Picto Diary - 14 August 2022 - Flash Floods
Above: Telluride Jazz Festival. 14 August 2022.
Kids groovin' to the music.
Above: Telluride Jazz Festival. 14 August 2022.
Parade, Colorado Street.
We left Telluride after a mutually agreed upon great three-day experience at about 12:30 PM with the intent of arriving home in Park City at 7:30 PM.
Above: Flash Flood. Between Moab and Monticello, northbound, US 191. 14 August 2022.
I took the low road from Naturita, CO to Monticello, UT by mistake. I should have taken a northerly route from Naturita to US 191 via Paradox, CO and LaSalle UT. So right there, we lost an hour and a half on the drive home. To be sure, our route was a scenic one winding through multicolored, layered shale canyons and up over dry, high desert, pigmy forest, plateau country. I remember one year riding a motorcycle on this road at dusk and seeing a herd of over two-hundred deer off to the right. Taking the shorter route would have allowed us to avoid a one-and- one-half hour stoppage for the flash flood in the above image. We didn't see the flood at peak. The Sprinter was stopped behind a line of vehicles two miles long as authorities blocked the route until the flood subsided. Advised of a two-hour delay by a UDOT truck driver passing from car to car, we returned twenty miles south to Monticello for a pit stop. We considered stopping for the evening in a nearby RV park, but TIMDT was eager to get home and I was feeling OK at the wheel. We started northbound again after giving Freddie a drink and a little walk on the Maverick Convenience Store grass apron. We returned to the spot twenty miles up US 191 where we had been stopped before and noted that the traffic had started to move. We captured the above image as we passed through the area of the flooding. All in all, between my navigation error and this flood, we've lost two-and-one-half hours on the return home relative to what the shortest route would have been. TIMDT called up a UHP flash flood warning on her phone. The storms were dumping one-and-one-half inches of rain when they burst. Utah gets on average across the state, seven inches of rain per annum. We could see massive thunderstorms in the distance... one to the left... one to the right. In-between was blue sky. A flashflood delay couldn't happen to us twice, right? We pushed our luck and continued northbound.
Above: Rock formation. US 191, north of Monticello, UT. 14 August 2022.
Formation at right of road where we waited behind two miles of cars stopped due to a flash flood.
Above: Melon Stop. Green River, UT. 14 August 2022.
Bought some melons. Kind of the thing to do when in Green River in melon season. Kinda like getting peaches in Perry or raspberries in Garden City.
Above: Ray's Tavern. Green River, UT. 14 August 2022.
Rays. Iconic Utah. Unapologetically, unabashedly, American cheese on your burger. Take it or leave it.
TIMDT allowed a dinner stop at Ray's. She, not particularly liking the place over the years, said we could go as she wanted to show gratitude for the driving that I was doing. TIMDT warmed up to Ray's on this stop. The coleslaw was not soused with mayo and the burger was excellent, notwithstanding the American cheese. Time to give Freddie a feed and a short walk as well.
Above: US 6 Northbound 25 miles north of Green River, UT. 7:30 PM. 14 August 2022
Images taken from 2019 Sprinter.
Image 1. Flash flood right of road. So far so good. I hope the water stays over there and doesn't breach the road surface.
Above: US 6 Northbound 25 miles north of Green River, UT. 7:30 PM. 14 August 2022.
Image taken from 2019 Sprinter.
Image 2. Water breaches road surface. Vehicle ahead stops. We wait for about a minute as water rushes across the roadway. Sprinter, with brake pedal depressed, going slightly down hill, begins to slip slide ahead towards trailer and bumps against it. Woman driver, responding to the Sprinter bump, jumps out of the truck, runs into the roadway and starts frantically waving her arms for me to go around her to the left. Apparently, she wants to stay where she is. I have nowhere to go. I could have reversed, but I was flummoxed by the instability of the van on the snot slick surface. I thought moving forward was the best way to get out of the situation. Water begins to rise further. Finally, the woman, perhaps gaining confidence from seeing four or five vehicles ahead of her moving down the road, jumps back into her truck and starts to advance. I lightly depress the accelerator of the van and move forward; rear wheels slip slightly to the left. As I gain speed, estimated three to four mph, the van seems to stabilize. Water rushing from the right side of the highway to the left side is now estimated at eight inches in depth. Watching the water rush across the highway while trying to move forward on an unstable surface leaves me disoriented. I think of my times skiing when there is high wind and whiteout. You don't know whether your skis are moving or not. To confirm the van's forward movement, I would look at the revolving wheels of the trailer ahead of me. I look to the left of the road, where I will end up, probably overturned in three feet of water, if I can't keep the van moving forward. No time to pray. Time to concentrate.
Above: US 6 Northbound 25 miles north of Green River, UT. 7:30 PM 14 August 2022.
Image taken from 2019 Sprinter.
Image 3. Almost out of it. Now just out of the water ahead, the woman in the truck pulling the trailer stops. What the hell is she doing? I continue to move forward, but she remains stationary. Why? There is nothing ahead of her. Doesn't she know she is putting me and the vehicles behind me at risk in the rising water? I can see only two vehicles following me, a pick-up followed by a white semi. Finally, she starts up, we move forward and reach "high ground." Beyond, a very smart north bound semi-truck driver has positioned his Peterbilt to block the left, oncoming lane where a line of south bound vehicles builds. This leaves the whole roadway south, where the flooding is occurring, clear for remaining northbound traffic. After driving a quarter mile northbound I see a lone motorcyclist riding southbound bypassing the cars on the right shoulder. I think to myself, "that poor sucker is in for a surprise when he finds that he'll be standing in the rain, going nowhere, for at least the next hour or two until the water recedes." Well, at least I didn't have to wait two hours for the water to recede. But this was definitely not a good situation to find oneself in. Bullet dodged.
We arrived in Park City, safe and sound, at 10:30 PM a little beyond the 7:30 PM expected time of arrival. I'm thinking that we would have avoided the two flash flood incidents had I taken the correct route, but then, who's to say that some other incident, flooding or otherwise, might not have occurred. Call it an adventure? Call it stupidity? Call it using up one of your nine lives? Call it dumb luck?