Alternator Adventures and Misadventures

The boundary between an adventure and a misadventure is a thin one, and partly a matter of perspective.  This trip the van has provided us with a few experiences that tread the boundary between these two.  Case in point, the experience of the failing alternator. 

I’ve had alternators fail on vehicles before, so I have a fairly good idea of the symptoms – loss of charge to the battery, dimming of the headlights, and eventually if the battery becomes dead enough, failure of the engine.

We have put significant load on our alternator this trip – a cooler is frequently plugged in.  The DVD video screens are also often running.  To top it off, there is usually a wire running to the GPS unit and a cell phone battery charger.  Sometimes to top things off we run the battery charger for the camera or (new today) an FM broadcaster to send a signal from a phone with MP3s to the car radio.  Perhaps this last gadget was what finally did our loyal alternator in.

It had stuck with us through the deserts of southern California, and the mountains of the Sierra Nevada in Sequoia and Yosemite.   It survived parking in San Francisco.  But the Coastal Range was its last gasp. 

We stopped to cook dinner at a lake shortly after beginning our climb into the mountains.  Unwisely perhaps, I left the cooler plugged in while we picnicked and swam for two hours.  This lowered our battery, and put additional strain on the alternator when we returned. 

Soon after darkness fell, as we traveled through the national forest of a steep descent paralleling the rapids of the Trinity River, the battery charging gauge began to plunge.  We pulled all extraneous electronics load off the system, but had to keep the headlights on.  We had just passed a campground, but along this road small forest service camp grounds seemed to be spaced every fifteen miles or so.  And so we rolled down the hill, hoping to see one. 

The hill ended, we crossed the river, and began an ascent.  Still no camp ground.  The battery charging gauge was at zero.  The headlights were dimming.  Still no camp ground. Finally, a sign.  Camp ground.  We speeded past it.  Oops! Said Patricia.  Missed it.  But we hadn’t missed it as things turned out, for the camp ground was just ahead.

We pulled into the first site.  Down to the second.  The battery was so low that the window I had rolled down wouldn’t roll back up.  And there we stopped.  Engine shut off. Camped for the night whether we willed or no.

The small loop we camped on held no other campers, six camp sites, and two well marinated pit toilets.  We selected the site just behind where the van was parked, well away from the toilets.

For Miriam this was all adventure.  She said “wow!” as we explored the campground by flashlight.  She enjoyed moving our stuff from the van to camp.  She thought the entire matter well worth celebration, including climbing into the tent while we pitched it in the lantern light. 

Sarah was a fabulous help with setting up the tent and getting things in place.  David climbed onto the pad we would soon want to move into the tent and fell sound asleep (we had to wake him to get the pad). 

Fortuitously, Al and his wife pulled into camp not long after us.  They were traveling from Las Vegas to Redwood National Park for three days of camping with friends.  In the morning, Al said, he would help us with a jump. My hope was that perhaps by charging the battery, we might find a way to limp out of the mountains and into a territory populated enough to possess a well-stocked auto-parts store.

I slept poorly, and after getting up at 7:00 went for a pleasant run / hike down the steep trail to the creek running at the bottom of the valley.  Someone has a mining claim on the land, and a sign warned us not to take any minerals.  Apparently they come periodically to pan for gold.

In the morning, we did charge the battery for a bit, but Al seemed on a hurry to go.  His wife didn’t fancy using the toilet in camp.  So instead we gave him the information he would need to call Nationwide roadside assistance for us once he got to a territory will cell phone reception, and sat back to wait. And wait. 

Just before the tow truck finally arrived, I got the other resident of camp to drive his aged Ford F250 Diesel up to charge the van battery some more.  It might have been better to leave before the tow got here.  On the other hand, we might have been stuck somewhere else down the valley. 

Once the tow arrived, it became apparent that our party would have to divide, as he refused to transport 7 in the cab of the truck.  After I rather frightened Patricia by unloading supplies for an emergency overnight bivouac, I departed. 

The children and Patricia stayed to build houses for toy animals and do school assignments.  Miriam took an hour long nap, a brief respite from being under foot.  The sun rose higher and grew hotter.

Sarah said: “The camp is dreary and we are dull.  It has the atmosphere of making everyone want to nap and not do school work but the work must be trudged through.  Everyone is resigned to the fate of staying here, but not necessarily happy about it. Miriam took a quick nap on a sleeping bag spread on the ground of one of the many campsites we had all by ourselves, but awakened and tried to walk through poison ivy.  Everyone was very happy when Dad got back.”

Meanwhile, the tow driver and I drove to Willow Creek where he set the van down in the Chevron lot across the street from a Napa Auto Parts store.  I immediately went in and received the hoped for answer that they indeed had the alternator in stock.  An hour and fifteen minutes of work later, the van was repaired, and back on the way up the valley towards camp.  The alternator adventure/misadventure was all finished, except for the task of repacking the van.  It was time to make a somewhat delayed visit to Redwoods National Park.