Forward a little ... turn ... roll back a smidge ... Impossible!
The hill was so steep, I wasn't sure I could stand on it, without falling down. This was not going to end well. I couldn't leave the van in such a precarious position, without risking the lives of anyone below, and I couldn't move it, for the same reason. A little more rain would see it sail down the hill, into those cabins, and the heavy gas bottle inside wouldn't do much to help that situation.

In the panic, I'd forgotten something important: The rescue services. Those angels in human form, who risk their lives, to save people like us. The phone was dialing and the tone sounded like my pulse; 25 beats per second, and loud.

Minutes later, a fire truck shot past, below us and my heart sank.
There was no way on earth that huge truck was coming up here. What did I expect them to do?
After another ten minutes, I saw the flashlights, walking slowly up the gravel path, and I was down in the gutter, again. With no equipment, I had little hope that these men could recover us.

We discussed ideas and planned some moves that didn't work out. The men talked among themselves, for a few, painful, minutes, and then the worst thing happened. One of the men turned to me and said "What do you think we should do?". Here, I was, calling on them for their expertise, and they were asking me for ideas. It was utterly deflating. But, here, we were, and every problem has a solution, no matter how hard it might be to figure out. We talked about chocking the wheels and closing the road until the morning, returning in daylight to re-examine, but just as hope was beginning to bleed out, someone decided to try, one more time, to complete the turn - this time, with all hands on deck.

Still game, I handed him the keys and watched, in awe and terror, as the engine turned over and the lights filled the foggy air with blinding purpose. Inching forward, with four sets of hands, for guidance and support, the picture started to change. Suddenly, I saw an end that involved a safe completion of our journey, where had previously been various compromises, none of which had left a sweet taste.

As the van slid, so the hands slowed and stopped it. As the wheels approached the soft edges of danger zones, so the eyes could see and the voices could warn, and precious inch by precious inch, a gang of strangers turned my stranded home around and marched it safely back down the ungodly track.

At the bottom of the hill, police waited to "assist" by checking my papers. Helpful.
I removed the snow chains, breathed deeply and thanked the men for their bravery and support.
After discovering that I was not wanted for anything, a police escort took us directly to our destination, and we arrived just shy of midnight, for our 7pm check-in.

Try, though I did, I was incapable of fully expressing my immense gratitude to the people who took on the job of rescuing two people and a dog, from a remote and dangerous location, under the cloak of night, in the thick of winter. It was a thankless, tiring and extremely dangerous job, for which their reward was probably a quick coffee, before the next emergency.

Even though this mis-adventure was probably just another job on their list, for me, it was an unforgettable blend of emotion - from basic fear to unbelievable gratitude. And I can't help thinking about life in a new way, with all of that in mind.

When it was all over, and Byron was fed and walked, we slept deeply and thoroughly, for the first time in months.

These tires weren't made for mud.

The dried remains of last night.

Snow chains saved our lives.