AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

As long as you are in the slow lane, it's cool with me.

Hopefully, you aren't

 

AZ weather forecasting is a guessing game at best. Lived here my entire life, seen 80* daytime highs w/ 60* overnight lows in Feb/March. Then there are years like last year when we got an average of 6” of snow across the whole state in 10hrs. The later is far less common. Either way, we are gonna do it just like last year.

 

Redhead Down #2: WTF, There's a Bat in My Tent!
September 16, 2019.

I didn't wait in Rawlins long before Monte @Blackdawg and his dad Steve @woodnick showed up at the gas station across the street. Their trucks fueled up, we said our warm hellos and set about our first task of the trip - buying firewood.

It's here - before I even really get into the story - that I have a confession to make. I do this only because it may be my last opportunity - this trip changing the way we approached camp fires all together.

I don't like buying bundles of firewood.
To me, it just seems like burning money.
It feels that way because - yep - that's literally what's happening.​

And, for any really good camp fire, you need at least two or three bundles of wood, which means you're out a good $15 per night of camping. Or - and this is how we often ended up - you try to go sparingly on the wood, making two bundles stretch over three nights - and then everyone is freezing from 8:00pm to midnight when it's finally time to go to bed.

Regardless, we hadn't yet gotten to the point in the trip where we were past the need for bundles of wood - so five more bundles were purchased, to supplement the wood I'd brought from my workshop, and the bundle that Monte already had in his truck. And then, we headed south towards dirt!

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We soon found ourselves on that dirt as we thundered down Sage Creek Road - which was really more of a gravel highway - until we blew by a sign next to a cattle grate where we caught only one word: closed. Turns out that there was apparently active logging on this road, and so it was closed to public use during working hours. Luckily for us, it was 4:57pm, and the road was "open" from 5:00pm to 6:00am, so we waited three minutes and set off once again. It was soon apparent that the closure was warranted.

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We continued for less than an hour before arriving at the spot that Monte had thought we might camp - a little lake (reservoir) off of the main road. Unfortunately, the last half mile or so was gated, and while there was clearly a well-traveled bypass, it was labeled "Private Property ... Foot Traffic Only." Still keen to see where we could have camped, we set out on foot and discovered some old cabins and a spot that would have been sweet to camp at.

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A bit bummed, but knowing we'd have plenty more awesome spots on our journey, we headed back to what had become a makeshift camp area at the gate where we'd left the trucks and set up for the evening.

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We'd all had long drives over the course of the day, and a few sprinkles of rain helped us to keep dinner and the camp fire relatively short - all of us retiring to our tents by around 10:00pm. All of us except the dogs that is - Bix and Satch - they were keen to stay up all night, protecting camp and investigating the surrounding area; oblivious to the fatigue that would cause in the morning.

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September 17, 2019.

It was a pleasant night, the cloud cover that brought a few sprinkles the previous evening keeping the temperatures a bit more temperate than the clear sky nights we'd encounter from this point forward, but they'd cleared by the morning - a beautiful blue sky spread above camp.

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With Steve in camp, Monte was tasked with preparing breakfast - eggs and bacon - and I took the opportunity to head back up to the reservoir to check it out in the morning light. It was a nice walk, nature waking up around me, and while the lake was still in the shadow of the mountain to it's southeast, there were plenty of other things vying for my attention.

A small stream flowing out of the reservoir, fingerling fish darting here and there. Bright green algae in the water, waving in the current. And huckleberries - tons of huckleberries. I picked a few to bring back to camp, having learned on our trip to Canada that Monte had never seen these wild delicacies before.

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As I arrived back in camp, breakfast was ready and - having assumed I'd eat cereal that morning - I was thrilled that an extra serving of bacon and eggs had been prepared for yours truly! We ate up and chatted for a while - we were in no rush this morning, since we'd planned to meet Mike @Digiratus around noon, not too far away.

It was 10:00am or so when we finally started getting our things together and as I lifted the ladder to fold my Mt. Shasta @Cascadia Tent onto the bed rack, I was shocked at what I saw between my mattress and the anti-condensation mat. It was a bat!

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That bat had been in my tent - likely all night! I hoped that it'd been crushed quickly when I got into the tent, and that it hadn't suffered as I'd slept soundly through the night. It was a tiny bat - probably only a few inches long - and nearly weightless.

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Regardless, there was definitely a bit of excitement around camp as the discovery was made, and it delayed our departure by a few minutes as the situation was remedied. But before long, we were on the road - finally airing down, something we'd skipped the previous evening since the road to this point had been reasonably smooth.

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With that, and a little after 11:00am, we entered Medicine Bow - Routt National Forest and started our climb up Bridger Peak. This was a summit that Steve had planned to activate using Morse code on his HF Ham radio rig, and I for one was curious what exactly that would entail.

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The climb to the top wasn't a long one - it probably only took us 45 minutes or so to get there from camp, and that included stopping for photos. But what it lacked in time, it made up for in views. We'd climbed to over 11,007 ft here along the Continental Divide, and as one of the highest peaks around, we had an amazing view of our surroundings.

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We also had amazing views of the storms all around us. Not just any storms either - we could see even from a distance that these were lightning storms. All of us wondering how long we'd want to be up here in the highest place around, Steve set about activating the mountain - or at least attempting to.

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Within minutes, the storm cells we'd seen in the distance were upon us - pushed quickly by the 40-50mph westerly winds. And it wasn't rain that these cells carried, it was hail! We belined it for our trucks - the peak still not activated - to wait it out as the ground became white around us.

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Unfortunately, it was still hailing 15 minutes later, and with the lightning strikes getting closer, we decided it prudent to retreat to lower elevations. Plus, we'd been in contact with Mike, and knew that he was waiting for us a little way down the hill. So, with much more on our agenda for the day we got ourselves turned around and made our way through what had been a summer environment just a day before, but now looked like the first day of winter.

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The Continental Divide Trail highlighted by hail as it crisscrossed the road here on Bridger Peak.​

Soon, as we raced down, the hail stopped and we ran into Mike who was waiting in a staging area for us to show up. Another round of handshakes and hugs - it was good to all be back together - and we lined up the trucks to capture the moment. It's not often that the red trucks and green trucks are in equal number - most of the time the more appealing color is in the majority.

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Greetings shared, we discussed our next steps. Still in Wyoming, we'd work our way south towards Colorado - essentially getting ourselves to the border for camp this evening. In the meantime, Steve had a second peak he wanted to activate, so we decided that could be our next major destination.

As we drove along, the vegetation was green and the air was wet and crisp - only the level of the reservoirs cluing us into the fact that it was the end of summer at these high elevations. And with the recent rain/hail keeping the dust down, we all had a pleasant drive from one vantage point to the next.

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Oh, and I'm far from admitting that a red truck is better than green, but boy - the Redhead sure did look stunning in the light

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We made our way over hills and through clear cuts with little fanfare. We all got a good laugh when we came across a clear cut being grazed by cattle - as though destroying the forest itself wasn't insult enough.

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But then, we'd also find ourselves in tall tree tunnels - the Lodgepole Pines towering along either side of the road, our cameras clicking to capture the moment forever.

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Here and there, we'd pop out of the trees to a view of the lands around us. Often in these areas we'd see groups of hunters camped, archery season in full swing in this southern-most area of Wyoming.

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With frequent stops, and another longer stop for lunch, it took us several hours before we finally set off on our final approach to Blackhall Mountain. In the end, it was another long climb - the summit, at 10,974 ft - just missing the mark we'd achieved earlier in the day.

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However, unlike Bridger Peak where the weather was dismal and the previously-installed lookout was reduced to a rubble foundation, the lookout at Blackhall Mountain was still in reasonably good repair. In fact, it was clear that while it may no longer be used as a lookout, it is defnitely still used as a communication center - solar panels and plenty of antenna attached to it's southern face.

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Immediately, Steve deployed his kit once again and began to activate the peak (essentially, contact as many people as he could from it). This time he was much more successful, and over the next 30 minutes or so he was able to exchange callsign and other pertinent information with half a dozen folks or so - some of them hundreds or even thousands of miles away. It was pretty cool to watch!

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As Steve played around with his gear, the rest of us - naturally - explored the summit. Though a few feet shorter than the last, the views here were outstanding, and the rocky outcroppings, striped granite, and distant clouds made for some dramatic fore- and backgrounds - something we tried to make as good a use of as possible.

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Eventually, we all tore ourselves away from our hobbies - it was 6:00pm already and getting late, the lot of us still with no idea where we were going to find camp. A few final shots at the top, and we started down - the trees here an indicator that it might be a bit breezy to set up camp on the summit.

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Down off the top, we soon found ourselves in what @mrs.turbodb has termed "the landscape of a failed lookout." All around us, a fire had charred the forest - in this case, within the last 12 months. The ground was bare, as were the trees, and while it made for good views, it did not make for good camping.

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Eventually we found ourselves on the edge of the burn - live trees now interspersed with the dead - and Mike reported back over the radio that he'd found a prospective camp site. This was great because the rest of us had come up blank with the roads we'd explored, and if we didn't find camp soon, we'd not only be setting up with our headlamps, we'd be arriving in the dark.

Just as he did, I spotted this young bull moose spying on us off the side of the road. His nonchalance as I got out of the truck to snap his photo may indicate that he may not be on the winning side of natural selection in the next year.

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Two more minutes up the road, I pulled into camp just as everyone else was getting settled. Luckily for me, the whole site was reasonably flat and I soon had the tent deployed and had changed into long pants and several sweatshirts - the clear night sky giving a dramatic show along the horizon - and already resulting in temps lower than we'd experienced the previous evening.

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This being Mike's first night in camp, within minutes we were all on him - like stink on a skunk - for some of his famous salsa. He did us one better and whipped up a batch of is guacamole for us to devour in a few minutes, our voracious appetites for the avocado dip never satisfied by the quantity presented.

Then, we all set about preparing our dinners and hanging out around the camp fire. I'm not sure what time we called it an evening, but I can assure you that fun was had all around, even if the camp fire was of the small variety, and even as the temperatures dropped lower and lower. It was Steve's last evening with us, and we wanted to make the most of it - so we did.

But eventually the time came for us all to call it a night - so we headed our separate directions, knowing not what the next day would bring, but being glad for the warm covers to snuggle down into. It was going to be a cold, cold night.

 

It's not the tires...

That's driving skillz you are noticing.

 

Umm hmmm.

 

Redhead Down #3: We Cross into Colorado
September 18, 2019.

The clear Wyoming skies meant that it was a very cold night. Everything covered in frost - including our pillows and sleeping bags where we'd been breathing on them as we cozied down for warmth - even Monte @Blackdawg came out of his tent in the morning, glad for the warmer temps that the sun beamed down on camp and started to melt the frost away.

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As we all warmed up in the sun, we set about our usual morning routines - intermixed of course with chatter about what was on tap for the day, and what amazing things we hoped to see along the way. Breakfast for me was a chilly bowl of Cheerios, for Mike @Digiratus a couple cups of coffee, and for Steve @woodnick and Monte - more bacon and eggs. It was also Steve's last morning in camp, so he graciously handed over the extra eggs and lunch meat he'd brought along - we'd have more use for it in the next couple weeks than he would!

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It took an hour or so, but everything eventually dried out and we all started to warm up - enough that I was back in the shorts and t-shirt that I'd been wearing the previous day. By 10:00am or so, we found ourselves pulling out of camp - still four trucks, but not for long!

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Somehow ending up in the lead, I enjoyed five minutes of dust-free travel as we sped along FS-80, right at the Wyoming-Colorado border. This was where Steve was set to peel off from the rest of the group to head home - leaving Mike, Monte, and me to continue west - weaving our way along the state line for much of the day before finally committing to a southern route in the state we'd planned the trip around.

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Hugs and handshakes all around - except Monte, who was the recipient of a minute long embrace - Steve bid us safe travels and headed east as we shuffled our truck order and took off on our planned route. Our first order of business for the morning was to search for a special "camp bench" that Brett @Squeaky Penguin had built at what we could only assume was a special camp site along one of the roads we planned to drive. Unsure exactly where it was, the first half hour or so was along a nicely graded gravel road, before we turned off onto a trail signed as "MOST DIFFICULT." At least, I think that's what it said - because all I can remember is "TURN HERE FOR FUN."

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Of course, as is often the case, this most difficult trail was perhaps slightly over classified. Sure, there were a few tight turns, but nothing here really taxed our trucks or skills in any way that could be considered noteworthy. All that meant, really, was that - as we would our way through the woods, up and over ridge lines, and along re-routes that had been created before us - we could enjoy ourselves out here in the middle of nowhere as we searched for a bench. A bench that ultimately alluded us.

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To this point, we'd been lucky in that all of the road clearing had been taken care of by earlier travelers along these routes over the course of the summer. But as we headed down a section of FS-499, Monte came over the radio to let us know that there was an obstacle in the road, and my chainsaw services would be required.

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That was just fine with me - so you can imagine my reaction when I approached to see Monte digging around in the back of his truck for his axe! I was having none of that - this was my time to have a bit of fun, and I calmly informed him that he was crazy when we had a chainsaw right here. A bit of back-and-forth banter about how it might only take a few minutes longer with the axe, and I reminded him that we could get some nice campfire rounds with the chainsaw should we choose to go that route.

Checkmate. I won, and we got to work as a team - me cutting up the tree and Monte throwing the rounds into the beds of the trucks. It was a symphony of motion which lasted all of about 10 minutes before the tree was cleared and we were ready to get on our way again.

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Underway again, we continued on our generally westerly course, looping up toward Hog Park Reservoir where we found a beautiful little spot to have lunch. We - or at least I - had no idea at the time that we'd been through Colorado in order to get here, but it didn't matter because we were once again in Wyoming as we assembled our ham and turkey sandwiches and kicked back at the lake's edge, the long grass billowing in the breeze.

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A well-placed picnic table.​

Our bellies full, we were back on the road an hour or so after stopping and we once again made good time, the Forest Service roads in this part of the country in splendid shape - our aired down tires absorbing the few bumps here and there, our rides plush as the miles ticked away. Our lunch spot the northern apex of our route for the day, it was less than 30 minutes before we passed a Medicine Bow - Routt National Forest sign, welcoming us to Colorado. Though we'd been in-state earlier, this was the first - and last - sign we'd see about the border, the rest of our trip squarely to the south.

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It was at about this point that several statements were made over the radio that the area through which we were travelling was going to be a brilliant display of color...in about two weeks, just as our trip was ending. See, we were travelling through a forest comprised of equal parts evergreen and Aspen - the vast majority of the Aspen leaves still green for a few more days before turning various shades of yellow and orange.

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Knowing what it could have been - having experienced these glorious displays of color last year near the Grand Canyon - Monte remarked that there was a "Taunting amount of color from the Aspen." And I noted that perhaps by the end of our two-week excursion, we might be smack in the middle of a ton of color. Not that it kept us from taking photos this time!

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Too soon, we were through this distracting area - luckily it wouldn't be our last - and making our way up and around what we hoped would be another cool peak to add to our list of places we'd driven to the top of: Hahn's Peak. Visible at the top, an old lookout - no longer staffed - called to us to visit, and we made our way around the base of the mountain as we looked for a way up.

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Unfortunately, several cards were stacked against our ascent to the top. First, the road we thought most promising was closed off with no trespassing signs. This seemed a little strange, given that we were both in a National Forest, and that we were in Colorado my understanding is that roads to public lands must be kept open. Second, while it wasn't late yet, we had a long way to go to our rendezvous with Brett later that evening. And most importantly, Mike - having left from a different location than the rest of us - was almost out of fuel! As such, we decided that a trip to the top wasn't in the cards for the day, and we plowed ahead towards Steamboat Springs.

Except - not really. While Steamboat was essentially due south, our route had us heading east a good 25 miles or so, because well, dirt roads and things to see. Did I mention that Mike was nearly out of fuel? That Redhead is a thirsty girl.

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As we made our way through the hills, an old cabin caught our attention. Not enough for Monte and Mike to deviate from our track, but being the last in line, I took the opportunity to go check it out. The Hard Scrabble Mining Claim, it was in reasonably good shape, and looked to be a place that someone still visited - at least every now and then - to either do a bit of digging, or at least enjoy the beautiful surroundings.

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I didn't dally at the cabin per-se, but it still took me a few minutes to catch back up with the other guys - their use of the skinny pedal undaunted by something so insignificant as a red truck's fuel gauge. That said, we did the responsible thing and skirted the edge of Farewell Mountain, opting not to take the short side trip to the top - even though Brett would later inform us that we "missed the best view in the area!" :annoyed_gaah:

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Eventually we found ourselves overlooking the adjacent valley and we had a decision to make: should we camp at a spot we'd found here on the east side of Farewell Mountain, or should we continue down into the valley - hopefully to find something that would be a bit warmer than what we were sure to experience on a clear night at 10,200 ft? Smarter men may have decided that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but there were no such men among us. So, after some hemming and hawing, and exploring of the site, we decided to continue on.

Well, we decided to wait for the light to be just right on Little Agnes Mountain and Big Agnes Mountain across the valley so we could take some photos, and then we continued on. Mostly. I mean, there may have been some photo shenanigans as well.

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Our cameras satisfied for about three minutes, and Mike trying his hardest not to say what he'd deemed the "C" word (as in, "Guys, we need to get to camp.") for this trip, we started down into the valley. And I'm not kidding - it really was on the order of three minutes or so - based on my photo time stamps - before we stopped again because... well, the light was just right on the Agnes Mountains again. And I mean, it was better, so it's a good thing we stopped.

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It was also in this area that I made a discovery - one that most will probably find completely uninteresting and/or irrelevant, but that I know @mrs.turbodb will appreciate - and that's good enough for me to get a bit loquacious in the story. Along the side of the road, in the shade of what I recall being some sort of fir trees, I noticed what looked to be small huckleberry plants. And when I say small, I mean the entire mature plant was perhaps the size of a golf ball. This time of year, the leaves were all changing from green to red, and yet they were all loaded up with the tiniest huckleberries you've ever seen.

Elf-sized huckleberries. For the kittens of baby elves. Here are 9 of the berries. Go ahead, count them.

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Well, no bear was going to fill up on those puppies, but I gave them a try and they tasted just as good as any huckleberry I've ever eaten, so I picked another dozen or so before heading off down the hill - once again, the slow poke trailing behind the rest of the crowd.

We reached the valley an hour or so later - the time now getting on evening, the sun due to set in 30 minutes or so. And we had a problem. We'd figured that since we'd seen almost no one between Hahn's Peak and Farewell Mountain, the valley would be similarly unpopulated and we'd have no trouble finding a spot to camp. This couldn't have been further from the truth! Every site in the valley was full - big 'ole campers, UTVs, and even Subarus tucked into every little nook and cranny - their license plates indicating that most of them were from out of state. Hunters, most likely.

Hrm. Would this be the first night we got to camp after dark? We pushed on, starting up the far side of the valley, hoping for the best.

Scrounging, we stumbled upon an open area above one of the switchbacks at the base of Little Agnes Mountain that looked like it would probably work just fine. It was a little exposed, and closer to a busy road than I think we would have liked, but there was no one there, and being above the road helped with the privacy a little bit, so just as the sun was setting, we positioned our trucks to settle in for the night.

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Then, as if via a sixth sense, Monte looked over at Mike and I and said, "You hear that? Sounds like a 1st gen V6. I bet it's Brett." And sure enough, about 3 minutes later, bombing up down the road from the side of the valley we were in the process of climbing came Brett's truck. He'd not expected to meet up with us until the next day, but he'd gotten off work early and raced headlong in our direction. "How'd you find us?" we asked as he pulled into camp - since we'd been there only a couple minutes and not given him any idea where we'd be camping.

"I used APRS." he informed us. Not with any maps mind you, just with distances between his position and ours. You know, like APRS marco-pollo.

Well, this was a great surprise to all of us, and a great opportunity for Mike, Brett and I to finally meet. As the sun continued to set in the east, Brett immediately endeared himself to me by suggesting that we definitely needed more firewood for whatever camp fire we were going to have. As in an entire tree more he proclaimed, pulling his chainsaw out of the back of his truck. Now, this was my kind of camping - no more literal burning of money, we could just make use of one of the thousands of dead trees around us, the result of pine beetles that have run rampant in the western United States. No more tiny fires trying to conserve wood - Brett's preference to cut enough that not only would we have a multi-hour bonfire, but we'd also leave a nice pile for the next people to find this spot.

Perfect.

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So, we got to cutting and splitting and lighting of the fire - and then had several great hours of conversation around the largest, warmest fire I've ever experienced on one of these trips. Mike broke out another batch of guacamole, and though Monte and I warned Brett that he better get some while there still was some, I think he probably only got one chip full this first night. We stayed up until midnight, everyone with plenty to talk about - questions about rigs, discussion of the plans for the next day, and of course plenty of banter and laughing to go around. As if there was any question, we all knew that this was going to be a great trip through Colorado - even better than what we'd seen so far as we made our way south.

And boy, were we right! The excitement we'd experience the next few days was going to be epic.

 

Dan, can you elaborate on the clamp that is different from the others? I ordered the same boot kit and I have the normal CV axle tool you have.

 

I've been waiting to read so I can binge and I'm all caught up already?! WTF.

 

That's a great question Tyler, I should have included it in the original post. I'll update that, with this content here:

For the larger clamp, I recommend using these Moog clamps (or this kit if the Moog are out of stock) so that it too is installed with the same boot clamp tool as the other three clamps. Here's why - below are the two styles of clamps. Three of the four clamps (the two smaller clamps and one of the larger clamps) are styled like the clamp on the right side of this photo. These can be tightened just fine with the Lisle 30800 CV Boot Clamp Pliers. However, one of the clamps (shown on the left) is of a different variety - instead of crimping a single ear, a second special tool is needed which bites into the small protrusion and attempts to cinch the clamp further together...over the barbs shown on the far left. With over a centimeter to tighten however, it's just too much pressure on the clamp and the steel catch ends up ripping. This then results in the tool never being able to pull the clamp together enough to catch the last barb.

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I'm slow. Part 4 either this afternoon or tomorrow

 

I ended up purchasing the Knipex Model # 10 99 I220 from Lowe's with free shipping to store. I haven't used them yet, but they feel real nice and I've read a TON of great stuff about Knipex tools from folks who use them professionally.

https://www.lowes.com/pd/KNIPEX-8-7...4KQKs-G-rpTMF5Lv2whoChK4QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds

The ones pictured in the photo are actually the Model # 10 98 I220. They are similar enough that (I guess) most sellers use the picture for the 98 to list both the 98 and 99 variant. The difference is the 98 can only clamp from head on, while the 99 can clamp either head on or from the side.

The 98 can be found for around $15 whereas the 99 is $20. I figured the extra $5 was worth it in case I ever need to get one in a tight space since this style clamp can be used on hoses and is not limited to CV axles.

 

I've heard a lot of good stuff about Knipex as well, I'm sure they will be a great tool. Even so, they only fit the clamp style on the right; they do not work with the clamp style on the left (as far as I know). In that respect, they are an equivalent tool to the Lisle 30800 CV Boot Clamp Pliers.

 

Yes. I was just suggesting an alternative to the Lisle. You are correct that it does not work with the clamp on the left.

 

@turbodb ...

LITEWAY Traction Boards with Jack Lift Base- 2 Pcs Traction Mat for Sand Mud Snow Track Tire Ladder 4X4-4 Tons Load Recovery Traction Tracks.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07G6ZHP85





You need expo points...

 

Thanks, I assume it isn't a special kind of clamp and that I can just use a universal one from Napa. I'm on a bit of a time constraint so I don't have time to order one.

 

Yes. The universal one from Napa is what I plan to purchase.

Edit: "Boxed" is the style that you want.

 

Great, thanks everyone.

Now, I have this type of tool:



What is the difference from this type of tool, also advertised to work for CV axles?

 

My guess would be the style of boot clamp that it works with. For the boxed style, the tool that you have will work just fine.

 

No, I don't. hahahahaha I'm quite sure I'll write a post this winter entitled "Winter Weight Loss for AdventureTaco" so more gear is the last thing I need! Those don't get great reviews, either...

I wasn't able to get a "box" style clamp at O'Reilly's - all the ones they had were too small a diameter. So I ordered the set of clamps (I got Moog, or this kit should be fine too) at that point and ran an entire trip with the zip ties. Worked fine, though a big old YMMV on that one!

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Here's how you use that other tool. None of these types of CV boot clamps in the Toyta kit though...

 

Redhead Down #4: Follow Me on the Trail, Not on the 'Gram
September 19, 2019.

Night was chilly but not really cold, validating our move to a lower elevation camp site the evening before, and the sun quickly warmed camp in the morning as it rose over the Agnes Mountains.

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Happy to be a band of four again, and excited to get underway, we all set about our normal morning tasks, Mike @Digiratus now in what he'd call "good company," since Brett @Squeaky Penguin was also a coffee drinker. c-coffee: We also took the opportunity to add five gallons of fuel to our trucks - or at least, Monte @Blackdawg, Mike and I did - so we'd have enough to make it to our next fuel stop in Steamboat Springs. Then, in what was perhaps the earliest morning departure of the trip, we were off! It was just before 9:30am.

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With Brett in the caravan it was like having our own living Colorado almanac and guide, and we took full advantage of it. While Monte's planned track had us making a roundabout loop on the way to Steamboat Springs, Brett instead suggested that we skip that altogether and instead spend our time on a little offshoot that he knew about. That it led down to a stream he wanted to cast a line into was just a bonus, I'm sure.

It was of course fine with us - we had nowhere to be but out here in the woods - and we made our way through the beginnings of fall as we headed out FS-471 toward Big Creek.

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Most of the road was reasonably tame, but as we descended from the ridge down into the valley, we got a little taste of some fun terrain. We'd get plenty more of this as the days progressed, but for now it was one of our first stretches of rockier road, and I think we all appreciated it as we stepped our way down toward the river.

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At the bottom, the road once again flattened out - a few whoops doing little to slow our progress, everyone either running reasonably good suspension or liking speed so much that they didn't really care if they got into their bump stops.

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A mile or two of higher speed travel and we'd arrived at Brett's secret fishing hole. As he pulled out a rod and line, I set about extracting the Blue 242 Loctite from my kit so I could secure a troublesome bolt on my mid-skid plate that had been working itself loose the last couple of days. Ultimately, this wouldn't be a successful trail fix - I think because the threads on the frame were a little too loose for the Loctite to grab - but I figured it was worth a shot.

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My repair taken care of for the moment, Brett too was sort-of successful. While he didn't land anything large, he did pull in a smaller trout - and I'd call that a success!

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Note: Not the actual trout, but a twin in length.​

Our fishing detour complete, we headed back the way we'd come, the road that had been fun on the way down, just as fun on the way back up. We also got some nice Aspen color as we made our way back, each day seemingly turning the leaves a little more golden as summer's grasp on the landscape slowly slipped away.

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It was noon - or thereabouts - when we reached the end of the dirt road and were ready to pound pavement to Steamboat Springs. We'd planned to take the Colorado Backcountry Discovery Route (COBDR) at this point in order to keep ourselves on dirt, but our local guide insisted that we'd just be wasting our time - time that would be better spent at a taco joint in town. That was hard to argue with - even for three expert arguers - and so we proceeded to air up for the 30 mile jaunt into town.

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Steamboat Springs it turns out is a nice little tourist town with a population of 15,000 residents or so. At an elevation of 6,700', it's clear that there's lots of year-round recreation, and there's a bustle in the a historic downtown that makes the place feel fun. Not to mention - driving through town it's impossible to miss the olympic ski jump on the hillside overlooking the community - something that's got to be a lot of fun during the winter and is part of an 80-year Olympian tradition. All with the free-flowing Yampa River running right through the heart of the town makes for a seriously cool place to live. It's probably going to be hard to pull Brett out of this place.

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Our destination was a hip joint named Taco Cabo, and while the food was tasty, it was clear to me that the hipness of the town had influenced the prices just a tad - my carne asada burrito setting me back right around $14! Next time - and for anyone who finds themselves here - I'd recommend the carne asada torta, a Mexican sandwich that looked amazing (and at the same price, like a bit better deal) when I saw it on the table next to us.

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Unfortunately, while we were enjoying our lunch, Brett wasn't feeling well and bid us farewell for a few hours so he could head home and catch a short nap. That actually worked out quite well for the rest of us - we needed to fill up on fuel, and do some restocking at the grocery store. After all, we needed to stay flush with avocados - and the guacamole we'd become addicted to at night. Oh, and we had to make one more pit stop - Advance Auto Parts for some transmission fluid - after Monte discovered that he was over a quart low when his transmission started acting up!

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Everything taken care of and Brett feeling well enough to re-join us, we headed south out of town, the highway weaving its way through the foothills, our four 1st gen Tacomas, their usual bad-ass selves, eyes turning as we drove by.

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With the 30 miles or so we'd done before lunch, and the 30 or so we had to do here, airing up had been a good call. But, as always, we were happy when we hit dirt once again on FS-100 - the joy of slower travel and new sights always winning over the opportunity for better mpgs. Having spent much of the afternoon in town, it was already 4:00pm in the afternoon, and so the discussion as we aired down was about how far we wanted to make it for the evening. Of course, our original destination - whatever that was - had long been cast aside, and ultimately we decided that we'd just start looking for something that seemed reasonable as the afternoon turned to evening. And with that, we were on our way!

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One of the great things about this group is that the trip really is the destination. We never care all that much if we're on time or on track; it's no problem if at the end of the day we've traveled twice - ok, that's never happened - or half the distance we planned just a few hours earlier. And so it was this afternoon. The miles ticked away, but we stopped frequently to get out and enjoy the surroundings. After all, to speed through them would be to miss exactly what we'd come to enjoy - the time together in a beautiful place.

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Even Mike seemed to be in a great mood as we snapped photo after photo.

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I've never seen Mike so happy.​

In and out of the trucks, we ultimately covered some 27 miles in just under two hours. All on reasonably graded gravel roads, we eventually saw Eagles Nest and Mt. Powell in the distance before we decided at about 6:00pm that we'd found a reasonable camp site and were going to call it a day, Brett - ever looking for the poser shot as evidenced by the #overlanding stickers on his #GFC :: - flexing his way the last few feet into camp.

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To camp well before sunset, each positioned our trucks and got ready for the evening. For the second night in a row - and therefore, in what is now a new tradition - we gathered a trees worth of free firewood and I split it into a nice pile while Monte set about constructing and lighting the fire. Brett, thrilled that we'd chosen a camp site near a creek, headed that way to see if he could catch dinner - not for himself, but for Monte. And Mike whipped up another bowl of his champion guacamole. Then, not really knowing what to do with ourselves in camp so early, we plonked down around the campfire and continued the conversations of the day.

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Eventually the sun found itself low on the horizon with some cloud buddies and called to Monte and to get on over and take it's photo. With no right to refuse, we obliged - a nice hillside overlooking Brett as he fished, also providing us with a nice break in the trees to get just the right shot.

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As Brett returned from fishing, Monte pressed him for dinner. While that unfortunately didn't work out, a couple slices of bacon from Mike, a burger and cheese on the grill, a toasted bun, and a big dollop of guacamole made for what I'd consider a reasonable substitute. He called it, as I recall, "the best burger ever." The rest of our dinners were similarly tasty, and our tree-size fire helped to keep us all toasty into the night.

It'd been a shorter day than most as far as miles traveled, and we hadn't tackled any gnarly trails, but it'd been a great day nonetheless. And, none of us had any idea at this point, but we would make up for both the distance and difficulty in the days to come.

 

Is @Squeaky Penguin the one who has a Sparco seat in his Tacoma? Curious to know the reasoning, cost and comfort level of such an upgrade.