The last off-road drive on the dunes was scheduled to go into the wee hours running a jeep trail known as 430 route from Horsfall up to Spinreel.  One of the coolest sights is a long line of FJCs driving down the road like pretty maids all in a row.  The trail for Horsfall is south of where we were all staying just off highway 101.  Driving to the trail took us through 35 miles of twisty highway dotted with sleepy little one beach towns.  Each town brought the speed down to 35 mph and as the parade of FJCs passed, town folks would stare and point at us as if the prom queen were ridding by in the back of a caddy.

The day was sunny and bright, the night…  rainy, windy and dark.  Sitting in the staging area we contemplated the dilemma before us.  The locals told us the trail run should take 3 hours. The Forest Service web site shows the dune area open until midnight.  The signs in the staging area says, “Gates Close At 10:00 p.m.”.  The clock in the rig reads 8:15 p.m.

The map showed three exits along the trail and we decided we would pull off at the closest exit when Micky’s big hand pointed to the nine and his little hand pointed to the six (that’s 9:30 if you are doing the metric conversion).  We now had a plan and hit the trail.  Last night I lead the group with all the lights on turning the night into day.  Tonight I ran tail gunners with only the factory headlights as a courtesy to everyone ahead.  The trail is wide, carving its way north through the trees which line the dunes and contain the endless miles of sand.  With windshield wipers on we proceeded and marched in.

When you hear a trail is filled with one foot woopty doos you often picture motocross or desert race courses where rigs glide over as there suspension beats up and down maintaining the speed of a cheetah tearing through the African Savannas.  In reality what you get is a slow train of rigs pointing their nose into the air than back down into the dirt than back into the air and so on and so on like the rhythm of a defective pace maker.  After 10 minutes of watching the lights of the rigs ahead bounce off the tree tops followed by lighting up the dirt we knew why the locals said the run takes 3 hours.  It is good to run lots of different types of trails, that way you know what you like and what you don’t.  The chatter over the CB gave a resounding thumbs down to the ever present woopty doos that stretched across the trail as we all climbed and descended the gentle tree lined hills.

But as the saying goes, you dance with the one who brung ya, and we were determined to make the second exit before the gates locked us in.  It didn’t help that the factory Illumination failed to provide us much depth of field in all the rain, leaving us to wonder if the woopty doos ahead were getting smaller or bigger.  You just knew there were more ahead.

As 9:30 p.m. approached, the sign for the second of the three exits appeared.  The parade of rigs veered to the right and aimed back to the tarmac in order to air up and cruise back north on 101 to Florence.  With rain now on full drenching, we drove the 35 miles north from whence we came and after 45 minutes including a short stop to see one of the few working light houses around, we were saying our good byes over the CB as the group peeled off to their camp sites.  We hoped their tents were on high ground as we contemplated a hot shower, soft bed and HBO.

Bonus Pictures

The wet night run left little room for photo opps, so we thought we would put up a truck load of off-road adventure pictures at flickr off-road adventure that we captured from the previous two day runs. Some you’ve seen, some are new.

Ok, let me start by putting this out there…  While most of the club is camping out by the dunes enjoying the great outdoors, I’m ruffing it in the local Holiday Inn.  And sure I gave up the pit toilet, leaky air mattresses and wet tent for running water, hot showers and sleeping on a soft bed.  Instead of cooking over a Coleman stove I’m  dining our in restaurants.  But somehow I did manage to get get by.

It’s suppose to rain on the Oregon coast in spring…  Just nobody told the high pressure system that is keeping the sun shining this morning.  This morning we gathered at the Goose Pasture staging area to spend the day running the South Jetty to Siltcoos dunes area.  On the way down I had stopped at Metal Tech to say hi and before leaving, Mark boxed up some cool swag which made for some great door prizes and set a positive tone for run.

If you have never been off-road here, the trip is a must.  There is sand stretched out as far as you can see, dotted with little quads that look like ants crawling in the sand.  We learned form last nights hill fiasco and had aired down to 15 psi before we ever hit the dunes.  Now we were riding high on the soft stuff cruising up and down the hills.

I enjoy running as the tail gunner watching everyone play ahead.  This run was no different. With Jeff in the lead we weaved our way all over the sand stopping on top of the dunes to take in the sites and ensure everyone’s’ rig was performing as expected.  And although many of the rigs are sporting a truck load of mods, the stock FJC in the group was easily keeping up…  go figure, Toyota built it pretty well from the start.

My co-pilot for this off-road adventure is an old college buddy, Kevin and while not nearly as excited by wheeling as I am has made this a trip to remember.  Much of what makes wheeling fun isn’t tackling ungodly obstacles or forging raging torrents, although that certainly helps, its the chance to spend time with old friends and meet new ones.  Rolling over the dunes Kevin and I caught up on everything from kids to world politics and still had time to listen to a Jimmy Buffet tune or two.

We had anticipated lunch would have everyone stuck in their rig keeping out of the rain.  What we experienced in a sunshiny little fresh water oasis was the comradeship of the club, chatting, sharing stories of other runs, planning new runs and telling each other how we got into this sport.  We also confirmed there were more girl friends ridding shot gun than wives…  But than again after 20 some years of marriage you learn what is a dating ritual and what is the post wedding reality…  Wouldn’t trade it for the world, Hun…  Really!

The drive over the dunes had taken us from the northern end all the way south and now we dropped down onto the beach to parallel the Pacific as we shot north to meet Brian.  Brian had taken his rig up to Metal Tech where Mark completed axle repairs on the field dressing we performed the day before.  Loosing only half a day’s run, Brain was back as some of the club swung around to head back into the dunes for a few more hours of fun in the dunes.

No one broke anything, no one got hurt and everyone had fun…  Day 2, a very good day.  Tonight we bowl!

The first run on the Florence Oregon Dunes early in the morning brought out the sun…  or at least less clouds and no rain.  After meeting up with the NWFJCC club and airing down, we headed out into the Umpqua Dune area.  This area is marked by wide open sand, along with the biggest dunes of the three OHV areas.

We zigged, we zagged, we played around, going up and down the hills, stopping to watch the other rigs.  Going over the sand we all learned the little tricks.  For instance, staying out of the tracks and driving over the virgin sand allowed you to float and keep your speed rather than chugging in the tracks of others.

Soft sand we could drive over…  how much trouble could this be.  Well let me tell you.  The sand looks flat.  Its not!  Woopty doos appear out of no where, sand that has shifted leaving a drop off where a gentle roll once was, and hills that seem to grow taller and steeper as you run up them.

It was than we heard over the CB, “We just caught air, and crashed”.  As the group regathered to make sure everyone was ok, we found driver and passenger to be fine but after a two point face plant, the rig had its A/C cooler and radiator pushed back a little, with the fender now rubbing against the door.

Some real trail carnage, but no fluids leaking and everything on the rig was still working just fine…  That could have been so much worse…  everyone counted their blessings and we where back to wheeling.

Carnage never seems to travel alone and as we gathered up on the next hill, the group discovered Karma can be a cruel mistress.  From the font of one of the rigs climbing up a small hill in soft sand came a very loud BANG.

If you ever look at an IFS and see goo leaking out of a twisted boot, you know that is not a good thing.  But just how bad it was we still needed to figure out.  Broken axles mean you’re in for a field repair.  Like Apollo 13 engineers, everyone gathered to figure out what we had to work with?

• Spare Axel = zero, nada, none (mine won’t fit other rigs so it doesn’t count)
• Tools = Fair amount
• Hi-lift jack = several
• Healthy attitudes and a willingness to pull together and help out…  everyone

Ok…  We can work with this.  First thing, call MARK AT METAL TECH and get his advice…  Thank God for cell phones.

Step one was to get the wheel off the ground and pull (cut, hack, generally tear) the boot off to discover where the shaft was broken and determine how we could remove to two pieces.  With the hi-lift, we easily got the rig up in the air.  A couple of spare tires became our makeshift jack stands.  In no time the wheel was off and the carnage exposed.  Those with weak stomachs may not want to watch.

Surprisingly the axle was still in one piece but the inner cage of the birfeild (CV to non-Toyota guys) was in pieces, changing our axle extraction ideas.  Another life line call to Mark to discuss a new plan for removing a whole axle with what was on-hand.

After pulling all the metal bits and ball bearings out of the outer CV joint we had a good view of what was still in tack and we could move the axle back and forth giving us some room to play.  The field service was going to involve removing the bolts on the lower control arm that attaches it to the wheel housing so we could swing it out of the way and slide the axle, tri-ball and birfield star out, leaving the housings on both end cups still attached to the rig.

Now just to bolt everything left back into place, throw the wheel back on and jack the rig back down off the spare wheels and the rig was good to go.  2 hours (or so) start to finish and the rig was 2WD now but driving under its own power, steering and stopping just as it should.  Everyone drove the 20 miles back to camp under their own power.

While no one wants to see this happen, wheeling anywhere off-road comes with risks and everyone in the group now knows the value of carrying spare parts along with the needed tools to make field repairs.

Just maybe Karma is not the bitch we thought she was.

And if all this excitement wasn’t enough…  All of us, minus one rig with a missing axle, ran another section of the dunes and beach six hours later in the dark.  This run let everyone show off their lights and I swear the light house guy shed a tear when we turned our roof top off road lights on.  The night run also gave us the sand all to ourselves for a mostly uneventful time…  Of course there was a little butt pucker moment when crossing a creek and I found out just how fast my font end can plunge three feet under water and come back up for air.  Then just to rub a little salt in the wound, on that last dune out, it took me way too many times to make it up hill off the beach.  If fact eventually, I had to air way down with the ocean tide lapping at the wheels in order to climb the hill and get back onto the trail.

Would we do it again… You bet…  and in fact…  Tomorrow we will.