We drove hard across Wyoming that afternoon and early evening, racing the setting sun. We made it to the monument with just a few minutes of light to spare--enough to at least see it. Well enough.
By the time we actually got to the deserted parking lot at the base of the monument we could barely see--but enough to just make out the fascinating geological structure of the "tower." Within minutes, all was twilight.
That did not stop us from hiking! Undaunted, we set out on the trail around the monument, headlamps in hand for when it got too dark to see. But even as night settled around us, we found the contrast between the pale concrete pathway and the rest of the forest around us was enough to enable us to "see." Turning on headlamps narrowed our vision to only the path immediately before us, and blinded us to the depth of forest night around us. So we didn't use our headlamps, and instead forged ahead using only faint ambient light to guide us.
And when I say hike, I really mean power walk. It was eerie being there in the dark, with no other humans anywhere around, and we were aware that mountain lions call this area home. I wasn't worried for the safety of my family, or clearly we would not have done the night hike, but I also didn't care to linger, and adrenaline had us racing along the path. It was so dark, but the moon must have been hiding somewhere up there, and in breaks in the trees we saw stars and backlit clouds. It was spooky and wild and we were crazy to be hiking at all--but that's what made it such an adventure.
It was late when we piled back into the car to continue on to our planned stop for the night--a free place to park a couple of hours on ahead. But with that fun and energetic day behind us, we all settled into the car contentedly, listening to our "Man of the Family" audio book as we drove on in the night.
When we were about 40 miles from our destination, we suddenly felt a jolt, and pulled over. One of the tires on the trailer had blown. But that is one blessing of a double-axle trailer--that if one tire goes you still have 3 good ones to distribute the weight so the camper is not in danger of damage. But by now it was probably around 1 a.m. We were tired and in the middle of nowhere.
But again, God. Because right where the tire had blown we were passing a closed Port of Entry station. We had stopped the car right before the ramp that would convey trucks back onto the highway. So we just turned and drove the wrong way up the ramp and pulled into the back of the huge, paved, well-lit lot at the top. We had a safe, free place to sleep right there.
That's what I mean when I say that over and over in my life too many things go miraculously right for me to call it coincidence. This was clearly God's protection and provision. Again.
The next morning Mr. Incredible spent several hours trying to get AAA to come out and help change the tire--but they were not able to offer the help in the most timely or logical way. So finally, with the day slipping away from us, we decided to drive on to the next town, where we knew there was a tire place to help us--slowly, using frontage roads. It was a bit harrowing, since there were times when we were on the shoulder with cars annoyedly racing around us, but we made it.
The blown trailer tire by the time we arrived.
And the miracles just kept coming. Because the rim of the blown tire had not been damaged by our drive on it. And because they had the tires we needed/wanted. And they had 4 of them in stock. And they were able/willing to give us top priority. Any of these things could have been likely problems--but they weren't. Within a couple of hours, we were set with very good new tires, and were back on the road in time to still have that day's planned adventure.
Blessings. Over and over.
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