Long Island Off Road Trail Ride

The morning broke chilly but not frigid, with a dull gray cloud cover lightly pierced by a late-winter sun. We rolled up I-84 to the exit for the meeting place. When I arrived there were a bunch of guys waiting. Bryan in his brand new TJ Rubicon model, Craig from our Region D fellow club RockAttitude, and the Holton gang were all there. There was a friend of Bryan’s (I really oughta write down people’s names) in a stock TJ with street tires and no tow points up front. We considered telling him he couldn’t come with us, but then left it up to the driver, informing him of the greater potential for damage without properly attached tow-hooks. By the end of the run we were all surprised to see that it wasn’t the stock TJ on street tires that needed the hooks . . . it was the Rubicon, with locking diffs and Goodyear MTR’s. During the day we developed a new mantra, chanting over and over again,” The Rubicon is stuck, the Rubicon is stuck.” Bryan kept blaming it on the low hanging transfer case (a truth) but there is that old expression: “It’s a poor workman who blames the tools.” Bryan has already put some air under his Rubicon, up on 33’s, so we’ll see next time. You decide.

The ride for the Holton gang was short-lived. They had flat-towed their CJ up to Union, and while on the highway, the t-case had popped into gear, grenading it somewhere between NY and Union. We considered a Bonehead for that, but, well, s--- happens. However, their departure does deserve a second consideration for a Bonehead Award. Since their Jeep was un-wheelable, they decided to take off for home, and promptly jack-knifed their rig so badly they damaged their tow-vehicle as well, requiring a tug to get off the shoulder of the road where they accomplished the final insult of the morning. Hard-Luck Bill (remember him? He plans to be out on the trails again come springtime) may be losing his title as hard-luck guy of the club.

We finally got the tow-rigs stowed over at the park’n’ride lot and all lined up by 10:00 am or so and went off to hunt down the trail-head. I only went past it twice, once in each direction, before finding it. We did find some road that was absolutely slick ice to drive on, and that was interesting. Bob Two-Jeeps led the way onto the trail, pushing through the wall of snow piled across the trailhead by the snowplows and rolling on down into the forest.

Wheeling in deep snow is quite a different experience. By my estimate, the average thickness of the snow cover was about two feet. You could walk on top of the snow where the trucks had passed and made ruts, but as soon as you stepped out of the ruts you went in anywhere from mid-calf to mid-thigh. The lead truck had to flail and churn though the snow while creeping along, often stopping to back up and take a run at the deeper more slippery spots. Bobby continued to lead as we came up the first, and really only obstacle (beside the snow) we encountered all day. The trail came up to a fast-flowing stream that runs in a bed about six feet lower than the trail. Here, the trail turns hard to the right, drops down to a less steep entry to the stream, and turns hard back to the left as you enter the stream. On other occasions here I’ve seen the stream rim-deep, today it was mid-door deep with big chunks of ice scattered throughout the stream bed.

The climb out of the stream required you to pop up over a shelf of ice then climb a relatively steep slope that immediately drops into what is normally a long mudhole that is hub-deep. Today it was frozen solid, presenting only a small traction problem in exiting out of it. Bob came up out of the stream and backed into a corner by the start of the mudhole to be in position to help anyone having trouble climbing up out of the stream. Here the stock TJ began to impress all of us. The excellent clearance he had, combined with the tires’ excellent performance on the icy trail worked well for the conditions. No one really had much problem with this part of the trail, and, since I went past Bob to make room for the trucks as they crossed the stream, I took the lead as we pushed on down the road.

Snow-wheeling is a thing unto itself. People won’t believe you when you tell them you can make a Jeep go sideways. Just try it, lock up both your differentials and find some nice deep wet snow. Now try turning while moving slowly . . . see? You’re going sideways! It can happen in gumbo mud, too. I actually did it on purpose once when lodged nose-first against a tree on a trail in Vermont: walked the Barkmobile sideways and popped back onto the trail. The only problem is that it also happens when you don’t mean it to, and that can be disconcerting, depending on what lies over the edge of the trail you’re trying to stay on.

By 2:00 pm we had gotten to Bear Den Road, and the junction to the cool hill climb. After short council on the matter, we decided to turn around. Snowmobilers had groomed and posted the rest of the trail up to the hill and we were concerned about destroying their nicely groomed trail so late in the season, especially as we stood a very good chance of not even making it to the hill, never mind climbing it in the snow. Another significant factor was a little temptation called Jacoby’s, our planned dinner stop for the trip home. Once a regular tradition of LIOR after running trails on Lamentation and Besak, a fine steak place, among other things, and a real favorite of the club. Just ask Wrecker Reed about their hamburger soup one time; you’ll hear a soliloquy elegante that belies his rough exterior.

And, as if to say “Good choice, boys!” just as we started to turn around to head back whence we came, the skies opened up for a five minute downpour of rain and hail that came out of nowhere, ending as suddenly as it started. Sliding back did not take as long, of course, as the trip in, until we got to the stream. Here is where the less aggressive equipment of the stock TJ finally made a negative difference. He had a hard tie climbing out of the stream on the way back. There was a thick ledge of ice about a foot from the bank. He spent enough tie in the stream for his Jeep to fill with water, ice water, mind you. And, he had to keep his feet down in the water in order to operate the pedals . . . c-c-c-c-c-cooold feet!

The only other notable thing on the trail was the exit. Had to climb a steep short grade topped by a mound of plowed up snow. It took me about seven running starts before I blasted through the snow bank onto the road. As we rolled back to the park’n’ride to air up and reconnect, etc, the rain started falling steadily. We managed to all get on the road, and just short of the exit off I-91 for Jacoby’s Christine, Evan’s beautiful wife, called and told him that his basement was flooded. So Evan, with Wrecker in his passenger seat (no soup for you!) and Mark Silverback kept on down the road and missed supper. The rest of us stopped for a nice meal, some camaraderie and a few chuckles. Another fine day off Long Island, ‘wheeling with my buddies. Remember, until next time, keep it rubber down, paint up!