Red Cone

[soilantgreen]

On Friday morning, instead of flat towing the YJ up into the mountains, we left the Super Duty for Chris to drive to work and drove the jeep. We met two of Dan's friends--Azim and Sean--at the Cutthroat Cafe for breakfast.

157 Main
Bailey, CO 80421
(303) 816-5099

The cafe is a small place, barely able to seat twenty. We ate hearty breakfasts amidst blue collar workers on their way to the job and Harley riders who had stopped for a breakfast while riding through the mountains.

After filling up on our huge meals, we headed to the Red Cone trailhead. The guys aired down the tires while I reflected on the pictures I've seen of this trail. One Coloradan explained the trail to me thusly: "It's mainly pretty easy, except for two obstacles. If you get them wrong, you die."

Oh? Is that all?











When we got to the first place on the trail where we needed four wheel drive, Dan moved the shifter into 4 Low and gave it some gas only to hear a sickening sound.

Clang, clang, clang!!! I got out and looked beneath the jeep. The front driveshaft hung at a bad angle. It had sheared two of the bolts out of the pinion yoke, the straps were barely hanging on, and the u-joint caps had been thrown off. Well, that ends our day early, I thought.

After all, I've seen pictures of this trail and its downhill section. I couldn't imagine making it to the 12,800 foot summit with only two wheel drive. "Two wheel drive" is actually a misnomer since both diffs are open. But Dan was confident.



From left to right, Dan, Azim, and Sean. Azim has the white TJ and Sean has the khaki colored Rubicon TJ.


Like the Kingston Peak trail, many parts of this trail are simply gravel road while other parts are small boulder fields that are easily passable if you simply take it slowly and pick a decent line.

[soilantgreen]

Notice where all the numbnuts jerks have carved their names on the aspen trees.


'Not much to look at for rock crawling, but the picture doesn't do the slope justice. In general, most of the pictures don't even come close to showing how steep the hills are.




Oooooh! Pretty!

[soilantgreen]

Dan and I found that it was very difficult to ascend some of the hills in only two wheel drive. We would lose too much momentum on the long hills and bog down until we eventually stopped. Anybody who knows Dan knows that this was our cue to back up to the bottom and hit it with twice the speed.

Several dusty, bouncing seconds later, we'd be at the top with a massive cloud of debris behind us and a soft spot on the side of my head where my skull had hit the roll bar padding several times. I found myself wishing for my TJ since the new model seems to have more padding on the roll cage.










During one of these rocky, high speed hill climbs, we blew up the bolts in the rear pinion yoke as well. I got out when after all forward motion had stopped and looked beneath the loudly banging jeep. Sure enough, the rear driveshaft was hanging like the front one had been an hour ago. I picked up one of the caps for the u-joint and Dan found the other. Not a needle bearing was to be found.

[soilantgreen]

Now at this point, I'm positive that our day is over. After all, we're probably four thousand feet from the summit and the trail only gets harder from there on up. How would we continue without either driveshaft pulling? Prudence calls for us to turn around and roll back down the hill using the brakes to keep things from getting out of hand. We can sit at the trail head and wait for Chris to show up with the Super Duty and get flat towed back to town.

Huh, you don't know Dan then.


Instead, we winched through the rocky sections. We hooked the snatch rope up to one of the TJs and pulled it on smooth sections. On tight turns we hooked the tree saver to sturdy conifers and pulled the YJ to the corner and then pulled it sideways with the strap with a TJ. We spent triple the time necessary completing the ascent. At roughly two thousand feet from the summit, we ran out of juice. The TJs were only digging furrows trying to pull a dead jeep uphill. At one point we had one TJ strapped to the other and the winch rope from the YJ to a TJ. No good; we were stopped.

OK, now we turn around, right?




Nope, in this picture, we're stopped and can't climb any more.



While Dan is brainstorming and I'm fully expecting to turn around and go back down the easy way, I started receiving emails. I have no idea how, since there wasn't a cell tower--or any vestige of civilization--in sight. I emailed back to my customer that I was on vacation and would happily take care of his issue when I returned to Florida on Wednesday, but at that moment, I was at almost 10,000 feet and standing next to a broken rig.

In the meantime, Dan had decided to try to remove the two broken bolts from the rear pinion yoke and, along with the two good bolts from the front yoke, try to put the u-joint back in so that we would have at least rear wheel drive.







While this was going on, Azim was walking up and down the hill and trying to see if he could get some cell service. Every time he tried to call Chris, the phone would cut out. I text-messaged Chris a few times but couldn't be sure that the messages were getting through.


And then I looked to the west and saw this.

[soilantgreen]

"Oh good, there's a storm coming."



Within ten minutes, it started to hit us with a light drizzle that turned to snow. And the snow was clearly meant to be hail by the size of it; it just hadn't made enough upswings into the cloud to get frozen good and solid yet. Imagine someone throwing peas at you and you'll have a good idea of what this snow storm was like. Every few minutes, I'd pull my sweatshirt away from my body and "snap" it and the dry snow would fall off of me. And oddly, in shorts, I was comfortable during this snow fall.







Dan crawled from beneath the YJ and announced, "Let's go". But,how?

He had put the u-joint caps back on the trunion without the needle bearings. We had no idea how long the caps would last, but at least the rear axle would do some work now. Off we went. Climbing again, the summit was visible now. Luckily, the trail was more road than rock climb now. But the hairiest part was yet to come.





Twenty minutes later, after one or two loose rock hill climbs, we made the top. Red Cone is so-named because of the high amount of iron oxide in the rock. As the rains cause it to rust, it runs down hill, streaking the hillsides in a brilliant shade of vermillion. It is quite dramatic.

[soilantgreen]

Copy these coordinates into Google Maps' satellite view and you can see where we are: 39.526829,-105.822321










See that trail that looks almost vertical in the top of the distant mountains? That's Radical Hill.

[soilantgreen]

OK, so we've seen the peak of Red Cone. Where are these obstacles that I've heard so much about? We've been on the trail for too long, the rear pinion has some slop in it and probably isn't long for this world with the jury rigged repair, and to add to the indignity, it's snowing. What are we to do?

Keep eating pretzel sticks of course. Enjoy the view. Don't worry so much. It's cool.



And, now I'm behind the wheel. On the worst part of the trail. Getting down from Red Cone is accomplished by descending a very steep hill of loose, rocky shale. Engine compression is your friend. Use it.

Azim asked at one point how to handle such a section of trail. I told him to put it in four low and first gear, place both feet on the floor and keep them there no matter what your brain tells you, and steer down that hill. Slapping the brake with a panicky foot can easily upset the jeep and the back end may try to pass the front end. And this would not be good.

Azim, to his credit, never touches the brakes. The white TJ goes down and out of site without ever lighting up the brake lights. He joins Sean at the bottom and now it's our turn.

And here I am about to drive a jeep with only one axle working down a steep hill. Three hundred feet of this hill has more elevation change than you will find in all of Florida. Discretion being the better part of valor, I tell Dan that I can't do it. In my jeep, I'd be all over it. In someone else's that isn't operating at 100%, it doesn't seem like a good idea.

So we switch places again. I reach for the seatbelt. Dan says, "I wouldn't advise doing that." Ok, good point. If we screw up at this point, you've got a half mile to roll at a sixty degree angle. I don't want to be strapped to the thing doing the rolling. I'll take my chances with jumping or being thrown out in the first couple of rotations since I know I will not survive the fourteen minutes of rotations that going over one side or the other will cause.

We start over the hill.






Engine compression can only slow us so much. Dan's got the brake almost crushed through the floorboard and even then, the front wheels still turn under the pressure of the jeep going down such a steep hill. Whatever, I'm ready to jump out at any moment so too fast or too slow is the least of my concerns. Dan keeps us on the road, picking the good line and keeping us pointing down without getting sideways.

About two hair raising minutes later, we are down the first part and reunited with the guys. Well, we're alive and the jeep is upright. So far, so good.

"Yeah, but that was the easy part," Dan says.


Looking back up to where we came from.


OK, great, another short hill climb.


The view of "certain death".

[soilantgreen]

So there's a small respite from the descent. We get out and dig the view for a bit. Back up the slope doesn't seem so bad when you're down below and looking back up at it.



And then there's the "real" steep part. Again the other guys go first and make it with no fuss that we can see. Not that we can see anything since once they "tip over" the edge and start down, we can't see them from up above until they reappear at the bottom a few minutes later.





Rumor of my death is over exaggerated.

Looking behind us again.

Off to our left.

And ahead.

[soilantgreen]

This time at the steep part, Dan has the brake pedal to the floor. I lean out and look at the front wheel. It is locked up. And we are still moving. Moving at an alarming rate of speed, I might add. With the front wheels not turning but sliding down the hill, we are descending faster than what the engine compression alone would allow. That's a tad scary.

Whatever, I am still clinging to the plan of jumping out when things go bad. A couple of contusions, abrasions, and a concussion don't sound nearly as ominous as the half hour long train wreck that rolling over the side would produce.









Oh good, there's Radical Hill again.


My photo of the tire not turning during the descent.


Dan's not afeared!

[soilantgreen]

So, now you're in suspense, right? You're wondering if we made it, did the jeep's bailing wire and chewing gum repair hold up, were we able to descend without mishap?


Nope. We died.










I'm posting this from the grave.
























Of course we made it.




Yay, we're through the hard part and we can roll down the comparatively easy downhill grade all the way into Montezuma where we can wait for Chris to come with the truck and "rescue" us. A heated truck sounds good. It is, after all, a bit chilly and I could use something other than pretzel rods to eat. We're less than an hour from being off of a trail that did its best to keep us from completing it. Dan has persevered and kept the jeep moving and here we are; done.

I peed behind one of those trees.


We arrive at a little parking spot in town and a solitary dog comes up and checks us out as if he can't decide whether to bite us all or try to get someone to feed him or scratch his ears. He's big enough to probably take a chunk out of each of us before I can get the Swiss Army knife lodged in his brain. Who am I kidding? This dog was half wolf and mean looking enough that he'd probably swallow my hand with the knife still in it.

"Nice puppy." My standard greeting for all dogs, no matter their age.

He looks at me.

"Hey hound dog. What'd'ya say?"

He wags his tail. Good, he's friendly. I scratch his ears and offer him a pretzel. He checks it out and I toss it about fifteen feet away hoping he'll go over there and check it out. Away from me.

Cool, the dog is happy and wagging now.

Dan is transferring tools and stuff to Sean's khaki TJ. Apparently, I'm going to ride with Azim.

Wait, where are we going? Aren't we going to wait here for Chris? Radical Hill? Really? Wow. Who'd'a thunk it?





More later...

[soilantgreen]

Azim and I are in his white TJ following Sean and Dan in the khaki TJ. A couple of switchbacks and the trail turns rockier, steeper, and narrower. I don't have many pictures of it, because once we reached the last couple of hill climbs, our attention was riveted to making it through the switchbacks and not straying off of the trail. We got to the second to the last major hill climb and it was as narrow as I can stand. Narrower, and I'd have walked it. I like Azim, but I'd just met him. My preference for hairy crap like that is that I drive my own junk. With someone else, I tend to grin and bear it and try to gauge the amount of help/spotting/advice that the driver wants. With Steve Kraft in Moab, I knew Steve needed nothing I could offer. I watched out for where the front tires were when he asked, but he's got more experience than me and I basically just watched the rocks and trees and admired the scenery.

A line from a C.W. McCall song always comes to mind when I'm out west. "My, ain't this pretty up here?" from Wolf Creek Pass always makes me laugh when the possibility of falling for about ten minutes is eminent.


Anyway, Azim and I end up about one hundred feet from the switchback watching Sean and Dan slowly ascending a very narrow and rocky shelf road. I'm looking out the passenger side window at the long slope down to the road below us and Azim is watching the khaki jeep inching up and over rocks in the trail that tip the vehicle precariously towards the edge.

"The trick here, Azim, is not to try to stay so close to the wall side of the road." We watch them some more.

"I mean, I know that the impulse is to stay away from the edge, but getting too close to the wall puts you in a position to constantly be driving over all of that fallen scree and this will tilt us towards the slope side of the shelf."

No response. Sean and Dan move further away from us.

"If we put a tire about a foot from the edge, we'll probably stay pretty flat instead of constantly leaning towards the edge."

The other jeep keeps climbing.

"I know that instinct screams for you to scrape the paint off of the jeep onto the rocks of the wall on our left, but you've got to resist it."

We discuss the issue. Azim's apprehensive. I am too. I would take quite a bit of time working up the courage to drive up that hill. Azim asks, "Do you really want to go up there?"

"Not if you don't" I answer.

We call the other jeep on the radio. A five minute conversation ensues where we express our disinterest in going up that narrow shelf road. Not only would we have to face that crazy looking hill, but once traversed, we have to make a switchback and climb a steeper narrower trail to the peak. Dan cajoles us. Facing a lifetime of being called spineless wimps, we start up the hill.

Azim wants to hug the wall. I want him to move closer to the edge. I think he's crazy for not listening. He thinks I'm crazy for asking him to move over to our right about two feet. "But I can't see how close I am to the edge over there."

"But that's why I'm here. I'm your spotter."

We compromise. He drives and I hold on.

We make it to the switchback which looks quite hairy because we not only have to make the tight turn, but we have to start up a hill that doesn't actually switch back but seems to climb straight up and over. No idea what's on the other side, but we make the turn and go on up. Azim says that he can't see in front of him. Our windshield is full of sky. He's not looking out his side window but I am. "Just keep going; don't stop!"

We near the summit and he's worried that he can't see what's on the other side of the peak of the hill we're climbing. I can see what's up there and it's Dan. He looks like he's standing in our way. Whatever, I tell Azim to keep going straight up knowing that Dan knows that it's his responsibility to move for us. I can't see their jeep and that's what's got me worried. Surely Dan wouldn't let Sean park in a spot where he would be in our way so I put that fear to rest. It worries me for a moment that Dan and I are the two people on this ride that have more experience off road than our drivers, but since both of them are doing fine, I let that fear go too.

Up and over and we've made it to the top of Radical Hill! A sixty mile an hour wind immediately assaults us with freezing temperature and driving snow. We look around for a spot for a picture. Frankly, I don't remember admiring the view because we were so quickly freezing in our shorts and windbreakers that we wanted that picture over with so we could get back into the jeeps and in front of the heaters. The snow was actually "falling" horizontally from the wind's force.

I'm sure the view was incredible. I don't have a photo or even a picture in my mind, since I doubt that I actually looked around. We shot the pictures and got out of there.

Dan and Sean near where the road hits the summit. This is about four hundred feet away from where we took the "good pictures". Azim has those and once he recovers from his arm surgery, I hope he sends them to me.

[soilantgreen]

And here's the only good picture I have of the trail up Radical Hill. It's more of an overall view showing as much of the trail as possible from somewhere near Red Cone's descent.

[soilantgreen]

Dan sent me a link to Azim's pictures so I've got a few more to share.

The four of us at the top of Red Cone.


Azim next to his TJ after coming down the first part of Red Cone with the "snow cloud" behind him.


Azim drives up Radical Hill.


Sean and Dan halfway up the shelf road that caused the anxiety. Damn, pictures just never do the slope justice, do they?



The rest of the trip was spent managing the slow descent down the northwest side of Radical Hill. Lots of scenic panoramas, packed with pines and mountain mist kept us company as we negotiated the twisty, rocky roads. We arrived back at the parking lot where the wolf/dog was guarding the repaired YJ and hit the road. I wasn't sure how the bearingless u-joint would do at speed on paved roads, but it wasn't an issue. We rolled through the barely civilized town of Montezuma and continued on to Dillon. At the Dam Brewery ( http://www.dambrewery.com/ ), we immediately ordered hot chocolates. None of us realized how cold we were until the steaming mugs were in our hands and the warm chocolate hit our bellies. Next came the locally crafted beers. Even I had a beer; an McLuhr's Irish Stout. I find that at least once a year, I must drink one beer to remind myself how much I dislike beer. But this wasn't bad. I didn't order another, but it wasn't horrible. Maybe my search for a beer I will like is getting closer to its end.

While waiting for Chris and Jessica to come with the truck and eat with us, we wolfed down an order of Macho Nachos, nursed our beers, and reviewed the pictures of the day's adventure. It was one of those gatherings with friends that you don't want to end. Food and drink, good friends, and shared dangers well-conquered can make a feast worth lingering over.

After a few hours, the need for rest set in. We headed outside and the guys hooked up the YJ to the towbar on the Super Duty. I was tired and cold enough that I stayed out of the way and enjoyed the heat in the truck's cab, drifting off to sleep easily. I awoke part way home due to the bumping from a road that we were forced to take to detour around a truck crash. Apparently, they're pretty common in the Rockies.


Azim got this picture of it as we passed on the surface road detour.

[Wavydog]

Now that's a trail ride!

[soilantgreen]

Just where the hell have you been?

[Gumby]

You should actually consider writing books. (Probably fiction) Your naration of the ride made the pictures seam unnecesary. Normally when you see pictures of wheeling, you have to imagine the fear the little girls riding next to you are feeling, but you did a great job of describing it.
Very cool place, one day I will get my rig out there. Thanks for sharing.
Gumby

[JonnyRo]

Agreed, dave is an awesome writer.

Dude, what an awesome trip.

By the way, does Dan own any pants? His trademark appears to be arctic weather and shorts.