We were soon confronted by the steep crossing of a rocky arroyo and my lead Comanche completed a major bumper dragging operation to make it safely across. As the others worked their way through, I lurched up the narrowing, steep, rocky road and was confronted by the washout described in the opening paragraph. A quick hike up the trail confirmed my growing fear. We definitely would not be traversing this section in the dark! The route got considerably more difficult as it ascended; it had washouts, big rocks, and ledges in profusion. We were facing hours of work and it had already been a long, hot day. There was simply no choice but to camp right there in the narrow, rocky road. The challenge looming ahead of us was definitely on our minds as we bedded down for the night and tried to find sleep in our less-than-ideal campsite.
The next morning dawned and the first order of business was to again scout the road to the top. Things always look better in the first light of day, right? My second trip confirmed my impressions from the night before. With a well-equipped rockcrawler, this stretch would be fun but we might well be overmatched with our small caravan of relatively mild vehicles. Years of water being channeled down this canyon had badly eroded the road, leaving behind a series of obstacles that would make this rock aficionado grin under other circumstances. In the present situation, the road left us with a strong yearning for stouter equipment. The biggest concern was the possibility of a broken component that would leave us disabled a full day from the nearest parts source. Would the vehicles and drivers be up to the challenge? The only way to know for sure was to give it a whirl, so in the morning's early shadows we started a slow journey upward.
Leaving the other three Jeeps at the bottom, all four drivers teamed up to move rock, fill holes, and generally support the push to the top with the lead vehicle. With close attention to the spotter, I ever so carefully drove the Comanche over washouts, up and around off-camber shelves, and scaled the long series of ledges. With the sun much higher in the sky and a large amount of perspiration liberated into the dry desert air, the difficulty finally relented near the mesa top. Leaving the Comanche in place, we headed back down the hill to bring up the remainder of the trucks.
Things were going smoothly until the under-geared Scrambler lurched against a rock once, twice, and POP! The noise we all dreaded rang out sharply among the rocks. A quick glance at the front axle joints confirmed that they were not the source of the telltale noise. "Please not a rear axle!" A more thorough examination revealed the front driveshaft hanging loosely, the shaft having separated from the slip-yoke at the weld - not a good thing without a handy welder in the caravan.
As a general precaution against Murphy's Law and long distance excursions, I had thrown a tube of welding rod into the Comanche before I left home. A couple of jumper cables, a pair of Optima batteries, and three pairs of sunglasses had us putting into practice welding techniques that previously had been only theories gleaned from stories around the campfire. The MacGyver-like technique worked and while the weld was not beautiful, it certainly appeared strong enough to serve its purpose.