As one of the worst winter storms of the season raged in New Hampshire, members of the East Coast Four-Wheel Drive Association, Region D, were carefully navigating through the heavy snow looking for landmarks to help guide the way so they wouldn't get lost. In the darkness, their headlights revealed little, merely reflecting the blowing snow, and their ice-covered windshield wipers did nothing but smear water back and forth across the glass. Obstacles in their path weren't visible until they were mere feet away, so they had to keep their speed to a crawl and their feet ready to hit the brakes. It was tough four-wheeling, and they were still on the interstate. They hadn't even gotten to the rendezvous point for the winter trail run.
As luck would have it, everyone safely navigated the brutal winter storm and arrived at the trail run staging point in Nashua, New Hampshire, bringing stories of highway carnage and abnormally long travel times. We heard stories of guardrails being used as winch points, but we do not know if that's true. One thing's for sure, for folks to venture out in savage weather such as this, it was obvious they wanted to go trail riding. And the new snow added an exciting dimension to our ride. Bright and early the next morning, our group of 15 trucks headed west from Nashua on snow-packed roads toward the trailhead, which sits high in the mountains of southern New Hampshire.
The only hint that we had arrived at the trailhead was a break in the thick woods to our right, which vaguely resembled a place where a road might sit during the summer. The snow was untracked and deep. With tires aired down, our group pointed its rigs toward the trail and disappeared into the woods, which at this point was comprised of mostly pine trees covered in thick snow. Our group consisted of trail veterans with modified machines, and almost everyone had a winch on his rig.
The trail got with the program immediately, with a constant, unrelenting incline. This was battle enough, but when you add the foot and a half of snow that was covering the trail, a delightful challenge emerged. We switched lead vehicles often because the constant pushing of snow created quite a workout for the cooling systems. The engines revved to keep the trucks moving. The trucks with less aggressive tires stayed to the rear of the pack to take advantage of the packed down trail. But even so, they occasionally got stuck because of ruts and the off-camber angles.
It was a good workout for the machines as well as the drivers when the obstacles came in rapid waves, keeping us jumping with winch cables and tow straps. Out in the wild, this land seems to have changed little since Martin Pring sailed up the Piscataqua River in 1603. The only hint that people had ever been here are the stumps left over from logging. Just when we thought the trail couldn't get any more challenging, it did, with deep ravines, fallen trees, and steep hillclimbs. By late afternoon, we were miles from any plowed road, and our group was strung out along the trail, some involved in their own battles to push forward.