Flash Flood!
After visiting Sunset Arch, it was time to leave Hole-in-the-Rock Road and make my way toward Moab. A short ways up the road, as I crested a small hill, there was a SUV parked on the side and an older guy standing in the middle madly waving his arms. I had to either stop or run him over. After several seconds considering the latter, I decided to take the former. I really didn't want to dent the Jeep.
He informed me of the flash flood and that it was much too fast and deep to cross. I went to take a look. Those are my footprints. I told him I wasn't worried about it, and that I was going to cross. He panicked and urgently asked me to reconsider this foolishness. I assured him the Jeep would have no problem crossing and climbed back inside. Then he asked me to not leave him there. He didn't have 4 wheel drive and was afraid he'd either get stuck or be swept away in his attempt to cross. About now I was regretting taking the former of those two choices instead of the latter, and told him I'd wait a bit.
He talked my ear off for the next twenty minutes. His wife never got out of the SUV.
After the twenty minutes of one-sided conversation about the dangers of flash floods and how GPS systems worked (I can't remember how he segwayed to that), the flash flood had subsided to about 50% of it's former capacity, and so had my patience. I said my farewells, wished him the best of luck, and took off.
Next day I listened to the news for a report of a large SUV being swept away in a flash flood on Hole-in-the-Rock Road, but didn't hear anything. I guess he made it out alive.
Flash Flood!
After visiting Sunset Arch, it was time to leave Hole-in-the-Rock Road and make my way toward Moab. A short ways up the road, as I crested a small hill, there was a SUV parked on the side and an older guy standing in the middle madly waving his arms. I had to either stop or run him over. After several seconds considering the latter, I decided to take the former. I really didn't want to dent the Jeep.
He informed me of the flash flood and that it was much too fast and deep to cross. I went to take a look. Those are my footprints. I told him I wasn't worried about it, and that I was going to cross. He panicked and urgently asked me to reconsider this foolishness. I assured him the Jeep would have no problem crossing and climbed back inside. Then he asked me to not leave him there. He didn't have 4 wheel drive and was afraid he'd either get stuck or be swept away in his attempt to cross. About now I was regretting taking the former of those two choices instead of the latter, and told him I'd wait a bit.
He talked my ear off for the next twenty minutes. His wife never got out of the SUV.
After the twenty minutes of one-sided conversation about the dangers of flash floods and how GPS systems worked (I can't remember how he segwayed to that), the flash flood had subsided to about 50% of it's former capacity, and so had my patience. I said my farewells, wished him the best of luck, and took off.
Next day I listened to the news for a report of a large SUV being swept away in a flash flood on Hole-in-the-Rock Road, but didn't hear anything. I guess he made it out alive.