|One evening the inversion broke, but it was back by morning.|
Ironically, it's actually warmer here in Cache Valley, the historic deepfreeze capitol of Utah, than it is in Moab, where things are supposed to be sunny and dry. Logan got a skiff of snow from this last storm while Moab had six inches and counting, last time I talked to a friend there.
|Downtown Logan in the snow, which quickly moved on through.|
The last week or so I was camped near Moab, it was almost 90% humidity and so wet you could see the mists hanging everywhere, including indoors. Everything I had was slowly getting damper and damper, including my sleeping bag. I was beginning to feel like I had somehow been transported to a very cold southern Louisiana.
The sun didn't appear for days on end, and I didn't break out of the inversion until I topped the pass at Soldier Summit.
I arrived in Logan about two hours late, due to a couple of events—one I would classify as a real disaster, and another that was a near disaster.
The real disaster was a truck wreck on the Spanish Fork side of Soldier Summit. I sat in traffic there for about 45 minutes, and by the time I got to the wreck it was too dark to see much, but it looked like a truck had crashed into the canyon wall and lost his load of Wal-Mart type stuff everywhere. I never did see anything in the news, so I assume the driver wasn't injured, but it sure clogged up traffic.
The near-disaster was when I came down off the steep hill above Moab, pulling my trailer. I had double-checked my hitch like I always do, even stopping after a mile or so to make sure all was well—but all was not well, even though it looked OK.
I slowed for a cattle guard, and when I crossed it, I heard the unsettling sound of grinding metal. There was no way I could stop, as my trailer was pushing me along, even though I was going only about 20 mph. Since the trailer only weighs about 1500 pounds, it doesn't require brakes, so no assist there.
I knew immediately what had happened—the trailer had jumped the hitch. I was finally able to pull over along the road and assess the situation, which initially looked really bad. I'd dragged my trailer by its safety chains for about 30 feet, nose to the ground.
I unhooked my car from the chains and stood there, wondering how much damage had been done and how to rehook it without a big jack—all I had was my small car jack. But just then, a couple of locals stopped and helped me jack it up.
A half-hour later I was on my way. Miraculously, there was no damage to the trailer. It appears that the bolt holding the hitch lever down had worked its way lose and the impact from the cattle guard flipped the lever up and undid the hitch.
I've read lots of horror stories about hitches, and it's always played into my concerns about pulling trailers. I feel I got off lucky on this one, and all the way over to Logan I pictured the various places it might've come off and created a real disaster, one such place being the always-packed freeway through Salt Lake City.
I've since put a bigger better bolt on the trailer hitch and am even considering going to a different system. In any case, I'm thankful it was just a near disaster, not a real one.