Tellico National Forest, Murphy, North Carolina.
October 24-27th, 2003
Pics waaaay down below.
I had to be in Atlanta the whole week before the MEB Fall
Crawl event in Tellico, so was unable to attend with my Bronco. Lee and
Greg from Texas, specifically Lonestar Bronco, were headed that way for the run so I talked them in
to letting me tag along in their rigs. Greg S rig is silver w/black
flares, Lee's is the pink rig. Yep.
I headed out of Atlanta mid-afternoon on Friday and was soon awestruck by the
mountain views and the gorgeous scenery driving North. The foliage was changing colors,
and lemme tell you now that you don't need to go all the way to New England to
experience the colorful changing of season. That area of Northwest
Georgia/Southwest NorthCarolina/SouthEast Tennessee rivals Vermont/Maine easily.
I got to Murphy NC pretty late in the afternoon, cruised the town, and not
finding the guys I decided to head into the hills towards the staging points and
campground. The rental car was fun on the winding curves and on the crazy
dirt roads to the trailheads. Yeehaw.
I finally found the guys, they had had a fun day running on Lower2 and were just
finishing up a needed meal. We went to Crawford's Camp and hung around the
campfires with lotsa Bronco owners from the East and NorthEast. Everyone
was very nice, and it was neat to be able to finally place faces along with all
the names we'd seen for so long. There was
plenty of goofin' and BS going on around the campfire, but being masters of BS and being goofy
(Ok and certainly influenced by some homemade hooch they forced us to drink) I
think us Texas boys scared these folks some and we found ourselves having run
everyone off. Sure, maybe it was darn late in the evening too, cold, and
perhaps too those other folks knew better than us that the next day's run would be
pretty taxing.
We hooked back up to run SlickRock (starting too damn early) that Saturday morning.
:) Our group was 4-5 very well built Broncos, and we hooked up with 2-3
more at the staging area at the forest entry. It was quite a drive until
we finally headed across a creek and onto a crawling meandering trail. The main
obstacle, SlickRock, was quite a ways in, and was certainly impressive looking, 100yds long with various lines up
across rock ledges and faces. It for the most part was dry, and I figured
all the rigs should be able to crawl it no problem along any creative line.
Wrong. The first two rigs made it without much difficulty.
Lee was poised third, but the first two rigs had upset the dry balance by
somehow causing water to flow in several spots and also spreading some mud
around. Lee could never get any traction at the 1/2 way ridgeline,
regardless of the line or massively heavy use of throttle. Muddied and
frustrated he finally made it up the far left line and scurried up the top (dry)
section easily . Greg was next and got caught up at the same spot halfway.
Lee came back down to give Greg the winch line, and I guess thru my distraction
or inattention Lee got crossed up precariously at the top during turning around.
It was during these maneuverings his front brakes decided to go out. Ulgh.
We got Greg up that lower tough spot and he cooley came up and crawled a new line
on the top left and out. We got Lee outta the way and went and watched the
rest of the folks. Several more rigs needed the strap, but a couple of
rigs made it thru awesomely judicious and heavy use of the go pedal. There
was a good cloud of burnt rubber hanging in the air when our group was done and
we headed out.
The narrow climbing trail from the top of SlickRock claimed a front axle shaft
of a Bronco rig, and there was a Toyota with a zorched clutch that needed a tow out, so the
group split up. Karl took us (ahem, Lee's and Greg' rigs that is) to run
Lower Woodpecker. This was another cool winding 'mountain' trail ride thru
the trees to get to a gnarly obstacle section. There was a fairly stock
Cherokee attempting the main obstacle, and luckily Karl talked enough sense into
the guy before he tried the big steps. Unfortunately the guy managed to
turn back down the hill and get pretty caught up between a rock and a hard
place. We winched a rock out from under the rig and got him outta the way.
Karl crawled up the section to the big ledge and hammered several times, getting
close but not quite up several times, before getting up against a precarious tree
and getting the winch out. I spotted Lee up the bottom part, and was
starting to help Greg up thru that section only to turn around to see Lee
(remember, no front brakes) rev hard and pop up and out of sight over the big
steps and ledge. Easy. No pictures for you, Lee. We got Greg up to the
ledge and he tried several lines and bumps. On this last heavy gas-bump
attempt (foreshadowing here?) his transfer case popped out of front drive at a
bad moment, and his rig hopped up, back, and down real heavily on the rear
wheels. And then when he stopped and put the t-case lever back into place
and motor started again, and went to try again, he only had front drive.
Ulgh. And the back driveshaft was turning. And the rear wheels were
not turning. Hmmmm, bye-bye carrier cross pin. It was quite a winch
and extraction session (thanks Karl!) to get Greg up that part of the trail.
Once up top, we had a long and quite fun and noisy haul outta the park in
Lockrite front wheel drive. Greg was quite determined not to be
on the receiving end of a strap ever again that day. And he wasn't.
We got back to camp finally, Lee played on the rockpiles at Crawfords Camp, and
we had some good bbq. All the other rigs made it back in over the next few
hours, and we heard about some more carnage and a rollover. The skies
began clouding up to rain overnight, and having both rigs slightly injured we
decided against a morning run and trailered the Broncos. We had some more
(sober this time) talks around the campfires with our new friends before heading
out.
Sure enough it was raining the next AM, and we headed outta town for our
1100mile journey home. 2/3 of the way home Greg's tow rig started losing
its alternator. No biggie, until the batteries gave out just out of
Shreveport. And then again just out of Dallas. And then again the
other side of Hillsboro. We stripped the batteries outta the Broncos,
Lee's enclosed trailer, and then got quite proficient at swapping dual batteries
out of one Powerstroke into another, and back, for our repeated charge/discharge
sessions. And then Greg's trailer tire sprouted a hole. But we made
it home finally.
Things I learned:
-"slickrock" in Moab Utah is a
misnomer. "slickrock" in Tellico is a truism.
-"thou shalt not covet another
persons' heavy-modified 900ft/lb Powerstroke-monster tow-rig."
-Fall 'Crawl could be re-named Fall 'Hammer.
-A "Plott" is a Tennessee
bear chasing dog, not a Nadsat (see Clockwork Orange) slang term for a certain
part of a person's body.
-I give up trying to spot for Lee, he
gets after me for pointing him over easy routes, and his vehicle's capabilities
easily overwhelm my understandings of physics for me to be of any assistance
whatsoever to try to get him thru what I think are impossible routes.
-Powerstrokes do funny things when
operated down to 8volts. No headlights, lotsa blinking dash lights, and the
windshield wipers start going?
-Dudes in the South East talk like us Texans. Women in the
South East talk
funny though. But it is cute. For
the first few minutes.
-Fago de Chao is an awesome
restaurant. The one in Atlanta kicked me out for eating too much, sorry
they are closed for a while (until they get more cow). Yumm.
-Greg! Geez...........Don Ho wants his shirt
back. Pronto.
-As per normal, pictures don't do gnarly terrain any justice whatsoeverdammit. These pics from Tellico are prime example.
Click a picture to view in larger size. Then <-Back in your browser to return here.
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