Four-wheeling lessons learned

I have a few hobbies, but four-wheeling has to be at the top. No, I’m not talking what most of you do on those little Hondas, Suzukis or other quads/ATVs. I’m talking about REAL four-wheeling — in Jeeps.

Well, that’s what I’m wheeling these days anyway. In the past I’ve enjoyed off-roading in Chevys, Fords, Dodges — whatever. I currently belong to a local club that accepts all rigs and we have a blast. On New Year’s Day we did a run back to Knik Glacier and wow, lots of lessons reinforced or learned.

We all met up at my house at 8:30 a.m. for a big breakfast before lining up to head out to the Butte as daylight finally started to begin the day. Then our convoy of 15 rigs — mostly Jeeps, but a few Toyotas — drove to the trailhead down past the drag strip where we all jumped out to air down the tires, make last-minute adjustments and the like.

Finally, with my wife leaning out the window snapping pictures, we started off. The weather was warm and we found ourselves driving on hard-packed snow with about an inch of softer, often sloppier stuff on top. Easy.

About 45 minutes into the drive as the trail wound through the trees, we came upon our first obstacle, two stuck Toyotas and an old Cherokee. There was a creek running through the woods and the ice had given way underneath one of the trucks. We all jumped out and proceeded to help them through before staging ourselves to go through. The trail here was narrow, single-file only, so we were surprised when two young gentlemen in a large Ford truck came up behind our group and began honking the horn (what, we’re on a freeway now?), making obscene hand gestures and hollering at us for holding him up.

Within a few minutes he grew impatient and quickly wove his big truck through and around all of us, hammered down the throttle and blasted through the creek, breaking off more ice in the process and causing a few of us to jump out of the way. Well, that wasn’t very nice. Anyway, we finally got all the rigs through and with our new additions to the convoy (the rigs we had helped through) we resumed our trek to the glacier.

Wasn’t long before we came to another creek running across the trail, this one quite a bit deeper and wider than the previous. One guess as to who was stuck in the middle, having broken through the ice in his big Ford truck? Strangely, he was much nicer this time as he asked if we could pull him out.

A couple of us tried. We even lashed up two rigs and tried. No dice. Our small, light rigs wouldn’t even budge that big Ford. He had a shovel and was still digging away as our little trail toys skittered across and kept heading to the glacier. Finally, after 30-plus miles of pushing along, we made it. Beautiful, blue and surrounded by stunning mountains. We spent about an hour there, at one point watching an airplane doing laps back and forth before heading back wherever it had come from. It was pure Alaska and we loved it.

As we lined up to head out we noted that a couple of us were missing. Turns out that one Jeep had fragged the clutch and two other Jeeps had hooked on a line and started towing him out. When we climbed the top of the hill heading out from the glacier we stopped to stand up and try to catch sight of them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Not good, and with spotty cellphone signal it was unlikely we would be able to reach them. We didn’t know if they had CBs.

We proceeded out in the dark, our bright spotlights turning night into day. About halfway out we got the call; our missing three were hopelessly lost. But we were now running low on gas and had to tell them that we would press on, head to my home and form up a rescue party, gas up and return to get them.

So at around 8 p.m. we re-entered the trail, this time with three Jeeps and some extra gas. On the way in we came across Mr. Ford again, still frantically digging. We told him if he was still there on the way back from rescuing our lost friends we would stop. Finally, after driving all the way back to the glacier we found our lost Jeepers. It was amazing they had gotten lost; the glacier to their backs and our tire tracks obviously leading the way out. Glad to have found them, we chastised them for having left on their own early and once again headed out.

And, there, still, was Mr. Ford asking if we would jump in the creek and slog away with him. Nope. Its 11 p.m., dark, we’re tired and some of us have to work in a few hours. But we offered to give them a ride back to the trailhead. He quickly turned sour again and refused. Didn’t want to leave his truck, even after I pointed out that potential car thieves probably wouldn’t be stomping through 30 miles of slush out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night in the off chance a truck would be out there. We made sure he had blankets, cell signal and headed out. We finally made it back out for the second time and all headed home.

Fun trip, but here’s where mistakes were made:

1. Always have a “trail meeting” at the trailhead before heading out. Establish an order that everybody will travel in. Your job is to watch the person behind you. If you can’t see him/her, stop. The person ahead of you will then stop and so on until everybody is on hand to go back and help. Also, pick an order based on capabilities so there is always a rig with a winch/hook points to pull a rig either forward or back.

2. Never off-road by yourself. Always go in at least a pair and make sure both rigs are capable of pulling out the other.

3. Never leave your group. Ever.

4. Radios are a must. You can’t count on cell service.

5. Be nice to others you encounter. You may end up needing their help. Likewise, you are obligated to help others, especially if you’re far from the road.

6. Stay on the trail. Don’t destroy untouched land just because it would be “easier” than staying on the trail. And, of course, police your trash. Pack out what you pack in.

7. If you’re leaking fluids, don’t wheel. More than once I’ve come across tell-tale pink, black or green snow while wheeling and become upset knowing what that means when the snow melts.

8. Bring supplies as if you were spending the night, even if you’re not planning on it. Blankets, material to make a fire, water — you just never know.

Admittedly we knew better, yet still broke some of these rules on New Year’s (trail meeting, etc.) and paid the price. Lesson learned.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column as “Compton’s Corner,” the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist. Contact him at bcompton1971@yahoo.com.