When life becomes stuck—and then unstuck

Throwing firewood off the truck

A couple of weeks back someone on the truck said—out loud—that we hadn’t had a flat tyre yet.

The big ‘Bang’ came about five minutes later as Suse inched the truck down a steep, rocky road to a likely camping spot beside a reservoir. The huge blowout produced an enormous gash in the side of the tyre.

So while the cook group got on with making dinner, some others got on with changing the tyre. These things aren’t easy. It takes about four people to lift and manoeuver a single tyre and at least 30 minutes to get the job done.

And there’s some important follow-up down the road, literally. About 100 kilometres on, it’s an important safety precaution to check and tighten all the wheel nuts.

Quinn and Suse tend to the wheel nuts

Suse and Quinn did that job the next day.

As far as truck hiccups go, that was the first major one UNTIL a couple of days ago when someone else said almost out loud—I heard it and I have not dobbed in this person for fear it will come back to bite me on the bum—that we hadn’t been bogged yet.

Scott, Nikolay and Quinn have a go at digging

Talbot and Andy wedge in a log while Diego, Poor John and Nikolay look on

The big ‘kerthunk’ came about five minutes later as Suse turned the truck down a narrow track to another likely camping spot. This time by the scenic Issyk-Kul Lake.

A bit of ground gave way on the right and we were stuck. Not a little stuck, but really, really stuck.

The photos don’t really show how precarious the situation was. Suse couldn’t go forward or the truck would be high-centred or, even worse, tipped on its side. Even with a lot of us (not me, I photograph) doing a lot of digging, she still couldn’t get enough traction to go in reverse either.

This is when every passing male felt the urge to stop and offer advice. They saw a woman driver and assumed all was lost without their assistance. They stood around with arms folded across their chests. Unless they were spouting instructions, they kept their lips pursed. My dear friend, Maggie, calls this look ‘lips like string’.

One fellow kept waving his all-vehicle license under Suse’s nose, as he told her exactly what she should do. She kept explaining the importance of safety, and the need to move cautiously or the truck might tip over. Not to be deterred, this nitwit had the cheek to leap into the cab when Suse was near the back of the truck

She hauled him out pretty darn quick, which was a relief, because so many people were around the truck that someone would probably have been seriously hurt if he’d tried to drive forward or back.

In the end, Talbot and Suse devised a brilliant plan. Firewood was brought down from the roof of the truck and used, along with tons of stones we carried from nearby, to fill in the gaps that posed the greatest risks.

Suse drives out

After maybe an hour of labour, Suse deemed our handiwork satisfactory and drove successfully over the stone and timber bridge we had created.

As for the prophet of doom who caused all this? Well, I’ll never tell.

The view behind us

A campsite and view worth all the trouble