The National Forest Disaster

Funny story time:

    

When we took a vacation to Arizona last year we got hosed in the rental car department. I had requested a van, there was a mistake made and long story short, this each individual carry-on having, check-in bag thriving, family of 5 got stuck in a Chevy Malibu.

We had no itinerary. We just planned each day the night before. There were only 2 things we mandated on that trip: seeing the Grand Canyon and visiting Sedona.

One night, we decide that the following day we are just going to explore Arizona. We made note that the Kabib National Forest was not too far from where we were staying in Williams and decided to just go check it out.

That day comes. We pack our family of five tightly into the Chevy Malibu, fill up our gas tank (crucial part to the story, you’ll understand why later) and head into the forest. Josh is driving, I am in the passenger seat with my always extreme “husband’s driving” anxiety and the kids are sardined in the back, doing the best at making the drive unbearable because God forbid any sibling comes within 6 feet of their personal space and now they’re touching knees. Parental profanities started flowing long before we even turned into the forest.

We turn in on gravel roads and immediately see a super old porcupine climbing a tree. If you’ve never seen a super old porcupine climbing a tree, Google it. They climb at the speed of a sloth and look like a deranged black bear. They are borderline terrifying. I had no clue they got so big.

At this point the drive is going ok. We’re starting to notice that Arizona has open areas of wandering cow. They’re not gated or fenced in; they’re just walking about. So we turn down a road to try to check them out a little closer (because you know, we never see cow in Indiana). The road is still gravel, but I noticed the signs were strange. Josh asks if he should turn around to which I reply, “F@&$ it, we’re on vacation. Keep going.”

For the next six hours we are lost in a national forest on ATV trails in a rented Chevy Malibu. Now I don’t know if you are familiar with a Chevy Malibu, but the clearance one has from bottom of car to road is very small. We are hitting natural potholes and climbing hills that professional Razors would have trouble getting over. At one point I am fully convinced I now own a Chevy Malibu because I was certain there was no way we avoided damage. Our GPS wasn’t working because there was no service. There was no area to turn around in because the roads were so tight. To top that off, we can’t reverse because I instructed Josh to climb a hill that we could not get back up.

Then, we are rushed by a gang of super angry Javelina at dusk. Tons of them. Ever heard a Javelina scream? No? Ever even heard of a Javelina? I hadn’t. Google that too.

Finley fully flips out. I’m talking full blown scream/cry panic attack. I’ve never seen her do that before. Reed starts crying because Finley is flipping out. Payton is making comments about how we are lost and I can tell her teenage annoyance tone has now switched to a worry tone. Josh hits angry old man peak status (which mind you, had already been brewing even before we even turned in because of the sibling rivalry in the back). And me? I cannot stop laughing because I literally have no clue what to do - and I’m always the one in our family with a response or plan.

Of all worst case scenarios I had planned in my overly anxious mind - taking a Chevy Malibu through ATV trails in a national forest, getting lost, not being able to turn around, listening to screaming javelina rush you because you scared them and then the whole Chevy Malibu sized car full of people just start separately flipping their shit - was not, in fact, one of them. It was a legendary blind slide.

Finley’s medical issue makes her have to pee repeatedly; like once every half hour or less. After the Javelina incident, it was like a theater production to get her out of the car to pee on the dirt road. I, of course, accompanied her each time but it had to be quick and right next to the car or she was a nervous mess. I had to take my phone, Payton’s phone and Josh’s phone and light the road up like a night worked construction zone.

It’s now pitch black out and there are the strangest noises coming from the pits of this forest. Fueled by my own fear and wanting Finley to feel as safe as possible I’m just standing there yelling, “Get! Get back if you’re out there!”. Meanwhile, she splatters pee all over my feet since I can’t get 1 inch away from her while she’s out of the car. She also just so happens to recall the conversation from the night before about each terrifying animal that lives in the forest every time she pees; buffalo, and the recently added Javelina and old, giant porcupines were always at the top of her concerns at each dirt road rest stop.

Next, the elk. Elk are E V E R Y W H E R E in Arizona and no one warned us. Elk are flying past us like deer on highway 50 to Brownstown during the rut. These giant mother flubbers are jumping out left and right. All kids are in hysterics now. We’re out of snacks, gas is getting low and we literally do not know what the flap we are doing.

Finally, after all of that off roading, we see promising lights and the realization we all had that we were finally getting out of that place unfolded like a dramatic rescue scene from Titanic. After 6 long hours, the ATV trail exit was right next to the entrance road so thankfully we were right back where we started.

Everyone was fine, but if you ask our kids about driving through any national forests any time soon, there’s a massive chance they’re going to hit you with this story and a unanimous no.

And I definitely do not recommend taking the left turn on the gravel road if you visit the Kabib National Forest. It’s only for ATVs and rented Chevy Malibus.