Captain Cook 07-19-03

Your typical easy going camping trip to Captain Cook Park

At 5:00 Pm on Saturday, I went to meet Frosty (Ryan Frost) and his little lady at the Nikiski To Go Mart. As I was waiting a little green jeep went blazing by. Minutes later, the Jeep returned, turns out it was Blackjack. He and his wife had come down, and driven clear out to the Park, apparently hoping to run into us. As Dan and I were B.S.ing, Frosty arrived, so we fueled up, said goodbye to Blackjack and Family, and headed North to CCP.

About 15 miles later, we unloaded our trailer, and packed all our gear into the Freak. Ryan aired down, and we headed for the beach.

The first section of the beach is covered with an assortment of large and small rocks. We picked our way through them, making good time until I discovered this neat pile of rocks and beach wood. My line choice was to navigate between the bluff and the Larger of the rocks, then place one tire on this large tree that was sticking out toward the ocean. I planned to leave my right front tire on the tree, until it dropped off the end. As it turned out, my ability to place my tires on flat ground is much better than it is when one tire is 3-4 feet in the air. I promptly drove off the far side of the tree, and was high centered on my front axle. Winch time.

I broke out the remote, and spooled out enough line from my rear winch to reach the nearest boulder, while Frosty anchored the chain over the top, and around the back of it. Full stall on the 8274 did nothing, as we had selected an anchor at too great of an angle. All we managed to do was dig the drivers side tire about 2 feet into the sand. Frosty suggested we take a different line with the winch, and hooked the chain around the roots of the tree I was stuck on. This is exactly what we needed, and I was able to steer the passenger tire back onto the log, and drop off the side. Thanks Ryan. :thumb3:

The low tide was at 3:39 pm, so as we progressed up the beach, we were being progressively limited on out choices for camping places. We took the first trail off the beach, hoping to find a flat spot to camp, with a view of the ocean. We stopped and briefly chatted with some people on the beach, and then headed up the bluff, skirting a very deep and steep ravine. About half way through our accent, we met a nice family on 4wheelers, and motorcycles. They were quite courteous, and made plenty of room for us to get buy. At the top of the hill, we stopped and talked with them about any nearby camping places. Thankfully, they were able to informed us where the line between borough, and private land was.

Between us and the gas line was a narrow trail, winding its way through the trees, along the ridgeline of this ravine. Must have been 200 feet down, with little other than devils club to slow your tumbling descent, had you slipped of the trail. I lead the way, carefully picking my lines between the trees, and swamp holes. As I looked in my rearview mirror, I noticed Ryan was stopped about 50 yards back. On the FRS he said "Ah, I broke a TRE, hang on a sec". Molly (my wife) and I grabbed out work gloves, the camera, and walked back to Ryan's jeep to check out the carnage.

Ryan had taken out his drivers side tie rod end on a stump that had been cut off, about 12" above ground. It hit his tire just right, causing the 35" MTR to slip off, hammering the rod end right into the stump. Luck for Frosty, he had his Ready Welder handy. After removing the TRE, and Tie Rod, Ryan welded the TRE back onto the tubing, and then welded two long 7/16" bolts (or something like that) across the tie rod, and tie rod end, for a very effective gusset.

As Ryan finished up his welding, the family on 4 wheelers came back up the trail. Their little boy, on a 50 CC motorcycle, was first in line to try and navigate around Ryan's jeep. The only possible line choice was right through the muddiest hole around. He gave it hell, and made it about 3/4 of the way across before getting drug down by the suction of the quagmire. I reached over and gave him a little tug, and on his way he went. The rest of the family was able to make it by without incident.

Once we made it to the Gas Line, we had to decide whether or not to head north or south to find a camping spot. We all tried to remember the Run Report that some other Alaska Extreme members made, hoping we could find the same place they camped. We decided to head south, back toward the end of the Highway, where we had started from. Along the way, we ran into a local Nikiski resident, who helped us out with some additional pointers as to where we might find a good camping spot.

On our way again, it was smooth sailing, so we watched the surrounding woods for places we could get a view of the ocean. The trail was mostly hard pack dirt, with an occasional dried up mud hole. We crossed one small creek, whose name I cannot remember, and a few swamps. One swamp in particular gave us quite a challenge. I had been stuck in this place before, and remembered being hung up on all the logs and trees that people have buried in the mud holes for additional traction. I chose my line along the right hand side of what appeared to be the smallest mud hole. Dropping my front tires in, and crawling through was my plan of attack, but as I got farther into the goo, I could feel my axles beginning to drag, so I gave the ol' caddy a kick in the ass, and powered the rest of the way through, using only enough wheel speed to get through the immediate danger. I stopped and grabbed the camera, as I knew Ryan was going to have great difficulty completing this portion of the trail.

Ryan got out of his jeep, and made a quick survey of the situation. We both agreed that following my basic line would be the path of least resistance, and the least likely to dig up anymore of the stumps buried in the muck. He put on his hip boots, and got back in the jeep. Giving her hell, Ryan blasted into the mud, only to come to an abrupt halt only a few feet from where he started from. I must say that Ryan's jeep was seriously handicapped by not having his normal trail tires installed. The Super Swampers he normally runs, would have definitely given him much greater odds of dominating the mud hole.

After we discussed the best method for extraction, it was decided that a forward pull would be the quickest way to get Ryan's XJ through the swamp. I backed into place, and Frosty waded his winch line over and hooked it to the Freak. A full stall pull from his winch made Zero progress toward dry ground, so we decided that I would attempt a recovery from the rear. I unhooked, and masterfully navigated myself into possibly the worst possible position, netting me all 4 tires helplessly spinning in mud. I was high centered on the axles. Once again Ryan came to the rescue with his hip boots, and carried my front winch line to the nearest large tree. He placed my tree strap around the base of the birch, and hooked up the cable. I put the truck in gear, and we slowly winched the Freak free from the swamps smelly grasp.

A few short minutes later, I had the XJ free as well. This time, we were going to play it safe, so Ryan hooked my tow strap to his front bumper and we slowly crawled through the bog, with out so much as one tire spin. Apparently we picked a much better line that time. :p The rest of the trail was mostly smooth sailing, except for me forgetting I was in 2wd once. Oops. I was jumping out to hook up the winch and Ryan's saying "Hey, how come you don't put it in 4wd?" lol.

When got back to the trail head, we pointed our rigs toward the beach once again. We were determined to find a cool place to camp, but this time, the tide was at its highest! The rocks that could have easily been avoided before, were now mandatory. I dropped into the rock garden and made slow progress, all the while looking in my mirrors, expecting to see the XJ's tie rod laying on the ground. After gaining some confidence in Ryan's trail repair, I started to look for some more difficult lines to follow. We were nearly done wheeling for the night, as I could see an excellent place to camp just ahead, when I drove over a rock that didn't want me to pass. I promptly hung the tire about 2 feet in the air, and was well stuck on my drivers side control arm. The sand below my other three tires was in no way going to provide me with enough traction to back off the rocks, so I once again pulled out the rear winch line, and Ryan once again took it to the nearest boulder. Then the truck died, it wasn't getting fuel. I tried to winch off the rock with out the truck running, but was entirely unsuccessful. I took the gas cap off, and Frosty shot some starting fluid in the air cleaner housing. After a few minutes, we had it running again, and was able to finish winching my way out. A little bit of jockeying, and we were free.

We set up camp right on the beach, and Ryan built a nice little fire. Thanks for bringing the fire wood guys, It was nice to not need to comb the beach for dry wood. We roasted a few hot dogs, and drank a few cold ones, bs'ing the night away. A perfect ending to a beautiful day of wheeling. The sun set behind the mountains, and we hit the sack.

The next morning, we packed up camp, and headed back through the rock pile. This time, we both took the path of least resistance. :D Once back to the trailer, Molly and I loaded up, Frosty and his wife aired up, and we headed home. Ryan followed me to the shop so that he could make a more street worthy repair to his tie rod. We cut a piece of 1" sch 40 pipe and sleeved over the TRE, and tie rod. Ryan fired up the ESAB 250 MIG, and burned the welds in masterfully, and off they went.