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Written by Keith Sheffield/Tahoe World
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Thursday, 30 August 2007 |
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NEVER GO TO THE DESERT
I love that line by Val Kilmer in the 2004 movie Spartan — “Never go to the desert.”
It implies only bad things happen there.
Not true.
Last weekend, I went off roading in the Silver State’s outback with a couple buddies from the Battle Born Cruisers of Northern Nevada.
During a weekend that most likely would’ve been spent catching up on work, or in front of the TV, I instead got the thrill of an on-the-beaten path adventure and learned that “a bad day wheeling beats a good day working.”
Click here to see a slideshow of Keith's photos from the trip
 THE NEWBIE
I met fellow club members Shaun, Dan and John outside Fallon at Harmon Junction on Highway 50, affectionately known as America’s Loneliest Road. Being Toyota owners, Shaun, from Reno, rolled out in his FJ-60 series wagon, Dan, from Fallon, wheels in his trusty FJ-40 Landcruiser, and his buddy John goes everywhere in is SR5 truck, and I showed up in my FJ Cruiser.
I’m the newbie in all respects. I’m new to off roading, as well as Toyota’s off-road heritage. I know it shows. The FJ Cruiser is my first 4X4. Many of these guys have years of off-road knowledge. I don’t. Every trail run is a learning experience.
We convoyed east along the Loneliest Road, past the ever-shifting and majestic Sand Mountain, around the south end of the Stillwater Range, through the U.S. Navy’s portion of Nevada, and then turned north up Dixie Valley Road.
The Dixie Valley opens into a sheet of white alkali expanse. A full lake in the spring, it’s now dry. As the pavement ends, we kick up dust tails for miles, until Dan finds the turnoff to Steamshovel Trail near Cottonwood Canyon.
We are out there, squarely in Nevada’s outback. All that’s left of civilization is a geothermal plant or a radio tower.
 We air down at the trail head, deflating our tires for better traction and grip on the trail. We go up the mountain, I engage my transfer case and go into low range. Slow and steady is the way of the day.
It’s not long before we go up the canyon, crawling over rock, sand and sage brush. Already, we’ve gone a level above my last run with these guys at Jumbo Grade in the spring.
A short while later, we come to a wide spot in the trail. Shaun still hasn’t fully recovered from an illness the previous week. The desert heat and the bumpy trail tell him it’s best to cut the trip short and return Reno. It must be bad. It takes a lot to make a cruiserhead pack up and go home.
CRAWLIN’
My rig is stock. No mods. Not even all-terrain tires. Just off the boat, out of the box, off the lot, and I’m rock crawling. Granted, we’re not on the Rubicon, but I’m crawling.
 I’m getting bounced around, trying to put rubber on anything that looks like it will do damage. For the most part, I’m doing OK. I’ve stalled out more times than I can count, but moving forward and upward.
Then we get to the technical stuff, where we stop, get out and survey the trail. That’s a lot of what wheelin’ is — problem solving. Guys and their toys putting physics and mechanics to the test. And then the rest of the time, we may just go for it.
Mostly, it’s about keeping your wheels on the surface and clearing obstacles. And then there are newbies like me.
It’s not long before I’m facing a bit of a step where we all have two choices. Go head on with the rock face, putting your tires in the right spots, and then up and over. Sounds easy. And with enough modifications, very doable.
I don’t even opt for this choice. Instead, I take the “easier” option and before I know it, Dan and John, who are spotting for me, shout “stop, stop.”
I’ve put my rig on two wheels — one in the front and one in the back (on opposite sides) are in the air. In four wheeling, you don’t want to do this. Especially if you start teetering.
I suspect Dan and John wanted me to stop more for the photo op than to keep me from teetering. Yes, I’m the newbie on two wheels. That should be on the Internet any minute. We correct my path, and I’m out of the technical spot.
 A PIECE OF HISTORY
We continue up the canyon and Dan, who’s leading, stops and signals a photo op across the canyon. A boulder straight out of a scene from Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner sits atop an undersized shelf. It’s bigger than the Tahoe World office building. It’s the smallest big rock formation we see on the trail. The others are just massive, almost beyond description.
We turn up the canyon and around the bend, and there it is — the steamshovel. A piece of Nevada history leftover from the mining days. It’s rusting back into the mountain, but it’s a playground for off roaders like us.
OVERNIGHT
 We set up camp not far from the steamshovel. It’s been a good day’s wheelin’ and it’s time for dinner. Dan and John share the steaks and beers they’ve brought along.
Dan and John became fast friends on the job in Fallon and have been off roading buddies consistently this past summer. Where there’s one, you’ll find the other.
They respect the outdoors, and get out as often as possible. It’s a way to keep one’s sanity after the hustle of everyday life. They like the Battle Born club because no one’s attitude or ego gets in the way. Everyone loves their rigs, modifying them and using them as a tool to get out and explore.
With the moon rising over the mountain, the stories continue and a night as incredible as the day unfolds.
PUCKER FACTOR
 Oh that’s it, I’m a gonner!
Holy crap, I made it!
These two sentiments bounced back and forth in my head as we rolled up the rest of the trail on our way back to civilization — or rather, Lovelock, Nev.
The trail narrowed through high canyons with weather-carved cliffs, with deep drop offs on the driver’s side, that quite frankly at times had me wanting to cry out like a 10-year-old girl with a skinned knee.
It’s called the pucker factor, and because of some heights issues I have, it was in full effect this Sunday morning.
The pucker factor comes into play during those adult years when a frightening event happens, and there’s nothing else left to hold tight to, a certain part of your anatomy starts grabbing as much upholstery as possible until said frightening event passes.
The more frightening the event, the more upholstery is grabbed.
In this case, I thought I cleared a boulder that was poking onto the trail. My rock rails catch the boulder hard, and it pushes me sideways toward the trail edge with the deep drop off.
Oh that’s it, I’m a gonner!
I roll through it and I’m still on the trail
 Holy crap, I made it!
It’s a moment that happens to many, the pucker factor. We clear the narrowest section of trail and look back. Nevada lies below.
It’s all downhill from here.
EPILOGUE
Waiting for my meal to arrive at Austin’s patio Monday night, the mere presence of my rig just outside the wood fence sparked a conversation between friends and family.
It was a classic Tahoe moment.
My rig’s notorious blue paint job was hardly dulled by the layer of caked Nevada high desert dust, mud and sagebrush pinstriping from the previous two days out on Steamshovel Trail.
“What is that? It’s the FJ or the JF,” one gentlemen said to his dining companions, adding he’s been thinking about getting one. Either an FJ Cruiser or a Honda Pilot that is.
He wants a vehicle that will get him out of any situation that comes up.
 From there, the same gentlemen changed the subject inquiring about a possible tax write off if one rented out his timeshare.
After hearing that, I couldn’t help but think … go with the Pilot, friend. It’ll get you there and back to your timeshare the one time it may snow when you’re here.
Unless you’re renting it, of course.
All photos by Keith Sheffield/Tahoe World
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 30 August 2007 )
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