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Every now and then we make a run that sticks with us. It seems to have moments and memories that carry on through out time. And this was one of those trips. One of the odd things is that it will probably not be the wheeling part of the trip that keeps this in our memory banks, but the before, in between, and after events.
It started out simple enough; this trip would be only Mouth, Rolo, and myself. This year the 4th of July holiday would be a tough one. Being mid week, it was not a long weekend for most workers. Still, being a holiday, we wanted to leave early to avoid that mad dash out of town. Keith was working and would be home late as he usually is. Mouth called, and told me that we were meeting at Rolo’s house at 9:30 PM, and would leave from there. Although definitely not an early departure time, this would be as good. We would not be ahead of the rush, but behind it.
I arrived at Rolo’s on schedule; Keith and Kris were both already there. Keith was dashing about getting everything ready to go. Kris then realized that he had forgotten to bring the fire bucket/washtub. He would run home, get the tub, while Keith and I stopped at the Safeway for some grocery shopping. Keith called Kris when we were done, and we would meet up on Hwy. 680, on the roll. We caught up with Kris near the Mission San Jose turn off, and we were now a convoy. Up over Altamont, take the Manteca turnoff and follow Hwy. 120 to Hwy. 108 and we were good to go. It did not seem like we had gone that far when I began seeing signs, 80 miles to Carson City. Could this be a short cut to Nevada? Kris had the waypoints on his GPS, and had no problem finding the turnoff. Once on the spur road, we did miss the campground. I, since I had no trailer, turned around and went back to confirm it was there, and it was. This campground had a single road in, a u-turn around a tree, and then back out the same road. We made the loop and Keith pulled into camp spot #1. Kris and I pulled in behind him. We remarked to Keith, that across the road was campsite #12, a great site. Wide open spaces with room to put your tent anywhere, and I mean anywhere. So, we moved, and it was nice. Even though it was 3 AM, Kris took out the tub and we had a small fire before hitting the sleeping bags. I took my normal spot in the back of my Runner, Keith and Mouth each in their own tents.
Ah, sunup came way to early for me. It was bright and getting warm, and it was only 6:30 AM. It was not long after that when Keith and Kris crawled out. It seems that both their tents were in direct sunlight and were now approaching 110° inside. They both came out in a sweat, looking like they just crawled out of a sauna. So it was they who first started to rethink our campsite selection. I fired up my road tested Coleman stove and cooked sausage, bacon, and eggs for everyone. When we were eating, in unison, we notice that we were all sitting in the shade of Rolo’s truck grille in an effort to stay out of the 7:30 AM blistering sunshine. Then a revelation hit us. This great camping spot, with infinite tenting possibilities, was made possible by the fact that there were NO TREES. The largest shade within fifty yards was underneath the picnic table. Oh yea, this was a smart move all right. It did not take any convincing for us to all agree that we needed to move back to the other side of the road.
After we had moved, and it did not take us long, we sat under the shade of our tree and looked back over at the Sahara campsite, and wondered, “what were we thinking?”. Actually it was Keith who was wondering, “what were you two thinking?”. This was the spot he had originally picked anyway. We all sat in our chairs, and followed the shade until about 11:30 when we decided to go check out the trail. We passed the turnoff, but it was not big deal. Just turn around and go back. Depending on the coordinates, finding a trailhead with the GPS can still be a tricky thing.
First it was up ‘No Way Out Hill’, looking at the map and reading the name, that may sound intimidating. Looking at the actual obstacle was like looking at a one-lane dirt road up the Sunol grade, only not quite as steep. We sometimes wonder whom it is that names these trials. We stopped at what turned out to be P.H. Rock for Rolo’s rig engine to cool down. From there, a hard right, and down ‘Heartbreak Hill’. It was 90% packed dirt, and very steep. Next obstacle was ‘Sidewall Suicide’. We were not actually sure when we passed it. It was not all that obvious. Ah yes, then came ‘Lion’s Butt’. Kind of an off the main trial play area. A very miniature slab, with varying degrees of ledges, bumps, and groves. We played for a few moments, then let Rolo’s rig cool down again. It was decided that he must move his auto trans cooler. It was under the hood and picked up all the engine heat, then used that air to try to cool the tranny. It was not working. The trans would start to heat up, and being attached to the engine, shared that heat with the engine so it would overheat.
As we were leaving, Rolo noticed a Samari trying to get up a ledge. It did not make it and rolled backwards. When the guy hit the brakes, the front wheels came off the ground and did a rear end wheelie. I am sure he had to change his shorts. When we passed the ledge, we noted it was only about a three-foot step up, maybe not that tall. Oh well, the joys of a very short wheelbase. Next stop, the ‘Rock Pile’. There were a few guys around, one of whom attached himself to us as we walked the area. Again, a small slab like section. I use the term slab only because it was all one continuous rock. Not because it was flat. Kris went up the normal grove section, which could be tough if you were in a stock or semi stock rig. It reminded me of a 100-yard trip up the Big Sluice. He walked right up without missing a beat. This tag along guy, whom apparently was with the Sonora Posey, pointed out one spot that he had only seen one guy make before. That was it. The gauntlet had been tossed. Rolo got his rig and gave it a shot. It was a very narrow uphill between two very large boulders on each side. And a giant one straight ahead, forcing a hard left turn.
Keith decided he would try the right side line. Running his right tire up the side of a 14-foot granite boulder, which it did quite nicely. The problem was as it came down and the rig started to pivot to the left, it also pitched the rear end to the left, and into a large hole. He tried this line a number of times, with the same results. I was amazed at his new tires. One time his front end climbed the wall on the right side using nothing but sidewall. It did not lurch, slip, spin, or slide, it just climbed. And it hung on nicely. Since this line was not working, he moved over to the left side line. This time, his left front would climb on top of a 10-foot boulder. Just about the time his tire got on top, it would pitch the rear end to the right and into the same hole as the other line. Since going to the auto trans, his gearing has been the only drawback. It needs to be about 50% lower. He just cannot generate the wheel speed that he needs for some of these assaults. About the time the wheels start to get enough speed, they hit an obstacle, and it is just geared to tall to pull through, and they stall down to a very slow crawl. Finally, after numerous attempts, he said that he was going to back out before he breaks his shit. You got it. About two minutes later, the back end dug in a little, he hit the gas, and bang went the right front stub axle. The front end was not bound up, just in between two rocks, with a lot of traction. As he got free and was about to back out, the end cap popped off the right front hub, and it spit out about one inch of the outer stub. No doubt now about what broke. We pulled out all of the broken pieces that we could find, and headed back to camp. It turns out we were only a couple hundred yards from a bypass road that headed back and would dump us right at our campground. I am sure we could have made it out using the trail, but this was supposed to be a lot shorter. And boy was it dusty. I was running in the back, and multiple times, had to actually come to a complete stop for ten to fifteen seconds for the dust to clear some. When you cannot see you own windshield wipers, it is time to give up.
After getting back, we assumed our normal positions under the tree, and waited for the sun to go down before heading out in the heat to fix Rolo’s rig, and it was only 3:00 PM. At about 7:30 PM, we started to work. Keith had problems getting the hub nuts off. It seems that when the axle broke, it expanded the spindle a little. No problem, he had a spare for that too. We got the axle assembly out and started to disassemble it when Rolo remembered that he had a spare inner, outer, and a spare CTM. So instead of pulling the old one apart, we just built a new one. Got it installed, and all that was left was to check to see if the carrier held up. Because he has lockouts and not locking hubs, there was no backlash release when the stub broke, and sounded far less violent than it normally does. He did a front-end dig to confirm that the Detroit was still good, it was, and we were all set.
Thursday morning, woke up, ate breakfast, and this would be a long one. We were not going back out into the heat, and would wait for sundown. Maybe not the sharpest knives in the drawer, but we learned our lesson about being out in this sun. So under our tree, we sat. We snacked. We moved our chairs, following the shade. We snacked. We drank. We moved out chairs. It was a very long day indeed. About then, boredom sat in. As we followed the shade, we kept looking over at the Sahara campsite. At all the open area for infinite tenting possibilities. How wonderful that concept had appeared at 3 AM in the morning. That was not even a debatable decision when we made it, it just made sense. It was the heat of the sun that made us immediately realize our mistake. By now we had already said everything of importance, and it was now kind of like a epileptic tongue with tourettes free for all. Keith looked over at the top of the tent (all we could see above the weeds) at our old Sahara neighbors. He remarked at what idiots they were. There were four of them; all crowed together under one tree, moving around to stay in the shade. He then looked to the right at Kris, then to the me on the left, then just in front of him to the tree, sitting in the shade, and immediately realized what he had just said. Rolo then remarked, “sitting around all day, in one spot, it was only a matter of time before someone said something stupid”. I agreed, but it was only 11:00 AM, it did not take him long, and he was not through. We sat. We drank. We snacked. We moved. Etc. etc. etc. Keith was then rooting around in his cooler for a soda. He finally got one, pulled it out, and sat down. Proudly holding up his mini soda and telling us how much he liked the shorty sodas so much more. Sure they were only 8 ounces, but he preferred them that way. He then wanted to sit one beside a normal 12 ounce soda can to visually prove how much smaller the can is. It appears that the shorty 8-ounce cans, which hold about 2/3 of a normal can, are just slightly taller than half. They must be a little fatter he remarked. He kept on and on about how he likes to buy the smaller soda’s. Then brain/tongue fart number two. He really liked them because he could get a lot more of them in his cooler. Then Mouth spoke up, “Ya think? I hope you can get a lot more of them in your cooler, they are half as big?. Wonder when they are going to come out with the 6-ounce soda, you could probably get a whole bunch more of those in the cooler. The thing that made that comment even better was that he had just previously explained how if you bought the quart sized beers, that you could actually bring more beer because you no longer had all that dead wasted space between the cans. So the thought for the day was you can pack more beer if you buy the big bottles, and more soda if you buy the smaller cans. Must be some type of time warp beer soda continuum or something that inspires thoughts like this. Between those comments, and me looking over at our Sahara campsite it kept me amused for the rest of the day. Casper showed up on his motorcycle, he and his family were camped about five miles down the road. He sat around with us and chatted.
Finally, as the time ticked by as we waited for sundown, about 7:00 PM, some clouds moved in and covered the suns bright rays and we had to wait no more. With that breath of relief, we decided to hit the trail one more time. We would go in the by-pass, which would drop us off at the ‘Rock Pile’, where we finished the day before. We had no sooner left camp, that Mouth proclaimed that his alternator had bit the dust. Since I could swap batteries if needed, we decided to go ahead. We started out on the correct by-pass, but somehow, somewhere turned and got onto a different one. Casper was riding his bike and coming along for entertainment, and he was not sure which way either. When we came out on top we were still at the ‘Rock Pile’ but in a complete different spot, oh well.
Rolo and I walked over to the section that took his axle earlier. Someone had stacked a very large flat rock into the hole where his rear wheels were kicked on his assaults. While that rock did not eliminate the rest of the section, it did open the door and at least let you in. While we looked that over, Kris went up the chute one more time. Rolo and I walked around viewing some of the other lines that had been suggested. And we wondered about our earlier guide. He would suggest routes that ended up with mowing down bushes. How long before our government gets involved in this area is anybodies guess. About then, Mouth was through with his trip up the chute, and was back down at the bottom, wondering where to go next. We pointed out a tough line right up the middle. This spot had very large boulders on each side, and a gap in the middle. Mouth decided to give it a shot. He tried the right side line that had his right tire clawing up an eight-foot high rock and pitching him to the left. His left tire would then climb. When both front tires were on top, his rear would hit, and did not quite have the momentum to get up. He tried five or ten times with no success. There was no lack of airtime though. A couple times he was very very close to rolling. The space program could have put astronauts in the right seat to give them weightless airtime, because there was a lot of it. Finally Keith told him, “you are so close, all you need is a little bump, and hit it”. Mouth backed up, climbed until both tire has started up the boulders, and gave it some umph. Rrmmmmm, bump, bounce, and up. He made it, and it looked easy. Kris looked over at me and said, “I should have done that the first time”. True, but we all know you have to try the more simple options first. He was not out of the woods yet. There was another gap to split to get up to the next plateau. If I thought he got air before, I was wrong. This is where the real air came out. He got some good air, and with some very good driving and spotting by Rolo, pulled it up and over again. Turn right, a little more off camber, and he was successfully out.
Next it was Rolo’s turn. Taking pretty much the same line, he would climb up and over similar to what Kris had done. He made several low speed attempts, which is preferable to launch and break. He was having the same issues that faced Kris earlier. So taking his own advice, decided to be a little more aggressive. He gave it a few shots, but the old gearing issues did not go away, and were right there to slap him down. Just not enough RPM and horsepower to keep the rear wheels spinning. Kris is not overrun with horsepower, but he has the gearing to make up for it. Rolo finally had to back away, and was not happy about it. This now gives him two spots for him to seek revenge after he gets his gearing done. I did not play at all at this spot. I had my two original Bobby Long treated birfs bite the dust on the Rubicon, and was back to completely stock units. I have absolutely no faith in those, and did not want to intentionally do something that I was sure would have the birfs for a snack. So we decided to head back. But it was still semi early, we had been sitting in camp all day, so we would not take the by-pass, we would reverse the trail and go back the way we originally came in. As we were heading out, coming the other direction were the three Sammy’s that were based out of our campground, they were headed for the by-pass and back to camp.
We headed out. As we started rolling I immediately radioed to Kris. His rear driveline had a slight wobble. OK, a little more than slight. It was bent to the point that I thought it should have been hitting his springs on the left and right as it rotated. This was bent badly; it hurt just to watch it. He said it was fine. He suggested that the point of no return was if it was bent bad enough to use as a jump rope, and it was not far off. Perhaps if you were short. Sea Biscuit could have jumped rope with this one and had headroom to spare. We headed out again, Lions Butt, Shale Hill, Sidewall Suicide, and Heartbreak Hill. I was absolutely amazed at how fast we were at Heartbreak Hill. From there, down No Way Out Hill, and we were almost to the pavement and back at camp. In fact, we were back in camp. Parked, situated, sitting down, and relaxing when the Sammy’s showed up. They took the by-pass and we had beaten them. ‘Rock Pile’ and sitting back in camp in 45 minutes, that was quick. We were not racing, just cruising along and having a good time.
It was now about 8:30 PM, and time for Kris to kick off the fire in the washtub. We had a substantial pile of wood, and we were going to burn it all. Let the games begin. Plus we had found one spot on the hill covered in dry pinecones, which we carried and threw down to our camp. Between those and the wood, a hot fire was in the mix. It was not long before the washtub was glowing red, which I had never seen. The hole in the bottom was getting plugged, and Kris had a seven-foot walking stick he would ram through the middle to clear it out. When it cleared, the tub shot a pencil beam flame about seven feet in the air. Rolo took an empty aluminum can and pushed it under the tub. In less than 20 seconds, it would melt flat, and pretty much stay that way. I reached in with a stick, and as soon as I touched it, it flowed all over. It was molten aluminum that kind of stayed in the shaped of a flat can until touched. We were amazed and did that five or ten times. Not one of us sat closer than ten feet away, it was too hot. Rolo decided to sacrifice an old camp chair to the fire gods, and put it in. It did not last long, and we all debated as to whether the legs would melt. They got white hot, but unlike the cans, never melted. During all of this, Kris was keeping his eye on a one-man purple tent that was in the next site. It and a full sized tent were there when we arrived, still there, and no one around. He wanted to burn the tents. We started kidding about people coming to our camp and asking us if we had seen their tent. We would say no. Then they would question why we had a stack of tent poles laying around and melted nylon dripping from our washtub. Long before all the wood was gone, we also noted that the entire car rim that was welded to the bottom and used as a stand, was also glowing red. Oh how we all wanted to have our Popiels Pocket Bellows now. With a fire this hot, we could have forged Keith a new axle. I believe it was Kris who questioned now far down in the ground the heat would travel. And it was Keith who said that somewhere in China, they were wondering why their rice patty burst into flames. I have never seen a fire this hot.
Morning came. As we ate something, and milled around, I noticed Kris just staring at the fire pit, and the coals. He could not let it go. Then next thing I knew, he was on his hands and knees with a piece of paper, blowing on the coals. Of course I had to help, so I go a dry piece of the egg crate to put in the mix. We did it. We got it going. And in spite of it being 85°, we started finding branches and twigs to put on the fire. Then Kris ran for another load of pinecones. Does the word, pyromaniac mean anything to you? We did not give up until it was roaring one more time.
Then we were all loaded up and ready to head for home. Now we had to reverse the process, and kill the fire. Between the big blue jug Kris had, plus all the cooler water, we used close to 20 gallons of water before it was completely squelched. This confirmed just how hot this had gotten. Convinced the coals were dead, it was close to noon and it was time for us to head for home. As we came down, off the hill, it was getting very hot. Not warm, but hot. We ended up stopping in Manteca for lunch. When I saw Keith I mentioned the heat, and he said according to his in cab temperature gauge, it was up to 104°, but he had to turn down his A/C because it was blowing right on his hands, and they were getting cold, ass hole. We had a very pleasant, other than the heat, ride back to San Jose. We all pealed off our respective ways, and we are home.