Rough Recovery in Bear Country!

Off-roading skills were put to the test in BC’s Cariboo region with relentless mud and unforgiving wilderness.

by

Words and Photos by Jared Clark

Last summer, I was visiting family in Horsefly, BC, a rural community in the central Cariboo region. Despite its odd name, the community and surrounding area are beautiful with pristine lakes and rivers, and far from any large commercial centres.

Horsefly is rich in history and the river of the same name was the site of the first significant strike of the 1859 Cariboo Gold Rush. This period in the region led to an onslaught of hopeful miners and further discoveries to the north, which eventually resulted in the boomtown of Barkerville.

One evening during my trip, I wanted to capture a vibrant, colourful sunset. So, off I went in my rig - a Toyota Sequoia - to find a quiet place and take a few photos. This was a spontaneous mini-wheeling adventure with little thought than to simply drive into the bush for a few hours and then return.

A remote region, Horsefly has only one gas station, a general store, and a pub. Other than the main road leading into town from the nearest highway, which is approximately 45 km (28 mi) away, all roads in and out of Horsefly are unpaved and wind their way into dense backcountry.

Needless to say, the area has poor cell service, moose and bear are commonly seen and cattle and horses outnumber humans by a long shot. It doesn’t take long to get into wild places.

My Trail Run

I took a one-lane wooden bridge across the Horsefly River and then continued east on Black Creek Road toward the gentle flanks of what is known locally as Woodjam mountain. In no time, I was driving through a thick forest of pines and aspen groves.

While it’s possible to continue driving for a few more hours to an unmarked western boundary of Wells Grey Provincial Park, I turned off on Sucker Creek Main FSR, then onto Patenaude FSR, and continued east. This is where I came across a single-track logging road, which seemed like it hadn’t been used in a while.

There were many soft spots on the trail and parts were scattered with thick, slick topsoil but it was still fairly easy to navigate. There were some large, shallow puddles and road damage due to erosion, but my rig handled the conditions in four-wheel drive, high range.

Maybe I was distracted by the quickly fading light or the dense forest surrounding the trail, but after going around a bend and into a gentle dip, my trusty Sequoia sank deep into a mud pit and I got stuck - like really stuck - followed by my heart sinking into my gut.

The muck grabbed all four tires and brought the vehicle to a dead stop. It was that heavy, mucky, sticky stuff that can stop even the most tricked-out 4x4’s in its tracks.

I carefully shifted into reverse and let my foot off the brake. Nothing happened. I then gently pushed the gas and while the RPM rose slowly at first, it quickly surged skyward as the tires spun hopelessly. The 4.7 L V8 rumbled eagerly but I just didn’t have any traction. Not wanting to dig in deeper, I let off the gas and put the truck in park.

Recalling an off-road recovery training course I took through Overland Training Canada. I remembered the instructor saying ‘when you get stuck, just stop everything and have a cuppa tea’ (It just so happened I didn’t have any tea).

My Sequoia is a fairly capable off-road vehicle for exploring the bush. It has plenty of power, true low-range gearing and a proper 4x4 drivetrain. I upgraded the tires to larger, aggressive 285/70/17 Goodyear DuraTracs with a three-inch suspension lift courtesy of OME and Bilstein. It’s also equipped with a proper bush bumper and winch, along with a variety of recovery gear stored in the back.

This wasn’t the first time that I’ve been stuck on a trail. But in previous situations, I had been with other wheelers that offered assistance or planned more thoroughly for trouble.

Staying calm and assessing the situation, I remembered the Sequoia was still set up for highway towing (as I had brought my camper for this trip and used it a few days prior). The first thing I did was lower the air pressure in the tires from 45 Psi right down to less than half. I then removed the air pressure from the rear AirLift airbags that were in place to assist with towing, engaged the centre-locking differential, and put the transfer case in low range. Without doing these steps, I didn’t have a fighting chance to get out.

As my family was expecting me back at any time, I sent them a message from my Garmin InReach satellite device, informing them that I was stuck on a trail and would be later than expected. With the truck ready, I looked for a proper anchoring point. I unspooled most of the 30 m (100 ft) of wire cable and found a tree about .3 m (1 ft) in diameter and approximately 9 m (30 ft) tall, which seemed to be a suitable anchoring point.

Using a tree saver, I secured the winch line and made my way back to the truck. I began winching and the aspen tree was ripped right out of the ground, and the cable went limp. Uh oh.

I made my way back to the end of the line with a 6 m (20 ft) extension strap and re-secured the winch cable to a larger pine tree that was a little further away. I did this all the while sinking in the mud so I had to lay logs down to create a path so I wouldn’t get sucked in the muck and lose my shoes.

Confirming there were still a few spools of cable on the winch drum, I once again began winching and drove slowly forward in second gear, being careful not to ‘tug’ on the winch line to prevent any shock-load, which can damage the winch. With this combination, I was able to crawl slowly forward about 6 m (20 ft) to stable ground.

Happy to be out, I re-spooled the cable, gathered my gear and turned around. By this time, it was getting dark and the bloodthirsty mosquitoes were swarming. However, due to the road network, I needed to go back through the same deep mud pit to get home.

This time, I scoped out some potential options by walking ahead (once again skipping from log to log to avoid sinking) and the only viable anchor point was a giant Douglas Fir, which was approximately 24 m (80 ft) ahead and to the right.

I was also thinking I could just hit the mud-hole with more speed and ram my way through it. At the same time, I heard a noise in the bush to my left, thinking it might be a grizzly. In hindsight, it was probably just a squirrel but in any case, it was time to get out of there.

So, I made a run at it. Bouncing off the rev-limiter in second gear-low, the truck made a lot of noise but didn’t go anywhere. My Sequoia was sucked down deep, even worse than the first time. The driver’s side frame was buried.

Out came the shovel and flashlight, and I began digging down around the tires to release the pressure from the suction of the mud, which was like gummy candy. I shovelled quickly while I constantly looked over my shoulder for that imaginary bear.

Satisfied with the amount of digging, I unspooled the winch line and stumbled ahead, eventually securing it to the giant Douglas Fir. This time, I climbed up and secured the line as high up on the trunk as possible.

After a long pull, with multiple breaks to allow the winch motor to cool, I was once again back on solid ground. I realized that securing the cable higher up the tree is what I believe got me out. The anchor point was much higher than the front of the truck. So, not only was the truck being pulled forward, the nose of the truck was being lifted up (ever so slightly).

Covered in sweat, mud, and bug bites, my truck was finally free and the whole ordeal took several hours. However, I made it home with a big smile on my face, having enjoyed the solo adventure.

I discovered a few days later that the mud clogged my rear differential breather, which resulted in a blown seal. While I never did get that stunning sunset photo, I gained something much more valuable – another difficult recovery under my belt and more peace of mind knowing that the right training and equipment can really make a difference in a tough recovery situation on the trail.