By Doug Abrams

The first portents of the weekend were not wonderful; a bridge on I-80 west was closed for repair after a tremendous fire and directional hysteria bounded through the membership for a few hours. Some of the discussions that took place have given rise to a new club rule, called Darwin Rule Number 1:
Instructions and directions to all club events, happenings, occurrences and processes will be provided in a clear manner. If an individual is not clever enough work out solutions to problems that may arise when applying these directions to the real world, then this person is just too dumb to ride with LIOR.

I mean, at what point should we let natural selection take over? When the great men that founded this country said, “All men are created equal,” they didn’t mean all people are of equal ability, but that all people are born with the same opportunities, the same chances. It’s not MY fault if you’re too stupid to read a map! (Disclaimer here; before anyone’s shorts get all bound up, there are no, absolutely NO references being made to anyone in particular here. Just generally goofing around . . .) All are welcome to join us, if they can find us, that is.

Taking a mildly circuitous route, we made it out to Hazleton in reasonable time, got our rooms, ate, and bedded down early Friday night, preparing for the early start on Saturday. We had fourteen or fifteen trucks show up at the Texaco station where we met, being hosted by the East Coast 4X4 Experience, who were also hosting Iron in the Pines (a wheeling club from the Pine Barrens area of Jersey) at the same time. In fact, I ran into a couple of fellows, Jack and Chris, who I had met while they were guiding for the Pine Barrens and the Adirondack Jeep Jamborees. After airing down and disconnecting at the Texaco station, we headed on into the Paragon Park staging area; it was a very busy day at Paragon, with several large groups running trail rides at once.

After another half hour of confusion the various groups were sorted out and started departing for the trails. LIOR members ended up dividing into three groups: one group headed for the less challenging trails, and included Marc, Bill, Greg, Ron, and Scott. The rest of us combined with the Iron in the Pines group and headed off to the trail called Whompum, where we split into two groups, each running opposite halves of the Whompum Trail. With me from LIOR were Mark Silverman, Abe K. and his family, and Yaron Z.. If I’ve left any names out, I apologize, and blame the ‘60’s for it.

We started with a steep hill climb with a hard turn to the right at the top of the hill. No one seemed to have any problems with this, and it was here that the two groups on Whompum split. We snaked back down the hill to be confronted with another very steep hill climb up a crumbly bank, with a special surprise at the top. This hill was the bank of a long railway fill left behind from the days of strip mining, just wide enough at the top for a narrow gauge railway to be laid. So as you came over the crest of the embankment you had to turn onto the roadway at the top. Without a lot of turning room at the top this was a little puckery and a good way to get adrenaline going early.

Most of the rest of the ride was unremarkable except that there was plenty of challenge, nice rock gardens and even a few potential danger spots. We finished up the first half of Whompum in the early afternoon at a small trail called Pick Your Poison. I looked at the trail and asked where the trail was. Pick Your Poison opened with a choice; go to the right, which required crawling over a couple of couch-sized boulders with a distinct possibility of rolling hard to the left. If you chose to go in through the left side, the threat of rolling was a little less, but you could definitely end up high centered on a couple of very large boulders. I don’t have the ground clearance to try that trail, and we must all commend Mark S. for representing LIOR, the only one from our club in our group who did PYP. Thank you for saving our faces, Mark. Now go change your shorts. One of the guys from Iron in the Pines broke both axles on PYP, and he was towed out of the park at this point.

Here we ran into the other half of our group and saw the worst damage of the day. Lucy the dog was pulling Ted down a hill when he lost his footing and went down. He sprained his ankle and left a little skin on the rocks there. But we patched Ted up with the miracle repair material, duct tape. You know what they way about red-neck chrome: “Can’t duck it, f___ it”

The top part of Whompum also challenged with a couple of interesting obstacles. One in particular required a climb up over a fairly large rock-face, a hard turn to the right at the top and then crossing wide crack between the next two rocks. Proper alignment was crucial there, and it was the only place all day I was annoyed at my long wheelbase. We all made it through there with some excellent spotting. By 3:00 pm we were back down in the staging area and thought we’d go try another trail at Paragon called Rattler. At this point, Ted, pointing to the balloon his ankle had become, and quite frankly probably thinking of the therapy he could be getting from his new friend Erica, bugged out for home.

Rattler is at the other end of the park form where we were so we had a relatively long ride through what looked like West Virginia, or maybe even some parts of Centereach. A section of land not owned by the park is the home of a community of “hunting camps,” comprised of everything from nice mobile homes to old school busses up on blocks. As we rolled slowly through the community, trying to stir up as little black coal dust off the roads as possible, I could swear I heard Dueling Banjos playing from several of the “porches” around the camp.

As we neared the other end of the park, we were stopped with the news that Rattler still had about 20 trucks up on it due to a breakdown earlier in the day. Here Bob confessed that he was losing a u-joint in his Scout and he bugged out for home. It turns out his u-joint gave out a block from home, so he made the right choice for sure. A few of the guys in our group decided to try a part of the M Trail, very extreme. Chris from Iron in the Pines did a little plop-on-the-side rollover in there, and another guy from Iron in the Pines managed to separate his t-case into parts in there. After a bit of a wait, we decided that it was getting late to try Rattler and so we headed over to the Blueberry Trail. This gave us about another half hour of relatively easy ‘wheeling. The only problem was that it was 5 minutes too much ‘wheeling. Five minutes before we hit the end of the Blueberry trail I cut a sidewall on a rock. Yeesh. I should have left early with Ted and Bob.

We made our way back to the Texaco station on Rte 924, where various members of the group made their various ways home. As usual, insane traffic greeted me around the GW Bridge, causing me to ask the eternal question, “Why am I coming back here?” Paragon is a great place to wheel. A wide variety of trails and skill levels, I’m sure we’ll be back soon. Until next time, rubber down, paint up.

By Marc Ardito
 

The decision was made. After debating whether to go or not, Will and I were in fact going to four-wheel in Pennsylvania at Paragon Park, despite the fact that I would have to go about more than a day without sleep and that our tow hooks were not on the front bumper, but in a box in the back seat. So we left around 2:30 in the morning and eagerly arrived around 6:30 or so at the gas station where my new off-road club, LIOR was meeting. The next hour or so, we hung around and watched the "big rigs" roll in from all ends. Completely modified tj’s, yj’s, and even xj's were present, which all made my stock yj look like a yuppie civic compared to them. Around 8:00 everyone was ready to roll and so we went. One truck after the other like a big parade line. It was a great site seeing 20 or so jeeps in line one after another. It was even better being part of it.

Everyone slowed down as we entered what I thought was a "trail" that led to main area of the park. I put her into 4wd and entered the great heap of dust after all the other trucks. I encountered several bumps and rocks along the way. This had to be the trail, right? Well of course I found out that I was wrong and that this was more of an entrance. As we entered the main area, everyone seemed to be preparing for the day. Well we formed into groups and of course I was placed in the easy or shall we say "less modified" group. Or so I thought it was easy.

Us "less modified" all formed a group of about 6 or so and headed out. Well, actually, sorta up. It was the first minute of my four wheeling career and straight in front of me was my first challenge. A 60-degree hill that looked like it had my gravestone engraved in it. The first few trucks went up and then there was me. Will and I looked at each other, scared shitless. I looked behind me and asked if they were serious about me going up. Indeed they were. After some convincing I put her in 4 low and headed up the hill. Only a quarter of the way, which might have been about 20 feet up, I stalled. I managed to roll back down and I tried it once more. This time making it half way up and stalling. Down I went. I eventually opted for a shortcut up the side of the hill. I had some serious thoughts about giving it up already, going back to Long Island and driving around town with a new wax coat on, looking pretty. Everyone else with a Jeep does it, so why couldn't I? I found enough nerve to forget about giving it up. After all, has my Jeep ever given up on me? Well maybe a couple times, but I’m sure it wasn't on purpose.

So I took the detour and quickly met with the rest of the group at the top. We headed out in a line into some uneasy terrain and even some descent sized mud puddles. Not too bad I thought until we started hitting some rougher ground. Up and down the weak suspension flexed. I started to sweat uncontrollably as the terrain got more difficult. How could I do this to my daily driver? My jeep who's been so faithful and understanding when I needed to get from place to place? It was too late by now to turn back so I uneasily proceeded. And then we hit what looked to me like a dead end. At least for a stock yj. My first mild rock garden. I looked around and realized I had to do this. No questions about it. I took it slow inch by inch. Claaaaaaaaannnnnnggggggg!!!!!! It’s ok, that’s just my skidplate, right? BOOOOOOoooooommmppp!!!!! Oh man, I hope they can airlift me outta this one. I thought I was stuck for sure. Everyone stopped and got out of his or her vehicle and, as a team, guided me through, once again inch by inch. Over one rock and then another until I was out. Impossible I thought, but I do own a Jeep, after all. After changing my underwear we headed on. I felt a bit more confident in my Jeep and, more importantly, in myself. It really felt great to know that everyone was there to help out, too.

We continued for a while and further along the rocks became less of a nuisance and more of a challenge. My next step was the mud trenches. I encountered my first trench in second at full force, not letting up. With mud splattering all over and me and Will pumped up we ran through the mud like nothing could stop us. And nothing did stop us. One and then another. I was having a field day. Surprisingly the mud that my former white Jeep was dressed in didn't upset me but pumped me up even more. Eventually we started heading up to higher ground hitting rocks and all sorts of junk. Only problem was there was only one foot to spare on both sides before pummeling down the edge of a cliff. Carefully I made it through with no major problems. My jeep climbed and maneuvered like the best of them. Next stop was lunch, and thank god, I needed a break to let my heart catch up with the rest of me.

After lunch we headed back out around 1 o'clock into some more heavy terrain. By now the ride was becoming a lot more fun and less nerve wracking. We hit some more gardens with some scrapes and cuts on the bottom to show for and headed for the trenches once again. These were a little bit more than I had in mind. A 4" lift and tires would have proved to been some help considering the constant banging from underneath by rocks in the mud. But we made it. We all stopped and planned our next attack. Except this one seemed a lit too wacky even for me. A straight down drop of about 7 feet into a stream, across it and then back up an even more difficult incline.

I looked for other ways out of this, but nothing came to mind. I watched a few go with anything but the slightest of ease and figured this was going to be a tough one. We made a plan and I tried to stick to it as close as possible. I got in and headed toward the drop. Slowly until I reached the edge and slowly slid down letting the engine compression guide me down with a little work from the brakes. Well I made it down, but that was the easy part. I charged up the incline at what I thought was the right angle until my skid plate got caught on a tree trunk. (Will later told me that the back two wheels were lifted off the ground and the jeep was balanced solely on the plate). The guys did a good job of insuring me nothing was wrong. and I slide back down and tried again. On the way down I knocked my exhaust loose of its clips and into the ground. I tried again and half way up I heard a big CLLLLLaaaaaaannnnnnng!!!!!! By this time I realized I wasn't making it up as I was stuck again. My tires just didn't want to haul me up there. So we had to winch, which could have posed a big problem considering that my tow hooks were in the back seat. Bad place for them, huh? Well, they strapped the front bumper around the whole way and with some pulling from their end and some gas on mine I made it up in one piece. Although my exhaust did sound a bit muffled (the y pipe leading back from the exhaust manifold had bent). I was upset a little but moved on with no problems.

The rest of the trail ride was basically more rock gardens and more skid plate action. With guidance I soon found ways out of the tightest positions. On the home stretch I let Will take over and rested my bones a little. We said all our goodbyes and headed home to Long Island. Overall I had a great time, as Will did also. And the only damage that occurred was bent pipe, which also was hanging extremely loose off the manifold. Cost? $130. Not bad at all. I proved that my yj had it in her to battle the toughest of the tough. I never knew what it was capable of until now. As far as in the future I think a 4" lift and 33's would be a bit more appropriate next time. What an experience though.