The story below details the Shasta Snow Trip's originator's adventure that was the catalyst for the trip.
By Brian Piercy-The Split Bus Club
The journey started on January 16th, 2000 in Sacramento after a dirt bike race at Prairie City OHV Park. I had wanted to familiarize myself with the effectiveness of snow chains on my '65 VW single cab and our time had come. I really enjoy a good challenge and especially if it involves a certain degree of risk.... it just makes the success of the event that much better. This time however, my personal challenge proved to be a little more hairy than I was gambling for. The mission was to get through highway 162 and Northern California's Mendocino Pass after a good storm, in the dead of winter, just me and the stock 6-volt truck.
Ever since my experience in the Marine Corps, I've had a very, very hard time with people blindly stating:" You can't do that."," You won't make It.", "It's not possible." etc., etc. Who gives these people ass cheeks on their faces to say things like that? Sometimes they're right, however, more often than not, they're wrong. Really. And it happened on this trip at the race in Sacramento. The unusual thing was that the man who informed me that I wouldn't make it was very qualified to say so, as he lived, coincidentally at the base of 162 and knew very well of the many who, in the winter, end up getting towed out of the mountains above. Despite his annoying prediction of my failure, I continued talking with the very knowledgeable and nice guy and at his request I showed him my topographical map. He continued, that if I was to actually get through the pass, the only way would be...and he indicated on the map, through "the low road". He gave me his business card and invited me to call him if I ran into trouble. Informing him of my provisions and equipment to ease his mind, I thanked him and set off for the white mountains.
Having spent the last 16 hours driving from the Santa Rosa to Sacramento, racing a dirt bike for two hours against a hundred other guys and then driving from Sacramento to Willows was starting to slow me down. My daylong adrenaline high was starting to wear off. An indicator of my fading brainpower was that I debated getting a cheap room at the Willows Motel Six. Why not just head up the mountain and save the bread; I had my mummy bag if I got tired? I stayed the night and it was the right decision, my first key decision; little did I realize the energy I would need.
Sore as hell from my previous day's cross country race, I checked out of Willows Motel 6 on I-5 at 11am and with two dirt bikes on tie downs in back, major tools and contingency supplies, I headed up Highway 162 for the trip over the Mendocino Pass to Covelo...population: not very many.
Ahh, yet another off-the-grid un-jammed scenic byway for me to enjoy! A moving, unbelievable landscape of natural beauty for the soothing of the mind and eye. The road winds west, down a long valley floor dotted by a few farms and dominated by grazing lands. As I come over a rise in the road I'm amazed to see a small group of cows leaning up against a barn quickly hiding their cards and dropping down on all fours again! The dealer cow, startled by the sneaky-quick single cab, pinches the card stack and the cards let go in a rainbow of flying cards! Rubbing my eyes as I fly by, I look again and they're just standing around like normal cows, chewing cud. Clever.
The road starts heading up the side of the valley. Up, up and more up until a bridge is crossed and a sign points the way to Covelo. Under the sign another sign has been posted stating: ROAD CLOSED. Undaunted, I press on wondering why Cal Trans had listed it as open on the 24hr Road Conditions Service.
Before setting out on this trip, I inspected and practiced installing the old style chains I was to use and had confidence in them. If I broke a chain, I had repair links. If I tossed a set of chain rubbers, I had a second set and trucker's bungee cords. If I punctured a tire, I had plugs and a full air tank. If I blew a tire, I had a spare, and another one just in case. If the six-volt battery went dead, I had an auxiliary twelve-volt and cables to jump with. If I got struck for some reason, I had a fifty-foot cable and a come-along. Additionally, I carried a floor jack, my full tool box, ten gallons of gas, a fire extinguisher, three quarts of 20/50, food for a week, warm clothing including gloves, good rain gear, military mummy bag, two flashlights, propane lantern, comprehensive first aid kit, camera, cellular phone and most importantly, a current Delorme Northern California Atlas & Gazetteer (Stop reading, go out and buy one of these for your area right now, you'll thank me for it!). If man has made a road, it is detailed within showing topography of the whole area, campsites etc. If all my contingency planning wasn't enough, I could still ride out on one of the two motorcycles in back.
After a spectacularly scenic, second gear, thirty minute drive up the two lane, I pass a sign reading: Mendocino National Forest. Shortly thereafter the paved road ends and as fresh snow covers much of the landscape now, I decide to chain up. Satisfied with the installation of chains, thoroughly organized for a long bumpy ride and heater boxes working like no hippie could believe, I slowly motored up the muddy road and deep into the forest.
About a mile up the road, I came upon a large family happily romping in the snow. Some kids were sliding down the hill on plastic saucers while the others were carefully constructing snowmen. Perhaps they expected no other traffic as they chose to park directly in the center of the road. No problem for the truck with chains on, I just motored around and waved. They stared and smiled as the odd vehicle slowly chugged by. At this point the tracks in the snow up the road were few, but it was reassuring that trucks were pushing through, giving me tracks to follow in.
Driving on fresh snow is weirdly quiet. The truck sort of floats along only jarring when the tires climb out of the tracks. It is quite pleasant. Unusual is the sound of the chains gripping the harder snow and earth beneath, kind of a buzzing vibration. Occasionally I could hear a chain rub on a spring plate but pulling the chain rubbers very taught and adding truckers bungies fixed this.
Back when I was putting the chains on, a truck pulled up, a guy with his son going to play in the snow. He got out to lock his hubs and I thought I noticed something wrong with his face; (another naysayer) we chatted a moment. I said I was going to try to get to Covelo. His response was that I probably wouldn't get through and flatulently said:" I hope you have a cell phone!". I should have thrown him some toilet paper to wipe, as his gurgling noise didn’t make sense. He then headed up before me. As I chugged farther up the snow-covered road, I passed him dragging his child on a saucer behind his truck. I waved and kept on going. Naysayers... Hate em’. In to the still, dark forest...alone.
The sun was out and the sky was clear as I continued up the snowed over road. The tracks that I followed then detoured over to a side road and I stopped to think. I was really thinking hard on this trip for obvious reasons. I knew I was playing with fire. Think smart. The tracks went to the right and I considered that there was a reason for the detour and so I followed them. The trail was first gear steep and eventually leveled out and joined the main road again. Back on track the snow abruptly started getting deeper, at least 12 inches, and I kept on following the tracks of the previous vehicle. No problem with traction, the chains were really amazing. The road continued on along a ridge for a couple of miles and the tracks really started getting comical as their depth began to swallow-up the little single cab. They were wider than my wheelbase and so the truck started to jump from left to right. I continued on, concentrating on driving in one of the tracks with the truck leaning precariously, steering like a stunt driver on two wheels. The truck nearly high-centered, as the snow became 20 inches deep. I had to keep momentum up as snow started piling up over the front bumper! A clearing became visible with a small shed off to the right and I decided to stop and take a break. I found myself saying: "This is crazy!"
I shut down the motor and ate some food while I took the whole scene in. I was starting to have my doubts about making it through. The deep powder was not giving traction; I was spinning the wheels and nearly sticking. At that point the road also made a change in angle, heading uphill again. I decided to get out and walk the “road” and see how much worse it got so as to prevent getting in over my head. The tracks of the vehicle I'd been following start slithering from one side of the road to the other. Dirt stained the whole landscape and snow was piled like arctic anthills all over; it appeared that some sort of war had been fought there. At that point, 250 yards up the road from where I parked, the tracks stop and turn around! It's at times like these that I am reassured my brain does, in fact, function.
After reorganizing the shifted motorcycles, I turn around and attempt to head back out the road when the right chain flies off! I shut down and inspect the chain. One of the main links is broken. I mentally prepare for a protracted repair session.
I put on my sweater and open up the treasure box. I extract the floor jack, my 75lb toolbox, let the rear gate down and set up shop. The old style chain has a hasp similar to a tiny scissor which swings closed locking the other end of the chain in it's crotch. The hasp is held closed by a small swinging catch that is riveted in place. The rivet broke and the small catch was gone. Duplicating this catch, or its function was my mechanical task.
First, I straightened the hasp using a small hammer and the 46mm pig-iron Empi Nut Wrench as an anvil. The hole that the rivet had gone through was useful as I found that a hardened sheet metal screw of close size could be screwed through, hang out the backside enough to lock the swinging hasp closed. Utilizing the vice grips as a vice, I carefully filed the treads of the screw to allow a tight fit, then clipped off the extra threads to prevent poking at the tire. Needing confidence in the repair, I continued by employing the safety wire pliers and wrapping four, perfect, separate, double-strand .028 wire twists around the hasp and a fifth double-pull twist around the backside of the screw. I then cocooned the whole assembly in black, fabric electrical tape. Wheel jacked up, I re-installed the chain with the repaired link on the outside for inspection purposes. Tools all packed away and warming up in the cab, I slowly chugged back down the ridge, now thinking about what the man at the race had said about the low road.
About a mile back I notice a 4x4 road that cuts up to the left. According to the map the road goes up hill for a short distance and then starts descending down...hopefully out of the deep snow. I drive up the trail 200 yards and start getting stuck. I need to know if the trail is actually the low road. I decide to unload the XR 600 and find out. The road does start going down hill, but the snow is way too deep and I head back to the truck. The sun is setting and a bright orange horizon calls for me to take a break. I call my wife and let her know how the journey is going, roughly my location and that I would call her again later with another progress report.
Back on the road, I continue down to the spot where, earlier, the detour I had taken met up with the main road again. I stopped and studied the map. In front of the truck off to the left there appeared to be a continuation of the 4x4 detour and it headed west. It looked promising so I took it. First gear slow, I drove the truck up this snowed-over trail; the wheels churning down six inches until dirt below gave traction. I had to stop once to roll a huge rotted fir log out of the way. After that, I encountered no other obstacles for another mile or so, the trail now illuminated by the 6-volt headlights and heading downhill as indicated.
I came to a clearing and stopped to check out the upcoming section. The trail abruptly cuts to the right, goes off camber and sharply downhill. I decide to gear-up and hike down the trail to see how crazy it gets and where it goes. Coat, sweater and gloves on with flashlight in hand, letting the bright moon illuminate my way, I walk off into the dark forest.
After hiking down a quarter of a mile and observing otherwise negotiable obstacles like two foot, off cambered water bars, I come to a flat, flat... LOGGING ROAD! Could this be the low road? It had to be! Unfortunately, as fun as it would be to moto the truck down the hill, I just couldn't risk sliding off the trail; I would have to keep searching for another way down. So I hike back up to the truck, strip off my coat and gloves, turn the truck around and slowly start making my way back out. At one point where the trail becomes particularly goat-like, the throttle cable freezes and I have to shut it down. At the back, I notice also that the oil is down a quart and add one as I manually snap the throttle arm back a few times. I continue on back out the trail and then further down to the bottom of the detour that earlier in the day I had come up. Looking to my left... THERE IT IS! The low road was covered over and had not been traveled since before the storm. I rolled the truck out onto the logging road and shifted all the way up to third as I blasted down, down, down the mountain headed west. The road was wide enough for two semi's side by side and graded like a freeway.
Soon the road split with a logging road heading up and I take it wanting to see where I had come down from the 4x4 trail. I should have turned around at that point, but I continued up this high logging road until the snow again became to deep. Spinning the wheels, I tossed the other chain. Not wanting to deal with the chain, I chucked it in the back and turned around. Rejoining the low road, this time with only one chain, I headed off west again, looking for signs.
The road was so quiet as I floated over the snow. After thirty minutes I started to worry what lay at the end of the road. I wanted to see a sign; anything showing I was going somewhere. The road kept on going. Soon after, it started getting narrower and narrower and boulders lay all over the road until first gear was the only safe speed. Was the road going to dead end? The road opened up again and kept on going. Huge pond-sized puddles lay frozen and with my tongue in my throat, the truck blasted through time and time again.
Thirty more minutes pass and I was really getting nervous. Freeing my nerves for a moment, the clutch cable begins to freeze and requires frequent stomping. Then, the throttle sticks and I have to shut it down again and snap the cable free from the back. Although the map showed no other road nearby like the low road, I really wanted to see a sign that could give me a location and prove that I was going somewhere... anywhere was OK at that point. Then, things started to happen. The truck was plowing up a short grade and the engine started missing. OOOHHHKAAAYY... I stopped, and not shutting it down, I poured five gallons in the tank from the Jerry can. Problem solved, I motored on. A mile farther, the snow again becomes so deep that I am forced to stop and try to get the other chain on. I prepare myself for a long delay as I inspect the chain. Amazing! I find nothing wrong with it, and lay it out on the snow for quick installation. Tractor-like traction restored, I blast out of the fluff and continue motoring west. Another mile goes by and the sign I'd been looking for materializes before my eyes: (an arrow pointing left and six letters)...Covelo. I couldn't possibly be out of the woods yet? Not by a long shot.
The road continued to traverse the mountains for another five miles or so and then began to climb aggressively upward. The snow got deeper as I climbed and soon the truck was bogged down enough where first gear was the only way. After ten hours of not knowing if I was going to make it or get stuck or die or what, I had no more fingernails to chew on and my favorite underwear were soiled and starting to ferment. Well, the snow just got deeper and deeper until I really started having second thoughts, but the truck just kept on chugging, churning and pushing; all first gear, all sideways, for thirty minutes. Climbing, climbing, climbing. After what seemed like an eternity at less than walking speed, the most beautiful sight of the whole trip filled the split windshield... children's tracks in the snow!!! They had gotten through from the Covelo side!!! I HAD DONE IT!!! I was screaming in the truck as I crested the Mendocino Pass. I coasted down to the large clearing where the dirt rejoins the pavement and read the sign saying: Covelo 12 miles. Another mile down the road I pulled over for the last time and removed the old chains that I had found in a rusted pale, under a shed, somewhere in Humboldt County. The End