Trip Date: March 7, 2022
Find this Spot
Ken had put out the word that it was time to get away, even for a night or two at a nearby destination. As it was still early in the year, we went through our list of close by destinations and settled on Walker Ridge, off Highway 20, heading towards the South end of Indian Valley Reservoir. We have looked for a semi-protected camp site up on the ridge as the views East and West are great, but we have never found a suitable spot. Undaunted, we figured we would return for another attempt, and if nothing else, end up at the Blue Oak, BLM campground down by the lake.
I picked Ken up and we were to meet Kevin at the intersection of Highway 16 and 20. Ken and I love 16 through Capay Valley and were again rewarded with stunning wildflower displays past Rumsey and in the narrows by the Regional Park and Campground. Massive patches of purple and orange were stunning and exciting to see as we headed on to meet up with Kevin. The wind was blowing pretty good when we got to Highway 20, but Kevin arrived shortly, and we were on our way in no time.
Walker Ridge is just a few miles past 20 so we were on the dirt road keeping our eyes peeled for wildflowers and decent tracks that could lead to a camp spot. The road was in pretty decent condition, but we didn’t pass a single vehicle until we got to the turnoff for Blue Oak campground. Again, having been stumped to find a suitable camp spot on the ridge, we descended into the canyon, dropping precipitously down the steep grade into the flooded valley of Stanton and North Cache Creeks. Another expensive, failed attempt to regulate water flow in the arid West.
We were very pleased to find the campground empty and quiet, although littered with signs of heavy use and extreme abuse. The “yahoo factor” is extreme out here, with shooting guns and ripping up hillsides with motorcycles just about mandatory. Mix in the blaring music, litter, and burning trash, and you’ve got the picture. But not on this day. The birdies were out, the breeze was calm in the canyon, and it was very mild and pleasant. If not for the hundreds of bullet shells, the scarred trees from being blasted by shotguns, and the scarred hillsides from the motorcycles, it could have been a very pretty spot.
We picked 2 camp sites towards the back of the camp and prayed to Allah that no one joined us. Eventually, we found spots for the tents and began to unload the rigs. I must admit it was nice to have picnic tables and benches to put stuff on to minimize the lifting and bending over for everything. Kenny was immediately busy picking up trash and litter, and we had a nice lunch (not with what he gathered). After a few beverages, it was time to head on down the road to check out the reservoir. We loaded up the truck and drove down the road, taking note of a side road heading South that I had seen on Googly and wanted to explore.
In no time, was came to the gate that brought back many memories from previous trips. We had come down here last trip with Bill, Steve, Ken, and Bob and had walked on down to the lake and explored all around the dam and the shore and the closed campground. This time, we just went up the road a bit to an overlook and hardly noticed the new SpaceForce launch facility that you can’t take pictures of. I recalled numerous trips camping on the North end of the reservoir with Mike, Jordan, and Kristen and drives in to Bear Valley to see the wildflowers.
We headed back to camp just as the sun was dropping below the ridge and made for some great lighting. As long as you didn’t look too close, this was a very pretty area. We had cocktails and the BBQ going in short order and were settling in for a great evening. The temps were great; the breeze mild, tons of memories of Ginger Bob and the 2 immense gravity fields he was subjected to on his last trip here. I remembered the huge Manzanita piece I brought home and now resides in the front yard. We had a great night and looked forward to a mellow middle day.
Sleep, as is often the case on the first night, was inconsistent, but it was a very comfortable night. The morning brought me a way too early and serious dilemma of to outhouse or not outhouse. In general, I am unanimously opposed to an outhouse. However, in my advanced age, I find it to be far more convenient and easy on the body, insides and out. With great trepidation, I approached, upwind, leaning away in case I needed a rapid retreat. Knowing I was not the first to visit this place only added to my fear. The door slightly ajar, I allowed my senses a quick and tiny sample. The toxicity seemed in check, so I lurched inside, did my thing, and rapidly got to the decontamination station for a full scrub down.
After a little breakfast, we loaded up our packs and headed down the trail to intersect the road we wanted to explore. It was a beautiful dry creek bed with lots of promise for a great day hike. Unfortunately, the road we wanted to explore was blocked by a gate and fencing and tons of no trespassing signs. I am sure we could have worked our way around it all, but it doesn’t lend itself to a relaxing stroll through the countryside when you are made to feel you are inside some treacherous security perimeter.
We about faced and made the best of wondering about here and there, and eventually picking up the main road back to camp. It was quite a disappointment, but we decided we would head upstream, along the little creek that passed by the camp. Getting off the road and back up into the hillside was a great option. It was really calm and peaceful back in there and away from the trash and wrecked hillsides, you could feel yourself a thousand miles away. We had a great little hike and respite, and returned to camp feeling like we had a great day without getting back in the car or working too hard.
We got another fire and BBQ going with chicken, sausages, and pasta with pesto sauce. It was all delicious and washed down with several Ginger Bob’s. While we were eating, we head blaring music and saw a cloud of dust coming down the hill and the unthinkable was suddenly and rudely smashed in our faces. Two UTV, RZR, side-by-side, ATV WTF vehicles came raging down the road shit music blaring, dust blowing, rocks throwing; just the ultimate menace mobiles. Fortunately, they were going so fast, there was no time for trepidation to see if they were coming into the campground or not as they whizzed by and were out of sight in a flash. We could hear the music off and on high above us as they climbed out of the canyon whenever they came out around a curve and then it would dissipate as they wound back into the canyon. Gratefully, that was all the “visitors” we had.
The next morning, we took another stroll before Kevin got packed up and split. It was a great seeing him and spending some quiet time together. Ken and I lounged a bit before finally succumbing to the urge. We cruised up the road, eventually emerging up on top of the ridge, the massive open vistas in stark contrast to being down inside the canyon. The old beat up RV was still parked at the junction, although no intelligent life was observed. We stopped at the gated road up to a radio tower we had seen on the way in to check out the view and get our bearings. It was quite a vista up top and we tried to take it all in.
Back in the rig, we were mellow and barely pooping along, picking out mountains, and ridges, and the Sierra Buttes below. All of a sudden, with a loud bank, we were at a stop. My heart sunk and I knew it was real bad. The truck kind of slumped toward the front driver side. We got out and saw the damage; the freakin wheel had literally fallen off and lay flat under the wheel well. This was not good. After freaking out a bit and getting really pissed off, we started to get our shit together.
We were right in the middle of the road but we were at the top of a huge horseshoe turn so visibility was good, plus, the truck couldn’t be moved so there she sat. We couldn’t get cell reception right at the truck, but if we scrambled up an embankment about 200’ away, reception was pretty good. We began working the phones. After years of hating my State Farm insurance agent, we finally switched agents but I had not switched the card in my wallet. Didn’t matter, they literally never called me back. To this day, I have not heard back from my insurance agent to see if we got off the mountain. Thanks god for insurance. What a scam.
Ken got a hold of Misty and I got a hold of Kristen and let them know of the debacle. Ken has AAA and I have State Farm so we both started calling the ridiculous call centers in Mississippi or Florida or Iraq and tried to explain to them the situation. I told them I was safe and confirmed my cell phone number at least 7 times, but they were never able to get me any fucking help. Ken got a call back from a local company that said they do not come out Walker Ridge road because they have had too much trouble up there. We heard all about trucks not coming out on dirt roads and how card the call center people were trying.
Finally, Kristen called to say she had had a conversation with a company in Williams who also was reluctant to come out Walker Ridge, but was willing to talk to me. It took me 3 calls to get through to him, but we finally spoke. He was very interested in finding out how I came to our 3 miles off Highway 20 estimate. I told him our GPS dot was one (which it wasn’t), our map reading skills was one, and an “Open Space” employee who had stopped to talk said so. I think he finally believed us, but still wasn’t ready to come out. By now it had been almost 3 hours since we broke down and I pleaded my case. He reluctantly said he would come before dark if we still had not been picked up.
I called Bill to see if he had a recommendation of where to take the truck in Woodland since he recently had some work done. He picked up the phone, but he was at the Phoenix airport. His work was done in Reno and he didn’t really know of a shop in town. He flew home from Phoenix, got home and called me again to see if we still needed help. What a guy. I thanked him for the offer, but we needed to get the truck out, and we just hoped we would eventually get a tow truck to come get us. A couple trucks had stopped to talk to us and make sure everything was OK. I really appreciated them stopping, but we still needed a way out of here.
I was feeling a little better, but still nobody was on their way. Every time the phone would ring, we would have to run down the road and up on the hillside to get reception. Most of the time that would work, but still we had a number of dropped calls, and we had to hope they would call back, or we would have to guess which of the numerous numbers we had dialed was the one that called back and randomly redial numbers trying to get through to the right person. Sometimes, we were both on the embankment talking to different people and each other trying to decide what to do or how to get people to understand our situation.
Just then, Ken got a call for a AAA guy in Redding, which seemed ridiculous to both of us. He said he could be there in a couple hours, which still didn’t make sense to me. I was telling Ken to tell him we must be able to get someone local when he finally explained he was out of Sacramento but on his way home from delivering a vehicle to Redding. Now, this was sounding better. Ken thought he sounded legit and he was still the only guy that said he would come out to us, knew where we were, wasn’t concerned about the dirt road, had the right rig, etc.
We sat in our chairs for a bit and had a beverage and relaxed somewhat with the thought finally someone was coming to help us. It wasn’t long before we were getting antsy and I thought it might be useful and time killing to walk down to Highway 20 to meet the driver and guide him in. Ken called him to let him know our plan and he thought that was a good idea, and let us know he was only about an hour out now. So we loaded up some snacks and beverages and headed on down the road. It was actually a nice walk and much needed exercise after all the tension and stress. We barely sat down in the shade at Highway 20 when the huge yellow flatbed turned onto Walker Ridge Road. Kenny flagged him down and I chugged the last half of my beer and climbed aboard. It was a nice new truck and John was a real nice guy.
He definitely could sense our frustration and concern so he made a few jokes and we all relaxed. He was at the truck in no time and got to work getting it up on the bed. We called the ladies to let them know we were safe and I called the guy out of Williams to let him know we got picked up and he was off the hook. We talked to John a little bit about where to bring it and he thought the Les Schwab on Madison was a good choice. It was also the closest place to our house, so this was working out great.
We actually pulled into Les Schwab at 5:30 before it closed so we could even get it checked in and they would bring it inside for the night. I was stoked. Kristen and Misty showed up and they took all their stuff so that worked out. It couldn’t have been better. When John pulled out to leave, I slipped him $40 just to say thanks. He was a real good dude and when you need someone to help you, those guys are few and far between. We were home shortly after 6:00 and having a medicinal cocktail to relieve the stress. It had been quite an ordeal, but, all things considered, it worked out just about as well as could be expected.
As it turned out, my front left ball joint failed and that caused the wheel to fall off. It could have been far worse if we had been going faster or if it happened on 20 and screaming down I-5. Schwab replaced both ball joints, both front shocks and struts, and the rack and pinion steering assembly for $1400. Money well spent for sure, but this really rocked my confidence in the truck. Maybe it is time for either the truck or the off road trips to retire.
Indian Valley Reservoir Photo Gallery
