A year ago, not far from my most recent Mojave adventure, I was turning to Lynn and professing my fear.
This January, exactly a year from that first trip (well, within a day), we pointed the Wastelander on the other side of the 15 toward Red Rock. We had something different in mind. I wasn’t nearly as arrogant thinking this is easy. We weren’t trying to prove anything, really. Just exploring, but with a bit of cautious confidence.
Vegas lay ahead. Literally. Of course, Vegas always seems to lay ahead (which is something I like). We could see it from the ridge a bit over half way through this off-road foray, skyline in the haze, waiting. That was the weekend destination. But first, there was the dirt.
There’s something thrilling about driving the trails you’ve flown past for years (nay decades) traversing the 15. You glance at them at 75 miles an hour and think, what is it like out there? Who goes out there? Now we know, at least some of what it is like and we are the people who go out there.
The Mojave in January is wide and wild. Joshua trees scattered like punctuation marks, green from the recent rains. Long ridgelines. Big sky. And some unsettled ground at times. Closer to the city, some trash that reminds you humans don’t always leave places better than they found them. Still, it is raw and beautiful. The kind of beauty that takes my breath away.
If you remember from our first adventure, we were quite green and a bit scared. This time was different. A lot calmer, more confident, and definitely more prepared. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have a moment. We did.
Not far from a remote edge of Red Rock, there was a dip (could say ditch), with a bit of pitch and roll challenge. It is a good thing we knew how to monitor it (and disconnect sway bars, and air down, and put it into 4L, and handle things a bit better). The roll hit 20°. Inside the Jeep, that feels dramatic, but we were waiting for it so we could stop and experience it.
But this time, instead of adrenaline and blind commitment, we watched the numbers. We stopped. I got out and took a picture. This is something a Jeep can easily handle, but that doesn’t mean it is without difficulties. Lynn couldn’t open her door to get out, and I literally had to climb out. The kind of lean that gets your attention.
From outside, it didn’t look nearly as extreme as it felt inside. You can see that the Jeep was just fine.
That was the lesson.
Roll angles can feel a bit scary, but it doesn’t mean the end is near. It is a part of off-roading. A little bit of fear is good, but so is knowing you are going to be OK. That doesn’t mean dismiss the dangers. It just means understand them. Context changes everything. It wasn’t a reason to panic. It was just a fun part of the trail.
Earlier, we had chosen a hill that looked harder than it was. Slow and deliberate. No drama, well no real drama. The excitement mounts when you can’t see the ground when the Jeep is pointed skyward. Having gotten out and looked what was ahead, made that a lot easier (I do want a front camera eventually for that reason). Last year we learned to be very careful going solo on only easy trails. We will save tougher terrain and advanced lessons for runs with Carlos, Gene, and friends. There is still plenty to learn.
In the meantime, there’s a lot of dirt out there. Roads we’ve been driving past for years (nay, decades). We will keep exploring these with the proper caution and respect. There’s something real about going off the pavement and becoming part of the landscape instead of just seeing it out the window as you fly by.
Vegas can wait (at least for a while).
Year two is about exploring more. And there’s a lot of Mojave left to see.
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