We talked to the locals about the condition of the road. As we had heard when back in the states, the direct road had been graded less than six months ago. This meant the road was in the best condition it was likely to be in for the next six years. The alternative was to drive 200 miles back out to the main road, south, and into San Franciscito on its normal feeder road. But none of the people we talked to had been on the direct route in three years. People sometimes drove down the road, but none of them had ever come back to tell the tale. Presumably this meant that they made it OK. We asked the manager of the campground if there was anyone staying there who might like to make a little money by escorting us to San Franciscito and driving us back. She connected us with this guy named Ken who turned out to be an employee of REI, a camping supply store we all know well. Ken was on vacation in his four-wheel-drive camper truck and was happy to try it out on an unknown road. I suspect that we didn’t even have to offer to pay him to do this, but we did anyway and it was well worth it to us to move all the cars.
We had one two wheel drive sedan, one two wheel drive truck with a camper top, and my new used Toyota 4-Runner four-wheel drive truck. My truck was supposed to be the emergency backup vehicle for pulling the other two out of any trouble we got into. With Ken’s car in the lead and mine taking up the rear, we drove down the road to San Franciscito. It was a rough road. It went through one valley that was full of deep soft sand where our cars slid from side to side as we plowed across it. We went through passes where the road was cut into a bank and looked like one rain would wash it out. In one place the road had been filled across a deep gully over a large culvert pipe. Apparently it had rained since the road was graded and the entire road was washed out leaving just the pipes at the bottom. We followed a steep track left by other four-wheelers and went down into the gully and back up the other side to find the road again. I didn’t think the two wheel drive cars would be able to make it in the other direction. But we did make it to San Franciscito and left our cars safe at the resort there. Then Ken drove us at breakneck speed back the wild road to our kayaks. Ken’s car had only room for three up front, so one of us had to lie down on a board covered with Astroturf in the back. Don and I took turns back there bouncing off the board and sometimes off the ceiling.
Back at Camp Gecko we finished our packing. After four days on the road we finally got to load up our boats the next morning and get ready to paddle. The shallow water of LA Bay was loaded with sting rays and we were warned to shuffle our feet in the water. Just moments before we were ready to launch, Maryly stepped back to catch her balance and stepped on one of these sting rays. She yelled “Something bit me! It stung me!” and limped from the side of her boat to shallower water. There she rolled up her 3 mm wetsuit, took off her 3 mm dive booty, rolled down her dive sock, and exposed a deep puncture wound that started gushing blood. I took a picture of this when Maryly was not looking. I figured that she would be pissed that I was documenting her pain instead of consoling her. But a minute later she started shouting for cameras, saying “If I’m going to suffer, I want it documented!” When we moved her to a platform above the waterline, she even took her own picture of her bloody foot.
At first Maryly did not know what the consequences of a sting ray sting were. For all we knew they could be fatal. But while Maryly was sitting in the sand, this cute little 8 year old girl came up and patted Maryly on the shoulder. She said “I know how much that hurts, I’ve been stung twice”. This was exactly what Maryly needed to hear. If such a small person could survive getting stung TWICE, then Maryly knew she was going to survive. What we learned about sing rays is that the venom causes only pain, and it can be denatured by soaking the stung area in hot water. Before we even learned this, all the other people in the campground had already started boiling water. Maryly soaked her foot for two hours and was limping around by the afternoon. We unpacked our camping gear and settled in for another day and night. By the next day Maryly was ready to go again. We watched her puncture wound for signs of infection and had antibiotics to treat her if necessary. The wound healed without any complications.