Medical Mini-Expedition, Kentucky Trip Report

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I originally posted a few months ago asking for advice on getting my FJ62 ready for a trip to Mexico to deliver medical supplies.
https://forum.ih8mud.com/expedition-builds/259636-medical-charity-expedition-build-questions.html
Along with all the advice for my truck, I got a some advice on planning that eventually led to setting up a shorter “practice trip” to a mission in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky. We took a few loads of medical, school, and office supplies to Red Bird Mission during the weekend of March 13-16, 2009.


Kenny and Johnny- Feel free to add and/or correct me! And the videos of the trip are posted on our EOE Facebook page linked in my signature. Not exactly high quality entertainment, but it is a good way to waste time! I'll try to get some better quality videos up on my .mac account and link them soon.

 

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Trip Prep

Since my last post asking for advice, I did a few mods and upgrades to get the Cruiser ready for the trip. I replaced my bad calipers with early-90’s 4runner calipers; they would be handy with a fully-loaded 62 in the mountains! I put a new set of shocks on. I installed two Hella driving lights on the bumper for nighttime fog driving; I installed a Hella map light on the dash for navigation and to allow my wife to knit or read in the dark without blinding me. And then my favorite: a new stainless bottle opener from Cruisercrap.com on the front bumper. When you’ve got a mangled front bumper already, you’re less picky about how many holes you drill in it. I thought about putting it on the dash, but nothing says “drinking and driving” like a shiny new bottle opener within arm’s reach. Besides, the front bumper is the best place to open a bottle while you’re leaning on the hood talking. And we did plenty of that!
So here’s the report; it’s a little lengthy, but I tried to cut it up into parts to make it not seem so long. Thanks again to all for advice! The wheels are starting to turn on our next run…

 

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The Plan:

For ten years, my goal has been to plan and execute an international trip to carry medical supplies and/or equipment via 4x4 vehicle to a deserving medical charity in a remote area.
In September (2008), the dream started to take shape when I purchased a gold 1989 FJ62 Toyota Landcruiser with 210,000 miles. Larry followed shortly with his purchase of a 1999 Jeep Wrangler TJ that he affectionately named “The Hammer.”
A trip to western or southern Mexico or Central America requires a lot of planning, funds, experience, and, of course, a pair of well-tuned and maintained 4x4’s (the Landcruiser and the Jeep). While we’re working on our vehicles, finding a support base, and building experience and “street cred,” we need an opportunity to practice and hone our skills, and become more familiar with vehicles on a trip that was longer than our usual holiday commute but not as complicated as a trip to Latin America.
While Larry and I discussed all the options we could think of for our first trip, I remembered a place I had been with my family when I was five years old. Red Bird Mission in Beverly, Kentucky has been helping folks in the Bell-Leslie-Clay County area of southeastern Kentucky since the early 1920’s. They currently have, but are not limited to, a medical clinic and pharmacy, K-12 school, Christmas gift and back-to-school supply programs, and weekly work outreach camps from March to November.
Red Bird Mission needs donations of school, medical, office, and community outreach supplies all year long, and they have a clear, concise list of all needed items posted on their website. They have a great reputation and are an easy place for Larry and I to meet: approximately eleven hours southwest of Baltimore and five hours southeast of Larry’s home near Dayton, Ohio. Add that to the helpful response we received from RBM when I contacted them, and our destination was set. Now we could start collecting and planning.

 

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Collecting:

With our destination chosen around the first week of January, we decided that our goal for collecting supplies would be to get enough to fill the cargo area in my Landcruiser (with the back seat up) and the cargo space on top of Larry’s Tuffy box in his Jeep. We decided it was a modest and achievable goal as the 5’x4’x3’ cargo area could probably be filled with objects we purchase ourselves if no other help was given. We are an unheard-of and untested group, and we wouldn’t have been surprised if we needed to use our own capital to finance our first trip.
Although my father, who had been diagnosed with lung and brain cancer the week we set our trip plans, had faith that supplies would roll in to the point we’d be overwhelmed, by the end of January we had only the few boxes of popsicle sticks that I had purchased for the art department. I was mildly discouraged, but we had set the bar fairly low for the first trip. And yes, I did mentally scoff the idea that we would be overwhelmed with supplies.
Since my wife, Eden, is an art teacher, we tried to focus on getting some art supplies for RBM school. We thought if we made a “wishlist” from a supplier that Eden uses to purchase her classroom supplies, it might be easier for people to help. I emailed it to everyone I could think of, and included a note that we could use medical and office supplies as well. At first, I left a few people from my church staff off the list; I didn’t want to seem like I was forcing them to be involved in my project, especially the people in our young adults group that I still currently lead. Just before sending it, I put them back on the list and edited the note to be sure that it gave the impression that I was informing everyone about the trip and not “guilting” them into helping. Satisfied with the wording, I hit “send” and went to bed.
The next day I received a response from our church. They had a small storage room full of medical supplies leftover from when the church used to take yearly medical mission trips. They had contacted a number of groups about taking the supplies, but the only interested parties wanted Trinity to pay shipping costs. Though many of the items were not on the RBM list, I was informed by RBM that they would gladly take all of the items. Any items they could not use in their clinic would be taken on their staff medical trip to Nicaragua this summer. Score! This would end up being the thirty-five boxes that will fill my Landcruiser with only enough room left for our clothes and a few art supplies.
Now on to Larry: Larry hadn’t had much luck either. His friend Brock who works at nearby Wright-Patterson AFB heard about the trip and wanted to come along. Brock was going to ask around on base and try to fill his 2004 Wrangler TJ for the trip as well.
A few weeks later, in mid-February, Brock was over at Larry’s place one evening and told him that someone had some stuff to donate for the trip. The lady and her husband showed up with a trunk full of donations! She went on to explain that they had seen a 20/20 special a few days earlier about the poverty in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky. When they heard from Brock about our trip plans, they went out and bought enough diapers and other products to fill their car. Thanks to Diane Sawyer, our job of explaining the problems that people in the mountains face just became a lot easier. When Larry sent out an email to a list of his business clients, it was clear that many of them had seen the special report as well. They responded with an outpouring of medical, clothing, and monetary donations to the mission. So with a few more donations from Eden’s sister and a doctor in PA, we were completely full!
The only “problem” left was to figure out how to get some extra medical supplies that had been promised to Larry from Dayton to RBM. Enter Kenny (kennyfj40) : a guy I met here on ih8mud. He had read about some advice I had been asking for about our group and offered his help. He is part of the Bluegrass Cruisers Club near Lexington, Kentucky, and he offered to recruit some friends from the club to carry any extra supplies from Cincinnati to Red Bird, then show us some local four-wheeling fun. The players were set; all that was left was the final trip planning details.

 

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To Red Bird:

After sorting and bringing home the medical supplies the Saturday before we left (March 7th), our small group helped us load the thirty-five boxes into the Cruiser as tightly as possible. Eden and I, having about twice the drive as Larry did from Dayton, were going to leave Friday night, March 13th, after work. While original plans were to Cruiser-camp during the trip to keep costs down, the amount of stuff we ended up taking left no room for anything but the necessities. After work Friday, we threw our bags in the Landcruiser, double-checked our reservations, topped off the old, reliable iPod, and headed south.
Just to start the trip off well, I pulled my little Nikon dig camera to shoot a quick “we’re on our way” video. This led me to drive right past my exit for I-95 South and the first major turn of the trip. Way to go ace.
Friday night was uneventful, but long. We spent an extra hour on the Washington Beltway (I-495 West) in the rain. After six long, dark hours on I-66 West, then I-81 South, we arrived at our destination. A week prior to our trip, I reserved a room for us at the General Francis Marion Hotel in Marion, Virginia. Marion is about thirty miles north of Tennessee on I-81, and the hotel was a great place to sleep. Unfortunately, we were only there for about five hours. I was too sleepy to remember how to get my LAN settings right on my old PC laptop; I tried for a few minutes, then gave up in exhaustion. There would be no trip update to those at home wondering if we were still alive. At 7:30am, we crammed our stuff back in the truck and headed west across the mountains from Abingdon, Virginia.
It rained all day, slowly washing away the last remnants of snow on the hills on either side of the road. We followed the “Lonesome Pine Trail” west through Castlewood, a place Davy Crockett called home for a few years. We continued west over mountain passes toward the Kentucky border.
After crossing into Kentucky, we turned north again and passed through Hazard about 10:00am; then we turned west onto to Hal Rodgers Parkway for the final stretch before we met Larry and the boys in Manchester.
As an amazing coincidence and not due at all to planning on my part, we arrived at the Huddle House in Manchester, Kentucky within two minutes of the Ohio/Kentucky crew. Eden and I were finally able to meet everyone in person: Kenny, Johnny, and Bill all reside near Georgetown, Kentucky and all work in different areas of the Toyota plant there, and Adam and Brock who are Larry’s friends from Dayton.
The Kentucky crew had come to assist Larry with the twenty large boxes we were expecting to carry Red Bird from Dayton. At the last minute, we were only given four of the boxes. The rest are still promised to EOE and hopefully will be used in a future trip. Without the large amount of boxes, Kenny and Bill with their 80 Series Landcruiser and Tundra pickup respectively, took part of the load from the Jeeps so that Brock, Adam, and Larry were not completely packed-in by supplies.
We met long enough to shake hands, fill our tanks, and discuss our plans for the last hour of the trip to Red Bird. Our original plan was to take SR 421/80 to SR 2000 that cut southeast to SR 66 to Red Bird. We had been told the route would be a little more steep and scenic than taking SR 66 South directly from Hal Rodgers Parkway to Red Bird. We started out of Manchester and, mostly due to lack of sleep, I turned the convoy west on SR 80. We had gone a few miles before I realized the error; the small, windy road was not an ideal place to turn around a five-vehicle convoy, so when we had a chance we turned around and aborted the attempt at the more scenic route. We had plenty left to do, and spending hours going circles on mountain roads wouldn’t help the effort.
The ride on SR 66 was beautiful despite the rain and fog. The road follows Red Bird Creek nearly the entire drive with a high bank or cliff on one side and the river on the other. While the road was well-maintained and quite wide enough for two lanes, I quickly noted a difference between these roads and the roads I grew up with in the mountains of western Pennsylvania: the lack of guardrails. Normal 25-45mph driving wasn’t frightening, but it was clear that a misstep on a wet, dark night or snowy patch in the winter could quickly turn into a 20-40 foot drop into the river. The road didn’t invoke fear, but did command a healthy respect for being alert and watchful. I’ve always loved the mountains, and this road with its twists and turns and a few spots where runoff came falling off the rocks above the road had captured my attention. Unfortunately the sixteen miles went by too quickly, and we arrived at Red Bird Mission about 1300hr.

 

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At Red Bird: Unloading and First Tour

Once we arrived, we took a few minutes to stand up and stretch our legs before we met with our contact at Red Bird and Director of Advancement, George Cherry. George was fantastic in the whole process leading up to the trip and a wealth of information on our tour(s). We brought our convoy around to the back of the medical clinic building to the loading dock and proceeded to unload. Along with all the aforementioned medical, school, and hygiene items, we ended up with a healthy dose of donated clothes and jackets from the Ohio crew. The unloading process was fairly anticlimactic; however, as George uttered a few, “there’s more?!’s,” we had a stronger feeling that our modest SUV-loads of supplies were well-received and appreciated. After we had unloaded everything and moved it into its proper home, we were taken on our first tour.
Although the Mission was mostly closed on Saturday, we were still taken on a tour of the empty medical clinic, clothing warehouses, and community store (that was open). The Mission is a well-run, finely-tuned machine! Though the Mission must raise nearly all of its funds from donations and sales from the community and Appalachian craft stores, it is certainly not a place that looks as though it is run on a shoestring budget. The volunteers and staff we met are top-notch. Our tour of the school and workcamp areas would come later. After taking in all the information our mushy brains could handle, we looked over the map and headed south on 66 toward Harlan where we would spend the night.

 

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More Pics from Red Bird:

 

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To Harlan/Black Mountain:

Over the bridge and take a right; our path would take us south on SR 66 away from RBM and over Pine Mountain to Harlan, Kentucky. The road south out of the Mission was still wet and windy with only the six-inch-wide “rumble cuts” in the edge of the lane before a 10-40 foot drop into the brown, swollen creek. Our convoy slowly moved along, again with Kenny and Johnny up front in the 80. Just before we came to the turn on Route 221 which would take us east along the base of Pine Mountain, we drove beside a grass field that stretched out two hundred yards long and about one hundred yards out away from the road. It first caught my attention due to the fact that it was the first real flat space larger than a house foundation that we had seen in a few hours. As my eyes glanced across the field, they focused on a tall, brown object at the far corner staring back at me. Though my brain rejected the information at first, as we closed in I came to the conclusion that, indeed, a lone elk was the animal that had been staring at our strange group of trucks. At the time, I didn’t know that elk had been reintroduced to Eastern Kentucky in the last few decades, but the “elk crossing” sign we passed a quarter-mile down the road confirmed that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. After stopping to take a quick picture, we turned east for a few miles then south again on the nearby road to cross Pine Mountain. Another windy trip over the mountain without much in the way of scenery; our view was hemmed-in by the fog and rain. One notable part was on the descent on the southern side of the mountain, the rocky cliff on the right-hand side actually came out over more than half over the road. With the amount of rocks that fall from the road sides, we weren’t sure how stable the overhang could be. But it certainly made for a beautiful snapshot in the fog. We finished the ride down the mountain and turned right into Harlan.
Harlan, aka “Bloody Harlan,” is a small mining town that is best know for the mine-strike violence in the 1970’s when temporary workers were brought in to work during coal miner’s union strikes. It is also well known in the state for the crime and problems that come with prescription drug abuse and addiction. If I heard the statistic correctly, there is more prescription drug related crime (theft and abuse) in this small town than the rest of the state combined. One of the contributing factors, which parallels the drug problem in our cities, is lack of work. Outside of the coal industry, there is basically nothing. No one in; no one out.
Enter the four-wheeling enthusiast community. While I’m not particularly sure about the origins of the park due mostly to research-laziness on my part, Black Mountain Offroad Park was lined-off and opened for the specific use of 4x4’s, quads, and dirt bikes. The six thousand acre park is part of Kentucky’s highest mountain. It appears to be a well organized park with great maps and signage, and it is a much-needed private infusion of outside dollars into an area that would not otherwise see it.
In fact, this was the reason we had come to the poor, tough, little mountain town. While Kenny said he had usually stayed at the Holiday Inn Express previously, we thought we’d try the slightly cheaper Mount Aire Motel instead. It was a nice little motel, and certainly worth the $10-15/night for the HIE (in my humble opinion). We even had a fridge/micro combo in our room. So we unpacked our things, and we (Eden and I) walked over the Kenny and Johnny’s room to find out what was going on with the rest of our group. Our cells didn’t work at the hotel room, but did quite well in front of the lobby where we had a clear view to the cell tower on the ridge on the other side of town. Larry, Brock, and Adam got a cabin for the night at the northern trailhead to the park in Putney. The boys all wanted to make a 1-2 hour recon trip before dark to get a feel for the park. Eden was completely wiped out, as was I, so she decided to rest at the hotel while I came along for the ride to film and take pics. Due to all the rain and my exhaustion level, I decided to take my old spot riding shotgun Larry in “the Hammer.” Larry’s ’99 TJ is locked, lifted, armored, stroked, and ready for the trails. With maps in hand, we started out from the trailhead with the 80 in the lead; Johnny was our head navigator. Brock and Adam followed in Brock’s ’04 TJ that had a mild lift and BFG AT 32’s. Larry and I were in the caboose with the camera gear. Kenny was the only one who had been to the park before and that was the other end of the park. Also, it wasn’t raining.

 

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Black Mountain: The Plot Thickens

As we started up the “Class 2” entrance road to the park, we began to noticed that the class ratings were a little off. Not that the park organizers had made a mistake, but what were supposed to be easy, dirt, Class 2 roads were washed-out “drainage ditches” today. The rainfall was running down the muddy switchbacks we were following and eroding the loose dirt on top. The three trucks in the convoy were quite capable of continuing the climb through the mess, but I quickly realized that my decision to leave my 62 at the hotel with its stock, all-weather road tires was a brilliant move. What a mess! We had left the cabin about five o’clock and followed a few Class 2 and 3 trails up the mountain to the “Middle Fork Playground.” The Playground was basically a sixty-yard diameter, muddy, circular flat where four or five trails converge. As Kenny popped over the hill, he found a group of five or six truggies (truck-buggies) on the right deciding which trail to take next. On the left was a group to ten or twelve slightly inebriated locals on their quads taking a break to laugh, wrestle, and drink more beer. They were completely covered in mud. Their attention turned to Kenny’s still semi-clean 80 that just popped over the hill next to them; apparently the day before, a Lexus LX-450 of the same vintage had been around the park and had made an impression on them. As Kenny paused to wait for us to catch up, they asked him if he had any Celine Dion CD’s that they could borrow. Now that may be a complement in French Quebec, but I’m not so sure she has much of a following in southeastern Kentucky? Kenny smiled, answered “no,” and offered them an espresso instead. Good comeback Kenny! We pulled up side-by-side to decide which trail to take. We had it mostly narrowed down to a particular trail when our friends on the quads became a little more rowdy. One of them tackled another off of their quad, whilst another tried to run them over. “Ok, good, time to go now,” I added, and we started off again further up the mountain.
About two hours into our trip, we reached another large flat higher on the mountain. The area was not filled with muddy, drunken four-wheelers, so we spent a little more time going over the map. This area had been slightly graded and acted as one of the park’s two helo med-evac pads. In the case of someone getting critically hurt up on the mountain, there were designated “emergency helicopter landing pads” for the quick exit to an appropriate medical center. Another great idea from whomever planned the park. It was still foggy and drizzling and was just starting to get dark. Johnny said we could head back the way we came, or the trail map indicated that we could continue on the path in front of us and make a loop back to the trailhead. We all knew what was behind us. This was a recon trip and the trail ahead of us seemed shorter and was also rated in the Class2-3 range, so we decided to continue on our loop.
The narrow trail rose and fell in elevation a few times; we dropped down over a few muddy rock ledges that were much more fun than frightening. Then the trail turned and began to steadily climb along a narrow ridgeline. At 2400-2600 feet, the ridge-trail was to be respected, but again it was nothing that could be considered “harrowing.” It was just wide enough to carefully step just outside the two-track ruts, with a substantial drop on both sides. With ever-increasing darkness and the fact that we were at least a few hundred feet above the cloud ceiling, we were enjoying and interesting and slightly eerie trail ride. We reached a spot next to a large rock (think house-sized) where the trail rose steeply for a sixty to eighty yard section. It took Kenny a few attempts to make it to the top. We came to the conclusion that tire pressure made the difference when Brock’s Jeep made it on the first try without the mud tires or rear Aussie locker that Kenny had. The Jeep guys ribbed him a little. We took a quick bathroom break while Kenny aired-down his Dick Cepek Mud County’s, and we were on our way again.

 

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Black Mountain: The Late Night on the Mountain Part 1

We were half to two-thirds of the way around our loop with no noticeable issues. Our biggest obstacles had been the slimy-mud hill that gave Kenny a hard time, and the drunken locals at Middle Fork. But with the tires all set and not having seen anyone else for more than an hour, we seemed to be cruising right along. Famous last words…
We reached a fork in the trail. One climbed very steeply to the right; the other was a barely noticeable downgrade to the left. The trail to the right was far more steep then the hill that had given us problems before. Just before the top of the muddy hill it banked hard to the right; beyond that wasn’t visible. There were no trail markers at the split, so we assumed they both were part of the same trail. We decided to take the easier lower trail which was just wide enough for the vehicles, with the right side rising steeply to the upper trail and the left side plunging down somewhere below the clouds. This may sound frightening, again it was comfortably wide enough for the vehicles and still relatively level. So, no problem? We followed each other closely in the fog. The first hundred yards was straight, then the trail bent slightly to the right. As we reached the bend, we realized that the trail was a dead end. Again, not too much of a problem; we just had to carefully back up.
Our convoy was still in the same order: the 80 in the front, Brock’s TJ in the middle, and the Hammer in the rear. We slowly spotted Larry backwards along the trail. It soon became blindingly clear that despite the fact that the trail was reasonably firm as we drove forward, it was deteriorating quickly as we tried to back out. As Larry reversed, the mud on the downhill edge of the trail began to very slowly give. We would guide him back about ten feet, and the Jeep would slowly slide laterally to the edge. He’d pull forward and to the right a few feet, then we would guide him back another ten feet. Wash, rinse, repeat, and in about thirty minutes we had Larry back on the main trail. As we walked back toward the other Jeep and the Cruiser to begin the process again with the Jeep, we saw a noticeable change in the trail. The uphill side stayed firm, but the left side, soaked with days of rainfall, was not holding up well under the weight of the vehicles. With each vehicle movement, it got worse. This was also when we found out that Brock was having issues with his transfer case. Not only did it kick out of low range frequently (which meant that Brock never put it low), but the linkage would fall off periodically and knock the drivetrain into neutral. Although the Jeep’s relatively light weight did help a bit, the lack of mud tires and low range slowed the progress considerably. Yet despite the fact that the trip was starting to wear on all our nerves by this point, we very slowly lead him back and forth until Brock was back on the main trail as well. Second vehicle’s time: more than forty-five minutes for the hundred yard trail. Now for the Landcruiser.
I should mention that throughout the reversing process, Johnny did a fantastic job of spotting and directing the drivers on the muddy edge of a mountain in the dark, thick fog. By now it was about 10:30pm, and we were all tired and frustrated with our situation.
The 80 quickly covered the first twenty feet of firm soil; the Jeeps had not pulled directly up to Kenny’s rear bumper which left a few feet of undisturbed earth. When the big Toyota wagon hit the torn-up section of the trail, it immediately began sliding toward the edge. Attempting to pull forward away from the edge only slid the Cruiser closer. Johnny was visibly frustrated; we paused for a few minutes to come up with a plan.
At this point, I came up with one of my two contributions to getting us off the mountain. I wasn’t so proud that my plan was brilliant; I was just glad that even though I was exhausted, I came up with a simple plan that kept Johnny moving. He had spent the 2 ½ to 3 hours spotting the vehicles in the dark with the vehicle lights reflecting in the fog and mist. I looped Kenny’s tow strap around a nearby tree on the uphill side of the trail and perpendicular to the Cruiser. The other side I locked in the trailer hook on Kenny’s rear bumper. As he backed up, the finite strap length would force the rear end uphill and away from the lower edge. To counteract any sliding that might occur on the front end, we attached his winch cable to a tree on the uphill side as well. Kenny began to slowly bring the 80 back. Amazingly, the rear end pulled uphill, and we were able to tighten or loosen the winch to compensate on the front end. Johnny spotted Kenny back about eight to ten feet until the strap was pulled firmly parallel to the vehicle. We unhooked the cables, reattached them at 90 degrees, and repeat. Move ten feet; repeat. We slowly brought the Cruiser back foot-by-foot until we had it up to the junction with the main trail.
We had another quick meeting about what to do. We had two options: 1) attempt to continue forward up the steep hill ahead and finish our loop, or 2) somehow figure out how to turn the three vehicles 180 degrees on a muddy trail that was just barely wider than the width of a Jeep. As daunting a task it seemed to get our three trucks up the very steep hill ahead (and forward on another unknown trail), it seemed like a better plan to try than turning around on the narrow, slippery trail. Our plan was to leave the Cruiser where it sat just beyond the fork on the lower trail. Then we would use the barely-wider section at the fork to wiggle Larry’s Jeep past Brock’s. Larry and I would try to blast up the trail in the TJ to a point we could stop and winch up Brock’s less-equipped TJ. Then Kenny could winch his 80 up behind us. The plan was as good as any and certainly seemed like it was worth a try.
Larry and I jumped in the Hammer, hit the front and rear Rubicon locker switches and lights, and Larry hit the gas. The trail rose for a steep forty yard climb then banked hard to the right. We did well for the first half, but slowly came to a stop about ¾ of the way up to the turn with all four wheels spinning. Larry hit the brakes, and immediately we started sliding backwards in the mud. Larry hadn’t spent as much time sliding backwards in the snow with my dad as he learned how to get up our driveway in the winter as I had, so he sort-of freaked. He let out a, “What do I do!,” then immediately pushed the accelerator to the floor again. The friction of four thirty-five inch mud terrains spinning stopped our slide. After about ten seconds, Larry asked me what to do again; I told him to hit the brakes, and we rested firmly in the nice, little divots Larry had created in the trail. Accidental, but effective! To avoid more slides, we pulled out the winch cable and lowered the Jeep down the hill with tension on the cable.

 

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Black Mountain: The Late Night on the Mountain Part 2

This led us, of course, to the inevitable turnaround of the convoy. With my last bit of available brainpower, I thought up a quick plan to try. I left the vehicle order up to the other guys, but we had a semblance of a plan. We began backing the Jeeps about thirty or forty feet down the main trail to create a little space. We then finished getting the Toyota out of the lower trail. At the widest point of the trail fork, Kenny forced the ARB bumper on the front end as far uphill against the dirt back as possible. We pulled out his winch cable, and I scrambled up the muddy hillside to attach the hook to a tree about 20-40 degrees off of straight ahead. Kenny then reversed down with the winch cable as a safety line to keep him from making a disastrous slide off the back of the trail. He then pulled forward with the winch pulling and sliding the front wheels slightly around in the mud. Again, move the cable and repeat. I decided to stay up on the hill to move the winch cables. About halfway through turning the long wheelbase 80 around, I reached over to a nearby tree to reattach the winch cable. It was dark and foggy where I was standing, about 30-40 feet above the vehicles and the rest of the crew. They shined a light up at me when I needed to move the cable to a new tree. Even with the light, I could only see about six inches over my head. Johnny pointed me over to an eighteen inch diameter tree behind me. As I leaned on the tree to hand the cable around, it moved. No, not like “Lord of the Rings.” I stepped back and yelled to the guys to shine the light above me. The tree was rotten and hollow and had broken off about a foot over my head. As we looked up and laughed at the tree I nearly used for a winch point, a flying squirrel jumped out of the tree and glided to a branch on the next tree over. The squirrel entertained us for a few minutes, and we were back to work. It took about thirty minutes to spin the Landcruiser around then back it up the hill as far as possible.
With Larry’s Jeep facing the wrong way, we used his winch and a snatch block to pull Brock’s Jeep around the same way. Though it took a little more time to winch the Jeep from another vehicle, it spun around more quickly than the Landcruiser. We backed the Jeep up the hill against Kenny’s front bumper and spun Larry’s Jeep around.
By 12:30am we had all the vehicles facing the right direction. We were all mostly covered in mud, but except for the one time Brock tried to fall under the Landcruiser, we were all safe and well. With the convoy reversed, Larry and I began to lead the way back to the helo pad where Kenny and Johnny would take the lead.
The ride home was fairly uneventful. Larry’s headlights were pretty terrible, leaving his new 150 watt monsters mounted by the mirrors to see the trail ahead. In the fog, we still had to rely on the Maglite I held out the window to illuminate the ground when the lights were pointed upward. We were a little nervous about going back the hill that gave Kenny trouble earlier. Despite Brock not having low range, we crawled down the hill one at a time safely. The muddy rock ledges we drove down earlier gave Brock some grief, but with a long strap attached to the bumper of Larry’s torquey, stroked-out 4.7 litre, Brock’s Jeep was over the obstacle in a jiffy. Once back to the helo pad, we all began to relax a little bit, and Kenny and Johnny retook the lead. I was glad; by this point in the “evening,” I was so exhausted from the last five days of late nights from vehicle prep, organizing, packing, and driving that I couldn’t sit up straight in the TJ seat. Johnny’s navigation skills guided us back down the multiple trails and switchbacks to the base of the mountain where we finally parked next to the Jeep boys’ cabin at 1:30am.
We all hopped out of our respective trucks and exchanged relieved congratulations. As part of the joking about the sticky points of our adventure, Larry and Brock continued their light ribbing of Kenny and his Landcruiser. They joked about how much easier it was for them to maneuver their lighter, shorter Jeeps in the rough patches. Kenny responded in a way that made the Jeep owners mouths’ drop and would make all other Landcruiser owners proud: he opened the liftgate hatch of his “long, heavy pig of a 4x4” and handed everyone a cold beer out of his DC fridge. He then passed out a can full of nice cigars for everyone. The gesture not only quieted the Landcruiser jabs, but reminded Brock that Larry had forgotten the promised bottle of bourbon that he was supposed to cram somewhere in the back of his little TJ. All in good fun, we joked around for a little while before Kenny, Johnny, and I headed back to Mount Aire. Then I would have to fill my wife in on the four hours since I was last able to contact her.
Our hotel was beautifully quiet. I washed the mud from my face and dropped into a much needed sleep-coma. I found out later that the cabins weren’t so quiet; Larry and the boys were up partying with their neighbors until 4 or 5am. I was happy for a quiet night.

 

[EOE_overland]

Sunday: Sunny Day on the Mountain and Back to Red Bird

Sunday, thankfully, was a much more relaxing day. We slept until 9am. I ran to a remarkably well stocked grocery store in town called “Don’s,” and got a few breakfast supplies. With my “hotel camping” equipment (hot plate, 12 qt enamel pot, french press), I first made coffee in my press, then made a super breakfast with smoked sausage, western-style hash browns, and egg beaters. With a good breakfast down the hatch, we met up with Kenny and Johnny to plan the day. Eden, Larry, and I had to leave Harlan at 3:30pm to head back to RBM for dinner and the night. So we decided a short, two or three hour ride starting about 11am would give us enough time to pack up and not be late to Red Bird. Brock and Adam had to head back to Dayton, so Johnny rode with Larry and Eden and I rode with Kenny. This was Eden’s first non-beach offroad experience. The 80 rides like a Cadillac compared to the TJ, and Kenny is an excellent (not like Rain Man) driver. It seemed like a good idea to me; Eden agreed.
Again Johnny navigated and lead us up to the Middle Fork Playground. Sunday morning the fog and rain moved out and gave us a beautiful afternoon. We decided to search out one of the “rock garden” obstacles listed on the map. We actually drove past the rock garden once, not noticing it in the leftover standing water. My wife noticed it first, we brushed her off, and then felt humbled when it was clear she was right. Mmmm, humble pie. The rocks appeared to have broken off a worn-out low cliff and dropped down on a flat spot just off the trail. With the rain, all we saw were rocks poking up out a foot of muddy water. Larry was in love, and set to scouting a big rock at the end of the obstacle. Johnny rode shotgun while Kenny guided Larry up onto the rock. I hopped through the mud to a good spot to get some video; Eden watched from the safety of Kenny’s FJ. Larry carefully drove up over the top of the big rock. His rear end slid to the side until a small tree kept him from sliding off the side and rolling. Kenny spotted him down over the three foot drop on the back side of the rock. Larry made his way threw the rock-strewn moat back to the main trail, where we chatted with a few truggy drivers who had paused to have another beer before entering the rock garden themselves. We joked around for a few minutes, then headed back down the mountain to the cabin and the end of our adventure on Black Mountain.
Once at the bottom, we started saying our good-bye’s to Kenny and Johnny and thanking them for their help. Kenny inquired about our lunch plans, then pulled a grill, bratwurst, buns, chips, and Little Debbies out of his Cruiser. We ate like kings! I brought out my little bottle of bourbon that I had smuggled in my 62 for just such an occasion. We all had a nip, and enjoyed a good lunch and great company. We had only met about 24 hours earlier, but we left good friends. One thing all four wheel drive enthusiasts know is that the difficulties of the trail can quickly form strong friendships. This trip was no exception. We packed up and headed off north to RBM.

 

[EOE_overland]

Back to Red Bird

The trip back to RBM was a clear, breathtaking drive compared to the foggy mess when we left the day before. Our elk was lying down again in the same field, so we paused for a few more snapshots and made it to RBM about five o’clock. George led us to our guest rooms in the old hospital building. We unloaded, got a hot shower, and headed over to the cafeteria where George told us to get dinner. We didn’t know it yet, but dinner was meant to be more of an experience than just getting a meal.
We were to have dinner with the arriving “work-campers” who were coming for the week to do home renovation, repairs to the Mission, and other community outreach in the area. As we got in line behind a group from a church on the northern side of Baltimore, the information that George had given us about the work camps began to slowly come back to me. George mentioned that the chow hall could feed 100 at a time and that the 5-10 red cabins scattered up the valley had bunk beds for twenty each. I had remembered that he said the work camps begin in March and go through November. As the three of us sat at our cafeteria table with our sloppy joes and sweet tea, too exhausted to have much interaction with the group from Westminster, the rest of the work-campers started to trickle in. First, a school bus full of Boy Scouts from Kansas arrived and began to unload. Then two charter buses full of teenagers from Oklahoma followed. Suddenly through the sleepy haze, it occurred to me why the cafeteria needed to hold a hundred at a time. And, before our trip when I spoke with a friend at home that was interested in the work camps, but said that they were completely booked until August. Red Bird Mission had full, 100-person work camps from March to November for as many weeks as they offered. And people from around the country were coming to help. The organization of the camps was amazingly overwhelming. It was incredible to see so many excited people who had traveled so far to help. We quickly finished our dinner, hastened not only due to our collective exhaustion but also my untreated social claustrophobia, and we went for a nice walk around campus. With my camera in hand, we spent an hour stretching our legs, photographing the mission, and giving me the time to knock the dust off a few old memories of the older buildings and playground that I could still remember from my visit twenty-five years ago. Still amazed at the large group of work-campers, we decided to head back to the solitude of the old hospital and into our guest rooms. Larry and I looked through a few video clips of him in the rock garden earlier in the day; we all reminisced about some of the highs and lows of the trip so far, and we all crashed for the night. It had been an excellent day, and we went to bed with the satisfaction that we hadn’t screwed anything up for at least one day of the trip.

 

[EOE_overland]

RBM Monday Tour and the Trip Home

We awoke early from another night of good, quiet sleep. The bed we had was even more comfortable than the bed at Mount Aire. We decided to skip breakfast at the cafeteria and to eat together in the room. I boiled water on my hotplate and made coffee and oatmeal for everyone. We ate, joked around a bit, and packed up our stuff. At 8am, George picked us up for our official weekday tour while people were actually working at the Mission.
We took a tour of the school; unfortunately, we were unable to take pictures in the school to protect the privacy of the students. The school is wonderful. The teachers we met are great, and all of them loved the students and cared about their well-being. We were given a brochure that said the cost per student at RBM school is about $4000 for the year. The average student’s family pays (what they can afford) about $97 per year for their student. The school makes up the difference with donations and money the Mission makes through the Community store and other programs. The students and their families may be quite poor, but they are given a top-notch education. This contributes to a better life for the student, their family, and community.
We went back and got another quick tour of the Community store and Craft store. Our tour finished and we said good-bye to George, our kind host. We checked over our vehicles, hugged Larry, and were off.
The rain started again and would continue off and on for the entire eleven hour return trip. We headed southeast on SR 66 again, this time all the way to Pineville, Kentucky. In at least two spots, DOT crews were clearing rock slides on the road that were caused by the rain that dampened most of our weekend. From Pineville, we headed south to Middlesboro where we turned west through the Cumberland Gap into Tennessee. We followed Route 58, the Daniel Boone Wilderness Trail, for about three hours to Bristol, Virginia. We caught I-81 North for the long trip along the backbone of Virginia. I should mention that the last thirty minutes into Bristol were some of the prettiest of the entire trip. The windy road went past plenty of cows, sheep, goats, and picturesque old farmhouses that distracted me from the road periodically. Once on 81, we drove the 250 miles to Front Royal, and then the home-stretch of I-66 East and the Washington Beltway. By nine o’clock, we were tired and stiff, but we were home.

 

[EOE_overland]

Reflections:

So our first trip is in the can. How did it go? Any good choices, regrets, or colossal acts of stupidity?
Yes, all of the above. Planning logistics for the trip was a bit stressful, but all seemed to work out pretty well. Planning was made much easier due to the help of people like Kenny, Johnny (GLTHFJ60) , Bill, Brock, and Adam. Their willingness to help made the large response of donations a positive experience, not the overwhelming stressor that it should have been. Sticking with hotel rooms on this trip ensured that we got a reasonable amount of rest which made the experience much more relaxing for Eden and I on our inaugural trip.
Down side: don’t go ‘wheeling just before dark in an unknown area after it was been raining for nearly a week. Sounds like a good one Mister Obvious?
Most notable that I took home: I’m continually amazed at how the world works. We see so much crap on the news about how terrible “humanity” is and how cheap life can be. But just when you least expect it, people come out of nowhere to help others in a completely unselfish way. Kenny, Johnny, and Bill had only heard about our trip on the internet, and offered their entire weekend to assist us with moving supplies. There are people who are willing, without a second thought, to donate money and relief to two crazy dudes to deliver to others in need. And then there are the hundreds of work-campers who give their time and energy to travel, often at great expense, to help and to show needy people that someone cares about them. I’ve seen this phenomenon personally in Kentucky, in Mississippi after Hurricane Katrina, in Haiti, and so many other times. I continue to thank God for these people who make the world a tolerable place to live. So keep up the good work!

 

[kennyfj40]

Matt,
Everything was spot on and X2 on the not starting out after 6:00pm in the rain on strange trails. Looking forward to another trip to deliver supplies with your group. Keep up this great work as it only adds credability to this obsession of off-roading. BTW the "can" was my round humidor.

 

[GLTHFJ60]

Excellent write up!! It was one hell of a trip and I would love get more involved. Thanks!!

 

[EOE_overland]

Matt,
BTW the "can" was my round humidor.

Sorry- brain was malfunctioning at that point in the evening! You da man!

 

[AKcruiserfreak]

Great writeup! Really cool use of your Cruiser.

TK

 

[Hltoppr]

Very cool! Great way to start EOE Overland!

-H-