Wheeling Microwave with the Coast Mountain Crawlers	Short Cuts
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By: George Reiswig - 8/2002

Sunday, August 4

Jim Goodwin had contacted local authorities months ago about a trail that was open 10 years ago, but not since. It was gated, but he persuaded authorities to give him the key to the gate. We were going to help him open up this trail for legitimate use by offroaders today. When we got to the head of the road to get in to the trailhead, we found yet another gate across the access road, one for which we did not have a key. Since Jim had been told that there was no law prohibiting public access to this road and trailhead, we were sorely tempted to break the gate by any of various means, but we decided to do a different trail instead.

We hooked up with the Coast Mountain Crawlers and aired down together.

Three vehicles from the Coast Mountain Crawlers, filled with their families, escorted Fred and me up the same trail they had done the previous day. This trail, called variously Microwave (after the microwave repeater at the top) or Winfield Creek (after, as you might expect, a creek that is nearby), winds some 40 kilometers up into the mountains. Nearing the top, we were greeted by panoramic views of nearby and distant peaks, their heads protruding through collars of glacier ice. This is some of the most spectacular scenery I've witnessed: when you read the license plate Beautiful British Columbia, you can believe it. Add to that stunning, incredible, and any superlative you might think of as well. There is probably more near-vertical surface area in this area than there is level surface area.

The tag line on the license plate doesn't lie: Beautiful British Columbia

There were two types of terrain where the smaller, lighter vehicles with better power-to-weight ratios demonstrated the expected advantage. On the first, a steep slope that shot upward at a near 45-degree angle, Grog managed to get a surprising distance up the shale-strewn loose slope using low gearing and lockers. The front tires even made it up over the crux move, a large rock sticking out of one side of the trail. Then the rear tires started digging in to the loose rubble (probably would have helped to have less than 27 pounds in those), and the all momentum ceased. The tread grabbed the large rock and ripped it out of the hillside. I backed down at that point.

Steve, driving his 360-equipped CJ with a spooled rear end, just kept shooting the gravel and rock out from under his tires, and gracefully propelled himself up to the top. None of the other vehicles tried this one.

As we approached the top, the other potential Mog-stopper terrain started to become more prevalent. Here, deep drifts of snow and ice remain, feeding the numerous streams and rivers below. Once again, lower tire pressure might have helped, but 12,000 pounds of Unimog needs a large footprint indeed to stay on top of the snow in the same way that vehicles like Jim's Toyota pickup did. While he daredeviled his way to and fro across the snowfields like he was driving a snowmobile, I tried to drive up one section, and the difference was clear. I immediately sank in, and the only thing keeping me inching forward was the treads on the Michelin XM-47 tires. The tractor-like treads kept chewing snow out from in front of the tires and down to solid footing, allowing for forward progress. The view from the driver's seat showed that the treads were acting like a slow snow sawblade... slow being the operative word here. No point in prolonging the agony, so I backed down to proceed at a more reasonable pace.

Hiking to the top of the ridge rewarded us with this unspeakably beautiful view.

At the top, we left the Unimogs behind and hiked up near the top of the peak. From here, the 360 degree view of the surrounding peaks, glaciers and valleys was overwhelming. We only hope that the photographs we took capture some of the grandeur we saw this day. Astonishing, and beyond description.

Mog-to-Mog Resuscitation.

Later, on the way down, Fred chose a line across one of the snowfields and seemed to be doing well until he suddenly lurched to one side. The icefield was undercut by meltwater, and he had fallen through. The level of the ice was three quarters of the way up his tire diameter, so forward progress was unlikely. We hooked a tow strap between the two Unimogs, and I gave Fred enough tension on it that he could get back on some solid ground.

A beautiful day with a few challenges. Just what the doctor ordered.

After a day of running the trails, I can honestly say that I'm happy that it runs, but disappointed that I didn't gain more power from the valves being set up properly. I am having a hard time keeping up with Fred on the highway. (Editor's note: Fred's truck has the same motor, similar transmission gearing, and about the same laden weight -- George's smaller tires should offer less resistance, but Fred's larger tires provide a bit of overdrive that might make up for George's highway-geared axles. Either way, both trucks are oxes, built for low-end, not top speed.)

But it runs, and that makes us happy.