The wheeling world is very small; I’ve been heavily involved with it for about 15 years in various forms. First, getting to know the Herd of Turtles, becoming involved in the Stave Lake Clean-ups, meeting people on the trails, but mostly from sitting on the Board of Directors for the Four Wheel Drive Association of BC. The connections one builds in the wheeling world never cease to amaze me, including the random places where you’ll run into someone you know and how amazing my wheeling family is. A few weekends will stand out in my life for years to come; those where help is when you need it most.
It was meant to be the epic weekend of introducing Darren to the concept of an Overland Expedition and how amazing it is! In reality, it turned into a lesson in how your luck will go when running trails with Kris; and how accommodating my connections in the wheeling world are when something goes South. It was Friday night, and we were headed to Sloquette for the night, hoping to find a spot on the long weekend and soak in the tubs. The next morning head North into the Chilcotin region; little did I expect to spend 3 nights at Sloquette, barely getting into the tubs.
My jeep remains fully packed, so I can head out at a moment’s notice. I got home at about 7, and we jumped in the rigs and headed towards West Harrison. We made the necessary stops at Sylvester for gas, Deroche for Beef Jerky, cold beer, then air down for pure freedom. However, like a misguided 3-hour tour on the SS Minnow, Sloquette would become our Island.
I always run into people I know there; a few years before, on a pitch black night, I had been eavesdropping on a conversation two guys near me were having. They had just returned from a trip up to the NWT/Yukon area; I piped in and started talking about the association and trails I’d run, and we had a few more exchanges. Then one of them paused, shined his flashlight at me, and said, ” Is that you, Kris? Kris Wheeler? Turns out it was my old friend, Russ, with who I’d worked years before. Of all the random places to run back into an old friend, it was great to catch up with him.
We got to the turn-off for the hot springs around 11, and Darren heard a thud immediately after. Crawling under his jeep, his brand-new drive shaft was dangling there like a broken appendage. It had obviously applied a few rounds of pummeling to the underside of his jeep. He crawled under it and realized the u-joint had blown and being a man, decided he’d swap it out, under the jeep, in the middle of the road, in the dark, at 11:30 at night with a hacksaw.
I thought to remove the shaft, put it in 4, head to the springs, set up the tent, and deal with it in the AM. I thought this would be a while, so I grabbed a cold beer and a chair to watch. He attempted several creative ways to remove the broken u-joint, which included a c-clamp, a chisel and hammer, some WD40, some swearing, some beer, and finally a hacksaw, then a bowsaw. Meanwhile, people were pulling up to us, asking how to get to the hot springs; apparently, at 11:30 at night, it is a location that magically can not be found. I found humour in it and started playing the role of a flight attendant; the exits are to the left; if you are lost, simply stay on the road nearest the river, and you will find it!
We’d been there for about 45 minutes on the side of the road, during which I’d unloaded everything out of the back of the jeep. Attempting to find parts to assist this strange need to fix something instead of pulling it and dealing with it in the AM. I just nodded and continued rummaging through the back of the jeep for yet another item when I heard from around the corner – “Kris,” is that you? What the.. what are you doing here in the middle of the road?” My only reply was, “doing what I do best, being the damsel in distress.” It was Justyn, a good friend I hadn’t seen for the better part of a year; he was joining our mutual friend Shane, which meant at least we had a place to land the rigs if there were no other spots.
Darren eventually agreed that it would be better to pull the drive shaft and deal with it in the morning in the light. We headed to camp and were greeted by a smiling Mark, the host who had heard about this adventure. He had set aside a nice spot for us to park the rigs and proceeded to help me get the rooftop tent set up and settled in quickly.
I found over the years that those I meet while out wheeling are the friendliest guys; I’m constantly getting invited to join them back at base or included in their plans for future adventures, and the hospitality never ends. Constantly being offered a beer or whatever they have on the grill. It’s been a great encouragement in my solo wheeling expeditions over the years, as I know I’m always in good hands.
With the light of day, Darren crawled back under the jeep and realized that the end cap on the yoke had busted off, which was stranger than the u-joint blowing. Then a further discovery was made; both the axle shims had busted in half. The axle shifted, causing the issue with the yoke and u-joint; the dancing driveshaft then carved some sexy sheet metal carnage into the muffler. Hence why I’ve never thought it is good to try to diagnose an issue in the dark when you have options; in the words of Fred from Dirt every day, “It’s broke, so we’ll just camp here,”
Plans were made, and the guys agreed to Jeep sit for us while I drove Darren into Pemberton. Asking what could be brought back, we got the normal orders of a case of Canadian, and then the chuckle of the day, could we get some “Plan B.” The most random item I’ve ever been asked for, but happy to pick it up. Made me smile, thinking this whole weekend is about Plan B.
We headed to Pemberton; I figured it should be easy to find new shims. Mark, the camp host, was incredibly helpful, offering us a discount and contact info to find what we needed. Unfortunately, neither Napa, Lordco, nor any locals who answered their phones had the parts we needed.
I thought long and hard about options and called up my friend Matt Ion, asking him to put a shout out to the Facebook world for me to see if anyone had a set they could spare. Yes, we could jimmy rig something to get it to the pavement, but that wasn’t my preferred option since the axle was moving. A short while later, after a few Facebook threads, Matt realized he had a set of shims in his garage waiting to be put in Eugene and would temporarily lend them to us to get Darren out. He even met us in Squamish, where we gladly picked up lunch for him and Julia.
People in the wheeling world go above and beyond for our wheeling family when they need assistance. Despite social media’s challenges, it has given us the benefit of building a very large and well-connected Wheeling family through our province. If it’s 2 AM and you are stuck at the top of a mountain in the middle of the Chilcotin, if you can get the word out that you need help, someone will come to get you. However, you will forever be harassed, and if it’s not life-threatening, they’ll enjoy some wheeling before getting to you, so grab a beer and enjoy the view while you wait.
With the much-needed parts in hand, we headed back towards Sloquette; we arrived back at the crime scene, and Darren was sent to work finishing the shim job on the axle. Took a few more hours, but he succeeded in getting it to hold. Luckily, on the 3rd day of our stint there, we finally had time for a dip in the tubs. And a moment I’ll never forget, literally being asked for a saw at 11 PM on a dirt road to cut out a u-joint.
See you all on the trails!
Trix's Trax 