Roads? We don’t need those! The mere fact that a select few of us truly only embrace a road that says deactivated road as a real road on our epic overlanding trips often confuses the non-off roader.
Most of us embark on our journeys by getting to our starting point then bringing out our Backroad map books with the chicken scrawl from our last trip and notes from friends, paired with not-so-great lines on the GPS saying that a goat trail exists here but sure take it!
High atop mountains like Molybdenite, the Shulaps, China Head, and so many others, we sit as kings amongst the passages of time surrounding us, reminded only of our significance when we see the scorched lands of the fires started by humans.
It’s easy to tell a whale of a tale of what that road was like; however, once in a while, reality turns out to be just as legendary as your storyteller shares. When one comes back from a genuine seat of your pants trip, they say no pictures, no proof for a good reason.
This time it would be a small group, the leader known for his crazy choice of building questionable bridges where none existed. I had often heard of previous years’ epic brigades and was overdue for some trail time.
We headed up the Canyon, meeting the others in Spences Bridge, crossing over to Lillooet through the backroads. We explored several of the decaying roads to find Earth Lake; however, its key would elude us. Along the way, we found the remains of time making its marks on a few old cabins, paired with the scattered signs of life from the previous mining camps. As we came out, our paths crossed an intriguing relic, nestled amongst a field that had employed the crickets to tell us that we had found a home for the night.
The next morning we departed for a few more unknown trails, at one point crossing over a rather large deactivated cross ditch. The kind of ditch that enjoys eroding with each truck that goes through it, leaving a perfect setup to flip a truck into the gully.
A short bit later, we crested a hill and opted to settle in at a lake that was offering a refreshing dive to wash the few days of trail dust off. However, I’ve always felt there is nothing odder than looking down at the small guppies nibbling at your toes and wondering if they are piranhas as the music of jaws runs through your head.
I sat there under the full moon; the touch of the moon’s rays on me almost felt like fingers caressing my skin. The next day would challenge me to make a sound judgement on where my limits were and just how crazy we are in doing this sport.
I’ve always found Chilcotin mornings magical; maybe it’s my childhood spent in the area. There is something about being lost amongst the wheat fields – lying there staring up at the pure blue sky.
We headed out with a bit of off-camber here and a little off-camber there. This time I’d opted to take up the rear as I tend to go at my speed. I’m so used to solo travel that I’m better left at my own pace; I always get there in the end, but with a camera full of stolen moments in time.
We stopped in at the base camp at the bottom of the hill; I wandered around – lost in the relics of the Gimpco Construction Site. I was chuckling as I could imagine the comradeship that would have existed there over the years. Although rudimentary and practical, makeshift construction and tent platforms have always fascinated me; they tell you so much about the humanity of those that lived there.
We talked a bit about the road ahead; I was told it was like Molybdenite. However, something inside of me hesitated based on how they were saying it. For only the 2nd time in my life, I asked if I could ride instead of drive, as something in me put the breaks on and said I think I’m over my limit with this one. Luckily one of them opted to shuffle some things so I could ride the passenger side.
We headed up the perfectly paved road, stopping every few hundred feet to move small boulders out of the way. As we gazed down, we appreciated the sheer thousand-foot drop off 2 inches away from the driver-side tire.
I looked out the passenger side as we drove further up the road, watching it slightly collapse behind us seconds after. Somehow even though I was smiling nervously, thinking I was going to die, my pure selfish motivation of getting to that vista took over. Meanwhile, I had the fleeting thought of “has the executor on my will been updated?”
With no option to back up or turn around, the goal was reaching a safe point. I sat there at the first lookout point, watching the other trucks slowly moving towards us, realizing this was where I was meant to be. Standing on an unstable road, in a barren expanse, that some human was brave enough to create decades ago in an attempt to find their riches in and amongst the ores of the earth.
In that decay of nature and human effort, you see the truly raw, unadulterated beauty that moves your essence, the visual intrigue of the barren landscape, a juxtaposition to the lush valley below. The serenity in the quiet, in the way the wind and sun quenching the thirst of my soul like one are holding a melting ice cube above you, and you are waiting for that first drip to fall and land on your tongue.
The other trucks arrived; one had almost slipped off the edge as the road had eroded a bit more; the first two trucks passed through. We opted to continue a bit further until it was finally accepted that the trail could no longer be classified as anything other than a goat trail. This was followed by some gentle maneuvering back to the starting point, as there was a possibility it might achieve a slightly higher chance of not dying than just saying screw it pedal to the metal.
As we made our way back down the road, there was one last stop required to safely practice our mountain goat skills – that was shovelling out the road that had collapsed behind us. Of course, the other alternative was to chance it and quickly descend down directly – but it was opted to shovel for some reason. Too bad there wasn’t a 4th shovel for me to help!
We settled into camp, and I reflected on how much I’d grown in my self-confidence and wheeling ability, yet recognized I still had additional lessons to learn. My technical ability in steering the rig is solid. I’ve overcome my fear of rolling or breaking the jeep in a non-drop-off situation.
However, there is this confidence piece when it comes to the 1000 foot drop-offs that at that time still put my stomach in my mouth and made me not a safe driver in them. Yes, we need to push our limits, but there is a reality check that if our adrenalin is unchecked, we need to say no. Adding fuel to the fire in a dangerous situation is asking for problems. In those cases I reserve the right to play the damsel in distress to get the good pictures!
Trix's Trax 