Snowbicon- February 21st and 22nd, 2004

Snowbicon- February 21st and 22nd, 2004

Story by Bret Preble
Member attendees: Keith Ratzburg, Bret Preble, Travis Preble, and Carl Shelton. Other Attendees- Jeff "Break It In" and Tracy

We tried humiliation, pleading, appealing to their sporting nature, but in the end it was only El Rolo with passenger Dozer, and me and my son, Crash, that were men enough to go play in the snow. Everyone else was either “busy,” or “it’s too wet,” or “it’s too cold,” or “my rig’s not ready.” We posted up on the Pirate Board in the hopes of attracting some other hearty souls but only one even responded. He turned out to be very enthusiastic. Jeff, aka “Break it in,” an independent wheeler from Sacto, and his girlfriend Tracy. We planned to hook up with him somewhere on 50 sometime Friday night. If we were true to form it would be real late, possibly even Saturday morning! The plan was to leave from my house in San Jose about 8pm. True to form, Keith was on time. On time to start wrenching on his rig. He even called on his personal tuner “Cucumber” to come over and help get the little Buick in his Jeep to run at anything under 3000 rpm. I thought the neighbors might call the local law enforcement as Cuc made countless runs up and down the street after each attempt at timing the finicky V6. At last satisfied that it wasn’t going to get any better everything was buttoned up and after our goodbyes we headed off with no tops, no doors, a forecast for rain, a little V6 that ran after a fashion and a big halfablazer that couldn’t keep all four wheels on the road at anything over 52 mph. We did however have an amply supply of beer and firewood.

As luck would have it, we didn’t get any rain as we popped and shook up 680, over 580 to 5 and finally onto 50 where we were to call Jeff to arrange a meeting place. In the event we didn’t get in touch with him the backup plan was to meet at the Carrows in Placerville whenever. At about 11 pm I picked an exit and pulled into a gas station to make the call. As I was dialing the local gang/car club/parole convention arrived. Fearing for our lives, we discovered quickly that Jeff was already in Placerville waiting for us! Talk about chomping at the bit. Not needing gas and not wanting to overstay our welcome we headed out, and about midnight rolled into Placerville to meet Jeff and Tracy. Nice guy, well setup Toy, and a go for it attitude. Since everything was closed, Rolo’s stomach was going to have to wait so it was off to the Rubicon. After our final gas stop we headed up Icehouse to Wentworth at 2 in the morning to try to find Airport Flat in the dark with all the landmarks covered with 5 feet of snow. As we climbed, snow started to fall and before you could say “Holy Shit, there’s no more road,” we came to the end of the plowed section. Lock the hubs, throw it in four low, and proceed. Well Keith and Jeff did but I immediately sank to the diffs. I guess fully inflated tires and about 7000lbs of rig and gear don’t mix well with fresh powder. As the snow fell, illuminated by 3 pairs of headlights and with music blaring, I aired down to 5 psi, backed out, and we continued on our way. My compadres didn’t even air down until the following day. Sissy lightweight rigs. We didn’t really know where Airport Flat was so needing to set up camp we pulled onto a side road, pitched the tents, started a fire, and stayed up another couple of hours. After the fire had burned it’s way through the snow to the ground we hit the sack before the rising sun could keep us from going to sleep.

The next morning, or technically, the same morning at about the crack of noon we stumbled out to the smell of Jeff making coffee and beautiful fresh snow everywhere and Airport Flat about 100 ft up the road on the other side of the bridge! At least we were able to sleep in without some crazy vegetable sucking on a duck call. Pack it up and head out to find Wentworth Springs. The snow was perfect. It was the type of snow generations to come will speak of with reverence and awe unless they were the weenies that stayed home. Everyone commented how warm they were the previous night. It was the perfect day! (Get it you guys? You should have gone?) So anyway, up the road we go, stopping for some photo ops with mostly buried road signs, until we come to a fork. Wentworth? Yes? No? We decide it doesn’t really matter because we came here to snow wheel and this is snow so turn to the right. Even the GPS Jeff had wasn’t much help since we were right at the fork and you couldn’t tell exactly where on the road you were. El Rolo blazed the trail 10 feet at a time, backing up and plowing a few more feet over and over until we came to a creek crossing. Never one to turn down a dare, and since I dared him, he dropped off the 5 foot tall snow bank into the creek. With his motorboat exhaust bubbling away he crawled up the other side…..and sank. Hit it with some speed……and sank. Hit it with a lot of speed, wheels in the air, snow flying….and sank. Winch… nope. OK, plan B. Let’s go back and see where the main road goes. After winching him up the other side of the creek we returned to the main road and met up with another adventurous soul. It was Cruzila in his Toyota truck(apparently the Cruiser had taken some damage in a rescue the week before so he was in his backup vehicle.) He had already been up the road a ways but decided to hang with us for a while.

We took the next right(possibly Wentworth) and hit another creek crossing. Keith went right through but as I climbed the other side my engine started to knock. Great, just what I need, A busted truck and a long tow with no power through the snow! Stick a fork in it, it’s done. I backed down into the creek and in about 20 seconds or so the knock went away. Hmmm. Check the oil. Wow, I was sure I checked that before I left. How did I get 2 quarts low? Fill ‘er up and I’m good to go. Again, with Keith blazing trail we continued on our way. Through virgin powder we went until a downed tree stopped us. Not wanting to break out the chainsaw we again turned around to explore further up the main road. As we continued on our way it was obvious that even though it was snowing occasionally the air was warm enough to affect the snow. It started to get wet and then the water turned to ice. So much for our perfect dry powder. It was getting late in the day so we decided to head back to camp before it got too late. We had some wood to burn, some beer to drink, and some beautiful tender Grade A choice New York steaks with new potatoes, beans, and garlic bread to cook. And beer to drink. Funny, no one seemed too interested in my Spam appetizers. Although Cruzila was going home that night he stayed around for a while and his company was welcome. He lives in Georgetown, was only 30 miles from home and wheels the Rubicon whenever he has a free afternoon. God how I hate him. To the tunes of Weird Al, and Disturbed we cooked our food, drank our beer(and other more potent substances) and got to know our new friends while telling ourselves that we were the luckiest people in the world to be here on this night, on this trip, with these people. Scott soon had to head home so we bid him farewell. Then the fun began.

Carl, also know as “Dozer” was a very tired boy and soon fell asleep in my comfortable chair by the warm fire. Of course, not wanting a golden opportunity like that go to waste we stacked liquor bottles on him along with a sign reading “I’m Gay.” The fact that he is had nothing to do with it. We then took close up videos of his most private spots. Hey, I guess you shouldn’t have missed the next meeting, huh Carl? It was all in good fun and after we put his clothes back on him and the Deliverance guy left Carl woke up and we all went to bed after burning all our wood. The next morning we broke camp, took advantage of the photo spot on the bridge at Airport Flat, and headed back towards Icehouse Road. It wasn’t long before I was buried in the icy mess that our perfect power had become. El Rolo tried to yank me but got nowhere and bent my hook mount to boot. I chipped through the blocks of ice under my Blazer and as I cleared the last cubic centimeter from under the rear diff the truck clunked to the ground. With all four wheels back on the ground I was able to back up and get under way. Once we got back on the pavement we aired up and proceeded down Icehouse. The coldest, wettest, dirtiest part of our trip. At least I had windshield wipers. Keith, wearing a garbage bag in an attempt to stay dry had to hang his head out of his Jeep to see where he was going. Of course, Jeff was snug and warm in the cab of his Toyota with a top, doors and a heater. Sissy. Did I mention we don’t have heaters either? We must be insane. By this time, Carl must have been wondering why he ever said he’d go on this trip.

The coffee at Carrows in Placerville was the best I ever tasted. After our break, even though it rained on us pretty much all the way home, I never really felt cold. I felt great and relaxed from such a great trip. Did I say great? Jeff peeled off in Sacto and Keith and I continued to San Jose thinking how the other guys sure missed a GREAT weekend of wheelin’. Thanks to Cruzila for meeting up with us. It was the first time I had met him and he is a very cool guy. Thanks to Jeff and Tracy for taking the plunge and going with us crazy bastards. You’re welcome anytime. Other than us four we only saw one other guy up there the whole weekend. We got back to San Jose and called it a trip. This was indeed a historic outing as this was the last running of the little V6 screamer that gave it’s heart and soul and helped Keith earn the nickname “El Rolo.”