I knew if I said no too many more times, I’d stop being invited. For three years, my friend Joe had persisted in asking me to join him and some guys on a semi-regular camping trip. This trip happened to coincide with an opportunity to learn more about winching and recovery, so I looked at my meager camping gear and said yes. The class would be fun and a good excuse to finally spend the night under the stars. People camp all the time with worse gear than mine. So with that mindset, I set out for a weekend of overland camping.
Overland Camping Essentials
The class was set to take place outside of Bumble Bee, just off Highway 17. I was looking forward to taking my truck out on some fire roads and learning some technical aspects of off-roading.
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It was April, so the weather was mild and cool. We were enjoying a late start to the rising temperatures, which the area is notorious for. I hadn’t been camping since I was a kid, so I dragged the old gear from the garage and did a shakeout in the front yard. This should be enough… shelter and kitchen: check.
Bumble Bee is at about 2,500 feet in elevation, and I knew we would be in a draw during the class. I had been watching the weather for the last 10 days and checking the forecast to see what to bring or wear to the class. I had an extra set of tarps, bright orange paracord, a few blankets, a sleeping bag, and a pillow. As I gathered the tubs and items, I grabbed a set of kids’ playmat puzzle pieces, thinking I could put them on the ground for some creature comfort. The weather looked to be in the low 60s as a high and mid 40s as a low. This elevation sounds perfect.
The class was great. We spliced some synthetic lines, discussed winch safety, and had hands-on opportunities. Those in attendance brought their rigs down the trail, and so we had some fun discussing different setups while preparing and sharing lunch.
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Onward and Upward
As people were leaving, I noticed my friend Joe and the others we were going to camp with were starting to break camp. This perplexed me; the texts I received mentioned nothing about breaking camp and moving to another location! After speaking with Joe, my troubled mind was set at ease. We were going only a few miles up 17 to Schnebly Hill Road to camp at the rim overlooking Sedona. Sounds great, let’s go!
A few miles my hee-haw. At 50 miles, sprinkles were hitting the windshield and rolling off. Thanks, RainX. I was getting curious, maybe nervous, about how much farther. I was following Joe, and I know he’s got my back. He knows I’m a novice. After another 25 miles, the rain started. Not heavy at first, but enough to get the wipers involved. Click, wipers go up a notch, rain comes down harder, Click, Click, Click. And now we hit the trailhead. Perfect timing. Switching to four-wheel drive as the pavement transitions to red clay silt. Rain-soaked red clay silt.
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The fire roads here are well-maintained and easy to navigate in both directions. After the rain, visibility improved and the skies cleared, but the road conditions were rough and slick. We all have capable trucks, with my Ram 2500 coming in at the largest, slowest, and least prepared. As we were climbing a set of hills, the lead truck came on over the radio and advised that we had oncoming traffic, one vehicle. Remember, I’m in the end, and I can see our convoy of four as we ascend the slick red dirt road.
Convoy and Chaos
As our lead vehicle moves right to make room for the headlights, I can now see, just peeking over the apex of the hill, his right rear tire sinks into the rut formed by the flowing water. Truck 2, obliged to make room moves to the right, promptly deposits its right rear into the very same ditch. Now we can all see that the oncoming car is a Mazda sedan. The radio comes alive with comments, one of which remains unanswered: how did they make it up the hill to be coming back down? Suddenly, the rig in front of me, truck #3, making room for the driver who has an absolute death grip on their steering wheel, drops its right rear tire into the runoff.
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I now have three trucks in front of me, all facing 45 degrees left, driving out of their passenger windows. We were still climbing a hill that was at least 15 percent grade, all trying to avoid the little white apparition coming down at us. Just like the rest of my adventures, my right rear tire decides to join the party. The Schnebly Hill Congo line was complete, and we were able to avoid hitting the Mazda while not getting stuck. We couldn’t get out of the rut until we were able to straighten out at the top of the hill.
Thank goodness the rain stopped, but the mud was real. Juniper berries all over the squished out chunks of slime and clay that extrude from the tread of the tires. Absolutely gorgeous campsite. The view is amazing and the temps chilly, but it’s worth it. Stepping closer to the edge, the wind picks up significantly, but it is manageable. The boys get their RTTs leveled and set up, and before long, the fire is started, and they are discussing dinner plans. Then there’s me.
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When Your Overland Camping Setup Fails
My tent is a teepee style tent that needs a center pole and stakes. We are camping on granite, which I discovered after setting up the tent to the point where stakes were needed. Losing sunlight and temperature quickly now. There’s not enough dirt to set the stakes. No stakes, no pole, no pole, no tent. Okay, let’s try something else. There is a tall juniper tree, maybe I can make a ridgeline with it and my truck, and use the tarp to create a shelter… still no place for stakes, and no real rocks to use as anchors. This has gone from pitching a tent to improvising a shelter. I really don’t want to ask for help.
At this point, it’s been over an hour since we arrived, and I have nothing to show for it. Sunset is coming, and I’m getting hungry and frustrated. I’m hungstrated. Joe comes over with a plate and asks how it’s going. He hands me a loaded taco, so I relent and take a break. We discussed a few ideas, and like a man, he let me figure it out. I tied off the front of the tarp to my mirrors, draping it over the windshield and back over the bed. I then tied the rear corners down to the tires.
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Overcome and Adapt
Next, I used my ratcheting load locker as a tent pole and lifted the middle of the tarp off the tailgate that was in the lowered position. I dragged a big rock over and used it as a step to get up to the tailgate and into the “tent.” I put the kids’ play area puzzle pieces down to flatten out the ridges of my bedliner, and they acted as a decent insulator. Then I put down the blanket, then the sleeping bag, and finally the pillow. The food provided nourishment and enough respite to come up with the final iteration that I called home for the night. Once I was set up, I joined the boys and finished the night off. Little did I know how the night would go.
The temperature got down into the low 30’s that night. The wind was enough to flap all night and send a chill through my makeshift tent. Sleep came in brief moments between shivering and the sound of the tarp. At one point, I kicked the pole out, hoping the tarp wouldn’t be so loud. The outcome was still the occasional flap. The wonderful addition of condensation getting my sleeping bag wet added to my discomfort. This is also when I learned how important the pee bottle is, because I did not have one. Now I find myself leaving whatever warmth I had to venture forth into the wind and elements to relieve myself, which ended in shivering and cramps. I was cold and miserable, but I was not dead.
Comfort dies one assumption at a time.
A New Day of Adventure
By sunrise, I gave up on sleep and got up and dressed. The sun was a welcome source of warmth. I got through the night, as miserable as it was. I felt like I had earned the sunrise and the right to ask Joe why we didn’t camp at the lower elevation we had planned. Joe’s face twisted a bit with confusion, then smoothed into understanding, and then brightened with laughter. The crew has a text thread, and a few days before the trip, they decided to go farther north, to a higher elevation. But I’m not on that thread. So I had planned for about half the elevation we were going to reach. His laughter faded, and then he apologized profusely. It appears that this camp crew uses iPhones, and here I am with my Android.
The sun is starting to light up the canyon below us, giving the clouds that amazing glow. The azure blue sky is dotted with the occasional hawk or crow. The fire coals are stoked and getting warmer. The coffee is hot, and the breakfast is sizzling. I learned a lot about overland camping and resilience that night. It was the perfect first trip because it sucked, but it was still fun, and that’s part of the adventure. We have been out dozens of times since, but this is still one of my favorite memories because of what became of that night, the bonds we have now, and the countless adventures that await us.
