workers she had been bitten by a rattlesnake. The medics were distraught when they heard how long it had been since Scarlett was bitten. They sprang into an ambulance and drove straight into the desert. When I saw Scarlett, as she was being taken into the clinic, I felt my heart lighten. It lightened even though Scarlett was white as snow, too weak to smile, and her eyes looked like they were somewhere far away.
“She will be alright,” one of the medics told me.
At that moment I knew everything was going to be okay. I learned a valuable lesson on that trip. Don’t take a friend for granted. You never know when it may be your last day together.
One sunny afternoon my best friend, Scarlett, approached me with an idea. Scarlett has red hair, brown eyes, and skin like silk. She is always planning ahead and convincing me to do things I would not do if she wasn’t around.
“How would you like to go on a road trip with me?” She inquired with the tone she uses when persuading me into something. Her normal voice is full of kindness, but when she is persuading me, it sounds like one of those car dealership employees that are always trying to swindle you into something.
“It depends on where you were planning to go,” I replied.
“We will drive from Washington to Monument Valley in half a week and spend the rest of it exploring the park. We’ll then travel through Utah to my aunt and uncle’s house in Idaho by the end of the second week. The last four days of our trip will be spent heading home to Washington. Your Volkswagen will be our mode of transportation.”
This prompted us to plan our route and cram the back of my 1972 Volkswagen with our gear. We decided it would be fine to sleep in the Volkswagen with our sleeping bags.
The morning of our departure was bright and sunny. We were ecstatic to start our new adventure.
“Remember, we’ll try to contact you in between here and my aunt and uncle's house, but there might not be cell service,” Scarlett reminded our parents. Most parents would not have let their children run off into the wilderness without them, but our parents weren't most parents. They believed we should explore and figure stuff out on our own, even if it meant we learned the hard way.
As planned, we arrived at our chief stop, Monument Valley, three and a half days into our trip. We started down an old, unkept mining road, noting no one else was on it.
Around 5 p.m. we halted for the night. Consulting our paper map, we discovered we’d made 50 miles into the park that day. This is as far as you could travel into Monument Valley without a guide. Our camp was made on the sand and siltstone valley floor. It was surrounded by large, majestic, rocks. They were small compared to the gigantic rock formations Monument Valley is famous for. There was great silence. When there was noise, it was mostly the wind whistling through the dry sagebrush. The heat of the day was just starting to cool.
When morning found us, we packed up the Volkswagen and climbed in. I turned the key to the engine, it rumbled, chugged, and died. Scarlett and I tried everything to make it run, still nothing.
“We’re in trouble,” I worried.
I had good reason to say this since we had no cell service, only enough food, water, and gas to last us three days, and no one was expecting to hear from us for another week.
“Let's wait here and see if anyone comes down the road. If we see no one in two days, we will reevaluate our options,” Scarlett suggested. This seemed like a reasonable plan, so I agreed.
We made a fire that night to keep warm. The firewood was set up next to some rocks. Just as we finished setting it up, we heard rattling.
“Rattlesnake!” I cried, but it was too late.
Scarlett hollered as the rattlesnake sank its teeth into her leg. The snake aimed for a second strike, but Scarlett had flown away from the rocks so fast the snake had no time to make another move. I knew the victim of a rattlesnake needed medical treatment within two days, or they may not survive. I set Scarlett up in the Volkswagen making her as comfortable as possible.
In a panic, I tried to get the van to start. I soon realized my efforts were pointless.
“Tomorrow morning I will walk the 50 miles out of the park to find help,” I told Scarlett once I was certain the Volkswagen did not work.
“No, there are too many ways for that plan to go south,” Scarlett retorted.
“You will die if you don’t get medical treatment soon!” I exclaimed. Right after I said this, I wished I hadn’t. For I could see the fear this realization brought to Scarlett's eyes. She was silent for three minutes, which felt like an eternity.
“I would rather see you live than risk your life for mine,” Scarlett said after much consideration.
“If you were healthy, we would go together, but you’re not, so I have to try,” I refuted. Scarlett subsided knowing she would not be the one to win this argument.
At dawn I was only able to fit enough supplies for one day into my small daypack. We said goodbye, knowing it may be the last, and I set out. My heart was heavy as I trudged along the dusty, dirt road alone. The heat was almost too much to bear. By 8:00 p.m I was exhausted and knew I needed to rest. I ate all of my food and water, thinking I had traveled farther than I really had. I curled up into a ball to go to sleep. All I could do was hope my best friend was still alive.
At first light, I began down the desolate road once more. The heat was unforgiving, and with my water gone, my mouth felt drier than it had ever felt before. With no one else on the road to talk to me, my mind wandered. In the complete silence I thought about my family and all of the good times. I wound up thinking about Scarlett. This is when my mind pivoted from the happy memories to the depths of my darkest thoughts and fears. I tried not to wonder but it was no use. Finally, I got to the point where I had to put all my energy into each step. I felt I may be too late. For if my friend was gone, what was the point of all my efforts?
This is when I saw a flash of light in the distance. My hopes spiked. The light was the sun reflecting off the window of a building. I no longer trudged, but with a positive mind, walked my fastest to the town.
When I arrived at the emergency clinic, the first thing I did was mark a spot on the map where Scarlett was and tell the medical workers she had been bitten by a rattlesnake. The medics were distraught when they heard how long it had been since Scarlett was bitten. They sprang into an ambulance and drove straight into the desert. When I saw Scarlett, as she was being taken into the clinic, I felt my heart lighten. It lightened even though Scarlett was white as snow, too weak to smile, and her eyes looked like they were somewhere far away.
“She will be alright,” one of the medics told me.
At that moment I knew everything was going to be okay. I learned a valuable lesson on that trip. Don’t take a friend for granted. You never know when it may be your last day together.
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