Words by Devin Speers
In my early 20’s, I had the idea that flying 50-year-old Cessna's, Piper's, and de Havilland’s above Northwestern Ontario would be a cool way to make a living. Some days it was. Some days I cursed Orville and Wilbur Wright. After all, any job has its bad days.
The ink was barely dry on my Commercial Pilot's License when I packed all my stuff into an old Jetta TDI and headed north. My head was filled with what became a grand delusion of what my first float-flying season would be like.
Nolan Williamson
This was not unlike the romantic ideas everyone has when they buy their first 4x4 and are ready to hit the trails, especially with off-roading and overlanding gaining popularity. In fact, looking back, I see so many parallels between my first season of what turned out to be hauling garbage and/or other loads in a Cessna 180, with the guy stuck in the bush with his brand-new Jeep and an increasingly angry wife. It comes down to that ‘grand delusion thing’ again. So, I put together a quick list of efforts to smooth those rookie wrinkles when it comes to exploring remote trails and back country roads.
Devon Speers
A blown tire happens when wheeling. It’s not fun, but fixable. Would you rather be stuck in hot, congested city traffic?
1. Things Could Always Be Worse
You had your best laid plans organized for your trip including a list of photos to take, the campfire meals arranged, plus the thrill of burning up hundreds of kilometres while only occasionally seeing another vehicle (after all, these are all the reasons to do this). But did you ever think about getting stuck surrounded by beautiful Mother Nature? No one does the first time. The reality is that a trip can always go sideways. But, when you think about it, at least you’re not stuck in a traffic jam or car accident on the 401 in the Greater Toronto Area or in the George Massey Tunnel on Highway 99 in Vancouver.
This is always the silver lining. You make a couple of mistakes during a rookie season and then you learn how to be prepared for all the next trips. Hopefully, you can go from not being prepared at all (and ruining a great trip), to just minor hurdles and bringing home bragging rights from a rural road or trail.
Devon Speers
Bringing more than what you need may not seem necessary – that it is until you need them.
2. Ease Up on “Stuff” – Be Creative
When I started flying, I insisted on carrying a full kit with all of the essential gear in the event of bad weather and having to spend a night on some shoreline waiting it out – or worse.
In theory, this is a sensible idea. But in reality, there’s about as much room in a Cessna 180 as there is in a two door JK. At the time my bag wasn't revenue cargo and it got stripped down to the bare essentials pretty fast, eliminating gear I never used.
If it’s your first trip out on the trail or rural roads, take the kitchen sink. I promise it will get it thinned out soon enough just by finding multiple jobs for one single piece of gear. Also, it’s worth mentioning I think the greatest tool to ever bless a bush pilot and four-wheelers alike is the Leatherman Super Tool. I have carried this god’s-creation-to-the-outdoor-enthusiast every time I’ve been in the bush since I was 12 or 13.
The fact that I haven’t lost it in almost 20 years speaks volumes. Some other gear that I consider mandatory (even for a day trip) is a good tarp, rope, change of clothes, various items to light a fire, a reliable fixed-blade knife, a saw of some kind, and flashlight and/or headlamp. A water filter, rubber boots, rain gear, a basic tool kit, and of course, all of the essential recovery gear also make it on any given trip. It may sound a little OCD, but bring this gear, especially if you wheel alone. Less stress leads to less “get-home-itis,” which leads to my next point.
Nan Palmero
Remember, calmer minds prevail during the bad times – and a bad day can always become a lot worse.
3. “Get-Home-Itis" is real
The first symptoms of “Get-Home-Itis” are realizing the stupid decisions in hindsight. Pilots will push bad weather, commit to bad landings, and skip checklists just to get home and call it a day.
Having said that, “Get-Home-Itis" seems to strike only when a day has gone straight to the humps of hell. For off-road enthusiasts experiencing the same feeling, trucks can end up on their roof, a tire gets blown, or your axle shaft may end up needing surgery after pushing your rig just a little too hard.
The reality is that you feel it coming on. As soon as you think, "ahh screw it, I’ll just do it and it’ll be fine" refer to point 1. You could have worse days. Taking an extra 10 minutes to calm down may be a pain at the time, but it can be a lifesaver for you and your rig.
Ivan Radic
Man taking a look under the hood of a cross country vehicle
Habitual maintenance means less down time during your travels.
4. Maintenance.
Planes can't pull over. When things break, it gets sketchy up there - really sketchy. The silence of that engine quitting thousands of feet above the ground is deafening – trust me. While you can't quite get in the same pickle with an off-road rig, when you break down on the trail with no fix in sight, it always sucks having to walk out and swat mosquitoes the whole way to a service centre. Simply put, conduct habitual vehicle maintenance and upkeep – whether you do it yourself or have someone else do it for you.
In addition to basic oil changes and tire rotations, spend an extra hour on a good solid visual inspection. In the event you can't or don't want to tackle it yourself, find a mechanic that's also an enthusiast. If you're planning a trip, don't defer anything. Yes, those tires that are starting to dry rot may get you through your commute for a few thousand more miles, but they're lunchmeat to the right rock.
Either fix it or swallow your pride and stay home. I can admit it’s easier said than done. When I was flying full-time, every morning before I took off from the dock every pilot would do a walk around. We would check the control surfaces for damage and free movement (or any other obvious damage); check the engine oil and the prop for damage; drain the water traps in the fuel system; and pump out the floats. Pilots also have to adhere to a very strict maintenance schedule. This routine and the fact that I consider my truck to be my own personal emergency vehicle, has made inspections a die-hard habit.
The maintenance schedule I use for my Frontier is almost wasteful, especially considering I use
AMSOIL Signature Series oil throughout. I change the oil every 8,000 km (4,970 mi) and the rest of the driveline is 40,000 km (24,855 mi), which works out to about once a year. Also, at every interval, I crawl all over the truck and look for anything that could have a remote chance of leaving me stranded. I pay most attention to the front end such as the wheel bearings, tie-rod ends, ball joints, CV boots and shafts, you name it.
I’ll also drop the spare tire, check its pressure and lube up the winch. Working the off-season in a tire shop taught me that no one ever does this. Spare tires are often seized in place, flat, and hardly any consideration was ever given to upgrading the spare after upgrading the other four tires. While a no-brainer, always have a matching serviceable spare. Carrying a plug or repair kit is also a good idea, but it’s not enough. I’ve punched a hole through an aluminum rim when a rock got caught between my brake caliper and wheel. There is no plugging that.
5. Nothing Beats a Shore Lunch.
When it comes to meals, there’s not much more comparable than fresh pickerel right out of a lake and cooked with Fish Crisp. A small cast iron pan, some seasonings, some oil, plus some basic fishing gear doesn’t take up a whole lot of room in a Jeep or truck, and it is so worth it. Then again, don’t count on the fish always biting or finding active lakes during a trip. Always bring foods of your choice and keep them well preserved. Nonetheless, any lunch on any shoreline is about as close to absolute peace as it can get.
And that’s why we do this right?