Collecting mishap photos

Love the prominent 4WD sticker on the truck ... only when they are all on the ground! Cinnabar Hill, CA, 1997.

This is a subject that is very dear to my heart and one that I have much entertainment and education to provide.

Can someone please instruct me on how to post an image in which the image appeara in-line with the post?

It will be worth it to the group.

Bob, you could probably exceed me on this topic.

Bart

A classic mistake. 4WD does not necessarily mean off road.. Some North American vehicles are classed as 4WD but do not have the ground clearance or a proper frame to take those loads as pictured by Bob. Looks like a Mazda MPV minivan of sorts?? How was the outcome Bob??

Bart, when you click 'attach' on your photo, click the 'Create link in message' box. Just click edit>cut>paste in your browser to put the image where you want it.

Continuing the auto theme, a car spotted in the Kalahari, fortunately not from a trip run by yours truly!

Bob

Andrew, this was a real 4WD, a Dodge Suv on truck chassis, plenty of clearance, just an inexperienced driver. Outcome was good, we eventually got enuf people standing on the bumper and hanging out the uphill door to get all 4 back on the ground. A good time was had by all, except the driver who had to change his shorts.

Bob

Hi, Bart.

If you have your images posted online somewhere:

Go to the message toolbar and click on the 10th icon, the one that looks like the sun over two mountain peaks.

When the dialog box opens, just copy and paste the URL where your photo is posted.

Thanks, guys.

I will collect my images and post in-line..

The concept of 4WD is a bit false. Unless one's rig has limited slip differentials front and rear, that rig can quickly become ZERO wheel drive in the mud and irregular driving surface. Before I bought my "Power Lock differentials", I built a lever controlled system that worked on the brakes to stop the the spinning wheel manually and send the power to the wheel that could move me ahead. Cost about $ 20, but a poor substitute for the real McCoy.

Bart

I composed a full page of delightful prose about the trip to the Snook and Ellen.

When I tried to attach the photos, the whole thing went away.

Seems like maybe the in-line photos need to be attached BEFORE the text.

Correct ?

I will try again, but if there is anything I hate more than re-composing text, it might be winching my vehicle back onto a road.

Bart

This is the Snook and Ellen Adventure, and the photos are of an extreme jury rig in the field repair.

Visible gold, shiny gudmundtite xls, aurostibite and sprays of kermesite from 7.200 feet in the high Cascades.

Have I got your attention ?

Some say the worst road in Washington State is the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie River which leads to Bob Jackson's Spruce Claim.

Wrong. That is a cake-walk compared to the road in to the Snook and Ellen in Chelan County.

A 9 mile long boulder filled creek bed which diverges 28 miles above the Cle Elum River Road above Roslyn, the home town of the TV show "Northern Exposure".

The trip in with my constant hiking companion and one time fashion model who named herself "Curtis" was fraught with problems.

At one point the up the road, the frame of my Jeepster Commando twisted so badly that the clutch linkage dropped off, and I was passed on the boulder trail by two DEA agents on extreme enduro bikes who thought there was a drug operation above me.

But the clutch was repaired in about 30 minutes.

At the trailhead I started to notice something not good about the steering system. When Curtis and I got back down to the Jeepster at dusk I inspected the steering system and though it looked OK, but three miles down the boulder bed the steering wheel spun as free as a roullete wheel.

The steering gear box had dropped off the frame horn in the pitch black at 10:30 PM, and was lying on the cobbles of the "road".

I notified Curtis that we would be spending the night in the wilderness. With no sleeping bags and much as I would have liked to cuddle with Curtis for survival, I suggested that we pull everything out of vehicle and take inventory of what we had for a jury rig repair.

Two ton "Power Pull", (a hand operated winch), and a pair of vise grips. I cinched and pinched the steering gear back on the frame

I hoped it would at least get us down to the Cle Elum River road. We inched forward and eventually we found ourselves 28 miles down the road at the well lighted, but close Shell Station in Cle Elum at 1 AM. where I inspected the repair.

Looked good. Got onto Interstate 90 and got back home to Seattle at 70 mph.

One more example of "Bart's Luck".







Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/06/2012 10:27AM by Debbie Woolf.

Failed again. Can't do the "in-line" procedure.

The images are worth opening for the jury rig lover.

Bart

Bart,
Did an old Chinese gentleman ever wish that you might live in interesting times?

Rock Currier
Crystals not pistols.

Rock,

How inscrutable, and oblique.

Are you just about to go to bed or just waking up ?

I am just going to bed, but tomorrow afternoon I will instruct on the use of the "Hi-Lift" truck jack.

Bart

Rock, Again,

With your penchant for photography and collecting all over the planet, you must have at least 100 great mishap photos. Maybe even one taken in my basement. You must have at least one from my old Crown Point Molybdenum mine when you had to cross the roiling waters of Railroad Creek just above the 500 foot edge of Crown Point Falls.

I have a feeling that what with all your travels to hostile territitories, you may even have been killed a couple of times.

Yet there you are.

Regail us, please.

Bart

You're right, Bart, well worth the effort! That is the best McGuiver truck repair I've seen.

I've not had the displeasure of driving the road you speak of, but certainly agree that anyone who thinks the road to Spruce is the worst in Washington has not traveled widely in our state. At times I would have nominated the road to Bald Hornet, where the state would routinely repair washouts with 12 inch minus rock, and the 6 miles of switchbacks were too narrow to accommodate the turning radius of a pickup, so you had to drive one or another leg in reverse. The old road to the Flagstaff Mt. barite mine would be another candidate, 8 miles of driving at a 15 to 20 degree angle to the bedding plane of limestone ... like driving up stairs. A recent project I've been working in Arizona has a road section like Flagstaff Mt., except that there are concretionary interbeds of shale, so the stairsteps are covered in marbles.

You've already topped me ... have more photos? Could be a fun 'competition'.

Bob

How could it be called Railroad Creek, there is no railroad within miles of the place.


Rock Currier
Crystals not pistols.

I like a guy who dresses well for swimming with pry bar.

[edit] Got me, Rock!... didn't read the embedded caption

Bob



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/30/2012 07:17AM by Bob Jackson.

Rock,

You're right. There is no Railroad. My head is hurting now. I have a book which details the entire history of the area.

I'll find out why it's called Railroad Creek. Probably the idea of an early Army Engineer.

Is that Bob Bartsch in the photo ? I didn't know that there was a slow spot anywhere on Railroad Creek.

Remember, never get into a creek that climbs over your knees.

Last time I did, even with an ice axe, within a millisecond, I found myself hurtling downstream with only the spare air in my backpack keeping my head above water.

One more example of "Bart's Luck".

Bart

The good luck for me was not being on board. I loaded the gear, but being a junior member of the party, had to beat shoeleather, didn't get a lift. The good luck for the people on board was crash landing adjacent to a group of doctors on a camping trip. Everyone survived. The pilot actually did a good job of crash-landing, but doubt the company gave him a bonus.

Does it count against my 29 lives if I wasn't on board?

Bob

Bob,

That photo wins. The rest of us can give up on out-doing you.

What is the location ?.

Bart

Bart,
On the shore of Big Heart Lake. Chopper was carrying my then-boss, John Medici, and his 13 year old son Jay. Left from Camp Brown enroute to Katie Belle. They flew, I hiked. When I arrived Katie Belle a few hours later, no chopper, no campers. So hiked back down, drove out, and called the heli company. It was after dark, but the wife of the pilot did not sound worried, or even particularly interested ... said her husband often didn't come home if something interesting happened. So I called the Civil Air Patrol. They were very interested! The next day the Middle Fork looked like an air show. The pilot missed Katie Belle ridge by only 9 miles!

Still looking forward to the high lift photos!

Bob