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Our Biggest “Oh Sh!t” Moments
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Our Biggest “Oh Sh!t” Moments
Tech Editor Irons lining up for his moment of glory.
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Our Biggest “Oh Sh!t” Moments
Unfortunately, the moment of glory ended up with a stuck truck and angry family.
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Our Biggest “Oh Sh!t” Moments
While not the exact situation editor Stanley found himself in, his FJ Cruiser was much more sideways heading for the drop at night.
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Our Biggest “Oh Sh!t” Moments
Left without a vehicle in the middle of nowhere is one thing, explaining to Jeep Canada where they can find their luxury 4WD, is another.
By Budd Stanley, Rich Walker, Kris Wheeler and Bryan Irons, photos by the writers
Character building exercises by your humble scribes
By the very nature of our sport, we are bound to have “a moment.” Any time you mix man, machine and nature, a competitive spirit will show itself, and sooner or later, one of these three attributes will fail, resulting in a rush of adrenalin and a steady stream of profanity spewing from the driver’s mouth.
Regardless, for your entertainment, here are a couple of our most memorable “moments” while out on the trails, enjoying the challenges that are the 4WD lifestyle.
Rich Walker
The WERock Backflip
In all honesty, I think my biggest moment came on the first WERock competition I attended in the States. Just coming off back-to-back wins in the Canadian WERock’s, we travelled down to Cedar City, Utah, to keep the streak alive. The first morning, Trevor (my spotter) and I were walking the course to see what we were in for that day. I remember Trev asking me, “You OK man, you’re not saying much?” All I remember was looking at what they had coned off for us to drive on. The first major obstacle of my first course for the day was a 30 ft, near vertical drop that there was no way you could line up going forward. You had to drop off it in reverse. I knew it was doable, but for some reason it got the best of me (mentally) that morning. That was until the window net went up and we put our game faces on. Not only did we stomp the drop, but we ended up doing very well that entire day.
Sunday brought a whole new day of rock crawling and Trev and I were feeling good after the previous day. We cleaned our first two courses and lined up for the 3rd. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but there was one climb (about 2 metres) that was giving some teams issues. The key was to get lined up and fully commit to it. No problem, right? Well, we lined up and committed. Only problem was my passenger side rear tire fell into a crack in the rock wall. This caused the buggy to climb significantly steeper than we had planned. The buggy went nose to the sky and I was still into the throttle with no way to slow it down in time to save it. We ended up doing a complete back flip, landing on the nose first, then the roof, HARD! I was actually a little dazed and the first thing I remember was Trev say, “Dude! That was awesome!” Unfortunately, the buggy was totaled and with damage to the roll cage, the WERock officials wouldn’t let us continue to compete that day. Thus, ending our weekend and placement in the competition.
Bryan Irons
Back when yours truly was young(er) and dumb(er), a small off-road club dubbed SPORC (Spare Parts Off-Road Club) emerged as a place for village idiots to gather and protest their off-road prowess in real life… away from moms watchful eye… with whatever rusty pile we could call a 4WD. I was a founding member, and when Editor Stanley brought up the idea of rekindling a rash better known as “our past” it took me back to the old days. This doesn’t mean that I don’t live on the edge anymore; it just means that my assessment of risk and stupidity has been honed by experience and my protective gear stash has enlarged.
In the Pits
“Don’t let fear and common sense get in your way,” were words bull horned in our direction as we approached what seemed to be a little trail mud/water crossing. The all-Canadian “Poke it with a stick” test was performed and it was determined that “Stinky Jeep” would make it without issue. As we proceeded offshore into the watery soup the nose of the rig dropped - quickly. Water engulfed the hood and the engine sputtered. It was very apparent that we were stuck and bubbling goop started flowing up into the cab in the reverse direction the drain plugs were meant to flow as I peered at the waterline forming on my window. This may not seem that precarious a spot, or a true life changing moment until we bring up the part about my family being there. Drowning with me was my obviously upset six-month pregnant wife, and one year old daughter in the back seat. Good times, dumbass.
The Pucker Factor
The second incident wasn’t even on a trail, but heading to the trail with ex-editor and big shot Albert V. We rolled up to an icy forest service road for a winter adventure that I will never forget. I would be lying to you if I said that I was attentive about every move Al made as we climbed to our air down spot. I was with Albert V for cryin’ out loud. As another twisty canyon curve approached I could hear panic in the words from my chaperone; “Oh $#!)!, Oh $#!)!!!, OH $#!)!!!!!” as we slid to the edge of a slippery canyon wall with only inches to spare and nothing but a 500-metre roll down a hill. The tires were still at street pressure, hubs were unlocked, and my rear end had a firm grasp of the Mastercraft seats in the hopes we would make it out alive with one tire over the edge of impending doom. The next words I remember from Al were “Could you… carefully… climb out and lock in the hubs? After that, go hide by that tree up on the bank and take your phone in case anything happens.”
Budd Stanley
The FJ Cruiser Rallycar
Getting my hands on the first FJ Cruiser in the local press fleet, I decided to do a camping run to Harrison Lake with my adopted 4WD club. Arriving to the trailhead late at night, a good friend and I had a “spirited” drive along the FSR to the north end of the lake to get into camp at a decent hour. Still not too familiar with the road, I happened upon a tightening right-hand corner with a fairly steep drop into a creek bed. While I was going fast, I wasn’t going crazy fast, so stepped over onto the brakes to scrub speed with more than enough braking distance. Problem was a loose bit of gravel triggered the ABS and all of a sudden, I was understeering to the outside of the corner and seemed to be speeding up rather than slowing. Rally senses took over, and luckily, the FJ has a hand brake. With an all mighty tug, I put the big Cruiser into a slid and got back on throttle. With all the FJ’s computers detecting the condition, a chorus of warning lights flashed and bells sounded at me as I tried to thread the needle through the corner. Traction and stability control intervened, making my task even harder. Fighting through Toyota’s panicking computers, I made the corner, straightened out the FJ and calmly continued like nothing happened. This sparked my hatred of driving aids.
Runaway Grand Cherokee
My second biggest moment also happened with a press car, always a little more stressful when you’re dealing with a $50,000 vehicle that has been loaned to you. While on the Border-to-Border Expedition, we found ourselves crawling up the side of a mountain late one night. We were exhausted from a hot day of wheeling. The trail we were on was challenging and yielded a drop into a bottomless pit. I’ve never been a fan of Jeeps ratchet style shifter; I’ve often shifted into Park, only to find it was actually in Reverse. After turning a 90-degree bend on the trail, I threw the Grand Cherokee in Park to scout the road ahead. After getting out, I noticed that the Jeep was rolling backwards towards the massive drop. In a panic, I dove around the open door, and hanging off the steering wheel, I managed to get a foot on the brake just feet from disaster. That was a wakeup call.
Kris Wheeler
Kissing a Cliff
I was headed into Molybdenite Lake for the first time at the end of September; I wanted the geocache that was at the lake. As we hit the fork (where you can go right and up the mountain, or left to the lake), we took note that the snow was starting to fall heavily.
Towards the lake, the trails’ off camber sections became more severe, the road narrower, the drop-off more intense, and the greasy snowpack was only getting deeper. I headed down into a small gully, and on the upswing my rear end slipped towards the edge, and I made the mistake of trying to climb into the mountainside to correct, throwing myself further off camber. Shots of adrenalin raged through my body as I looked at the drop immediately to my left - ohhhh $#!).
Mountainside Slide
Another moment happened when heading towards the top of Granite Mountain; we had made our way to the top of the second switchback and were attempting the third. The road to the top of Granite makes the Molybdenite road look like a paved highway in sections.
We approached the somewhat uncertain portion that had seen better days and started slowly traversing it. As we progressed, we could feel the mountainside on the right quickly sliding towards us, and the low side under us started sliding down the 600m embankment. The vehicle came to a pause, and we was decided that perhaps this was not the day to climb the mountain, unless we wanted to become part of it.