Birthday Trip Part 2: Stranded in Death Valley

I wrote my last blog post on my birthday. I make this distinction because of what was to come the following day.

I go on these birthday trips, usually by myself, to get some time to reflect on life. While these trips are about seeing beautiful places, they are really about learning more about myself. I tend to feel the burden of existential loneliness around my birthday, which I like to lean into and really be alone, preferably in the middle of a beautiful National Park. Well, I got exactly that with this last trip.

I ended up stranded in the middle of the desert in Death Valley National Park.

It can be hard to take a deep look at the Self when things are good. People don’t really want to “go there” when life is good. I know I usually need a solid existential smack on the head to help me gain better perspective. I learn best when my defenses are down and all I’m left with is raw emotion. This allows me the opportunity to examine, with curiosity, what’s really going on under my layers of protection, professionalism, and societal expectations. So, I got exactly that. It was as if the universe said, “Challenge accepted.”

I was heading out to the Racetrack Playa, which was 2 hours from my hotel and with the last 27 miles being on a dirt road. I was enjoying the drive, as I was cruising around, dancing, singing, and stopping to take photos along the way. I was 10 miles from my destination when I noticed my tire pressure warning light come on. I have a Jeep Wrangler, which has a full-size tire as a spare, so getting a flat is really NBD.

Honestly, I wasn’t too concerned as I had passed other cars on the way in. I decided to get out my tools and was going to attempt to change my tire but knew someone eventually would stop to help. Luckily, a small caravan of Jeeps stopped to assist. They not only helped change my tire and air down the others, they invited me to join their crew on the way out to the Racetrack. They gave me a walkie talkie so I could stay in touch on our drive and made sure that I was driving between them. We eventually made it to our destination, took photos, laughed, and went our separate ways. I had a whole day planned to visit the opposite side of the park, so I was anxious to get off that dirt road.

Three and a half miles from the paved road, I got my second flat tire. I may have screamed out some obscenities into that beautiful desert landscape. I punched my steering wheel and kicked my sad tire before taking some deep inhales. I called myself some unkind words in English and Spanish because it wasn’t enough in one language. I felt like I had brought this bad luck upon myself, as I had been thinking the entire drive out, what if I get a second flat? Also, I maaayyy have been driving a little fast.

I mentioned I was anxious to get off that road, right?

I knew I didn’t have to panic just yet because I had plenty of water, snacks, and shade. I didn’t have cell service, so I used the map that was handed to me when I arrived and alternated between staring at it and the mountains around me as I tried to figure out, roughly, how far I was from the paved road. As the minutes ticked by, the seed of panic started to settle in me as I was on this road alone. About 20 minutes later, a van I had passed on my rush out approached. This lovely couple agreed to take me and one of my busted tires to the closest ranger station. Unfortunately, my hotel was more than an hour away and not in a direction they were headed.

We arrived at the ranger station to find that it was closed and the telephone had been removed. Luckily, across the street we spotted a small building and a man with a truck. There we found two off-duty park staff members. John – a kind, patient man who had been working with the National Parks since 1979 – offered his coworker as a potential ride to my hotel. Robert – a relaxed, slightly rough-around-the-edges-but-softy-at-heart man – recently had surgery on his right foot and was going to be heading back home for a month to recover. I entered Robert’s messy apartment to find him sitting on the couch with his foot propped up, eating his lunch in nothing but chonies. He agreed to drop me off on his way out, but it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They offered me reprieve in one of the empty apartments that fortunately had a landline for me to use. I spent the next two hours crying while on hold with my insurance company trying to arrange for a tow truck.

Spoiler alert: The tow truck didn’t pan out.

After a couple hours of waiting (and crying), I went to check on my ride with Robert. He was still slowly getting ready and had to shower. He asked me to help pack up his truck, which I gladly did. I offered to drive due to his injured right foot but he insisted he was now a pro at driving with his left foot. By the time we hit the road, the sun was setting. He asked if I would mind if he drank a beer on the road and I thought, fuck it, whatever. I decided to focus on the sunset over such beautiful scenery. I found great appreciation in being able to enjoy the sunset over the desert mountains, as it isn’t something you really get to focus on when you are the driver.

Robert asked a few times if I was hungry and informed me that the little town 8 miles out of the way was cheaper than my hotel. Again, I thought, fuck it. He clearly wanted to eat and as the grateful passenger, I agreed to the stop. It was a good thing we did stop for dinner, as I was able to enjoy a tasty veggie burger and fries versus my sad snacks in my hotel room. Robert told me about his life, experience with grief after losing his son to brain cancer, and mental health journey. I really enjoyed getting to know him and was thankful for the experience to connect with a stranger.

Many, many years…I mean hours later, I made it back to my hotel room where I drank a glass of wine and slept hard.

The next morning, I called the mechanic Robert had previously stated would be able to assist. None of the park rangers or information lines had his number or knew what I was talking about when I had called about a mechanic in the park the previous day. However, before leaving that empty staff apartment the previous night, I thought to call the Jeep rental company that is located within the park. Luckily, the person that answered knew who I was talking about and gave me his number – but he didn’t answer when I called that night or the next morning.

John the Mechanic was located at the gas station next to my hotel, so it was a short (but painful as I was still recuperating from my backpacking trip) walk over. John was actually associated with the Jeep rental company, which made it an easy fix. We discussed a plan to drive out to my Jeep, change the tire to one of his spares, bring it back to the shop where I would purchase a tire that would then get me back to Phoenix.

However, we wouldn’t be able to leave for another 4 hours.

I spent the next several hours, slowly packing, buying all the souvenirs at the gift shop to commemorate my experience at Death Valley, and enjoying the scenery as I waited outside of the gas station. The drive back out to the Jeep was over an hour and was actually quite enjoyable. By this point, I felt relieved that the situation would be remedied soon so I could head back home. I had moved from focusing on the problem to realizing the gift of the situation. John had previously done tours of the park, so I got a mini tour on our way. I also learned all about his life, family dynamics, and family business.

By the time Petra the Jeep was all fixed up and ready to go, the sun was setting. I enjoyed the last bit of Death Valley on my drive out of the park. I reflected on the last day and half and the lessons learned. I thought about my intention of spending some time alone to reflect on life and what I’m now working towards at age 35. I had expected this age to hit me hard, as I had always considered it as a marker in time where I would finally be a full adult. I thought by 35, I would be married (or remarried as the case may be), have kids, live in the ‘burbs, etc. What I never considered was that by 35 I would be kicking ass with my own business, have an incredible support system of family and friends, feel like I’m making a change in our local mental health community, traveling the world, hiking and exploring National Parks, etc.

I realized on my drive out that life has been really good. I was able to see how the disappointments, dead-ends, and losses helped to guide me to that moment of feeling deep gratitude for all of it. I realized that I needed those flat tires so that I could embrace the help of others and know that I’m not so alone in the world. I learned a beautiful lesson in community, reliance, and releasing the need for ultra-independence.

So, when people ask me how my trip was, I softly laugh and say “eventful and beautiful.”