These pictures are not for the lighthearted. Southern California trails can get extreme, and I urge you not to try this at home.
Winching yourself out of disaster in inhospitable, remote locations is itself a great accomplishment. This day, with the cards stacked so highly against me I gained new confidence in tackling the worst nature can throw at you. Having the best equipment and the guts to use it saved me.
Perched high on a ridge the approach to my Mom's backyard is a steep technical ascent strewn with weeds, small pebbles and dead leaves. In the 18th century this trail was used by spanish traders, and today they can still be observed in the area performing vital landscaping services.
Far below at the trailhead I walked the best possible line for the ascent, aired down and gritted my teeth. With the locker engaged I was able to negotiate the gravel and find a narrow ledge close in behind the gazebo.
I was in high country. The gravel portion is almost 5 degrees off camber. Very tight clearances raised the possiblity that a side mirror could be touched and thrown out of adjustment. But raised on the road, we SoCal'ers can fix most anything.
The first sign of danger came when it was time to back down. With encouragement from Mom "...get that *(&%@ thing out of here!" I noted wheel slippage as I tried to turn off the precipitous slope.
In one of those life-threatening twists of the great outdoors, a hose had been left in the begonias overnight. At this altitude, it only takes one mistake. In the mud I slid several feet back towards a nandina tree without the traction to turn around it.
I was faced with a crisis decision: Wait for drier weather, or attempt to turn around on the slippery grade. Failure meant possible bending of the tree and a sharp reprimand from the trail boss. But haste was becoming vital. The weather report called for a bitter 65 degrees later in the day. Given my outdoors training I knew I could make it. But would it would be sufficient to dry out the ground?
In any case, the trail boss was becoming agitated, now threatening physical reprisal if her trees were damaged. But I would not dissapoint a fellow wilderness explorer. It was now or never.
In times like these a clear head prevails. I could winch up high enough to turn around on the muddy slope. Turning down the DVD player would help divert additional battery power to the winch. As I left the safety of the car I was reminded of danger all around as mud encrusted my Kenneth Coles. But the survival instinct took over and soon the FJ was turned around and ready for the descent back to the trailhead.
Off the precipice the Demello sliders worked their magic, battling leaves and plastic sprinkler pipe without complaint. The fearsome descent angle caused CD's to fall from their holder like souls heading to their doom. But now was not the time to reach for the CD scratch removal cloth. In any case, rewriteable media are an increasingly inexpensive commodity due to raised production capacities.
Suddenly it was over, and at the bottom I took a moment to feel the sunlight and reflect on the experience. We are a privileged few, we who brave the offroad lifestyle. The dust on the Blackberry. The flecks of mud embracing the cell phone holder like kisses from mother nature.
I had to remind myself not to breathe heavily with excitement and add more Co2 to the planet's death throes.
But perhaps it was in vain anyway. The river at the bottom of the property had recently hit flood stage. Obvious traces of water - probably from polar icecap meltoff - reminded me that humans have only a few weeks of dry earth left to enjoy anyway. You would be hard pressed to find a glacier left in California.
The crossing looked doubtful without a snorkel. With first A-Trac and then the locker, I sawed madly back and forth. But strangely this only caused the car to sink lower into the chasm. I have since taken this up with Toyota and demanded to know how such a design defect can be overlooked.
For some reason the trail boss had anticipated my difficulty. As she arrived I begged her to leave me behind and not endanger the mission, considering the dangers of the area. But she had brought a shovel. "No need for that - I can winch out!", I said proudly. "This" she replied, "is for you to fill in the %^$# tire tracks you put in my stream".
Facing your own mortality gets easier the more you do it. I was soon calm, collected and ready for duty. As a practiced outdoorsman I replaced the natural beauty of this once-raging river with sustainable nearby material. Take nothing - leave nothing behind.
Re: Brutal offroad ordeal - pics
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