Always pack the extra box, just in case

After stowing the last of my gear in the pickup, I pulled down on the garage door. While doing so, the corner of a large black box stored just inside caught my eye. It was my just-in-case box, and for a split second common sense told me I should raise the door and grab the box. But since we were just taking the Boy Scouts to Callville Bay, I didn’t think we’d need to be that prepared and let the door roll closed.

At the designated meeting spot, the other leaders and I loaded up the scouts and their gear, then pointed our rigs toward Lake Mead. When we pulled into the campground, the early arrivals had set up their tents and were pulling burgers and hot dogs off the grill. Our timing couldn’t have been better.

We quickly ate our cheeseburgers and, between bites, the boys in our group set up their tents. When that was done, we loaded up again. This time our destination was Boxcar Cove, where we hoped the boys would hook a few striped bass or perhaps a catfish or two. The storm front that blew through Southern Nevada on Friday brought lots of wind but little rain, so the access road to Boxcar Cove was in good shape. Mine was the only four-wheel drive in our three-truck caravan, but I didn’t think we would need it.

At Boxcar Cove, the road turned toward the left and across the clay beach. As I made the turn, I could see Paul stopping on the high and dry side of the road, but John (the name is changed to protect me) had pulled onto an area where the clay wasn’t quite so dry. His rear tires were only in 2 inches of clay, but the treads were packed with mud. He was stuck.

“No problem,” I told Paul and confidently pulled my Ford in behind John’s truck. “All I have to do is flip this switch and … all I have to do is flip this switch … this switch … right here.” The four-wheel drive wouldn’t engage. Now we both were stuck.

Paul and John took the boys to the water’s edge and got them started as I tried to figure things out with the stuck trucks. I thought about my just-in-case box. Inside was a come-along, a tow strap, a cable and a long steel stake — everything I would need to easily extricate both vehicles. Of course, those tools weren’t going to do us much good where they sat in my garage.

After a couple of unsuccessful hours with shovels and rocks, we finally set our pride aside and called Brett. He’s an ol’ country boy from Utah, so we knew he could help. About that time, the boys grew tired of fishing and made their way back to the trucks just to bug us. One smart-alecky kid suggested we have the boys push my truck out. At first, I ignored him, but he kept prodding me until I gave in just to make him feel better and to prove who knew better. So they pushed on my front bumper as I feathered the throttle with the truck in reverse.

“I told you it would work,” the smart aleck boasted after I parked the truck on dry ground. I hate it when that happens.

Fortunately, it didn’t work on John’s truck.

When Brett arrived, he thoroughly enjoyed the customary practice of making fun of us for getting stuck in the first place. And, of course, he explained how he would show us the correct procedure for extricating a stuck truck. So he pulled in behind John’s truck.

“All I have to do is flip this switch and … all I have to do is flip this switch … this switch … right here.” The four-wheel drive wouldn’t engage. Now they both were stuck, and I finally had a chance to laugh.

Since my truck was on dry ground, I was able to pull Brett off the clay. After driving around for a few minutes, he managed to engage his four-wheel drive, and we pulled John’s truck from the mud. By then, we had been working for more than three hours, but we had been having so much fun that the time flew by.

Next time, however, I think we’ll bypass the fun and bring my just-in-case box. There is something to be said for being prepared.

Freelance writer Doug Nielsen is a conservation educator for the Nevada Department of Wildlife. His “In the Outdoors” column, published Thursday in the Las Vegas Review-Journal, is not affiliated with or endorsed by the NDOW. Any opinions he states in his column are his own. He can be reached at doug@takinitoutside.com.