Marin family takes part in Jeep off-road adventure

By Ethan Wolin, The Sacramento Bee

A caravan of retrofitted Jeeps crawled over the boulders, their low-pressure tires conforming to the terrain and kicking up dust. Spotters beside the path advised the drivers on which way to turn, and when to go forward. A yellow helicopter whizzed overhead, ferrying a net sack of supplies to the camp awaiting the motorists that night.

“Two-foot those, girlie!” shouted Mark Heller, 55, an electrician from Marin County, urging his 17-year-old daughter, Alex, to use a foot on each pedal.

She was behind the wheel for the route’s first obstacle, a test for those taking up the gauntlet, while he had no trouble keeping up on foot.

His wife, Mary Bishop, registered them as a Christmas gift for father-daughter bonding, Heller said, and his daughter had driven four-wheelers for years. He pointed to a guide helping Alex angle the car with instructions and hand motions.

“He is basically remote-control-car-ing straight through all this,” Heller said.

The group of over 200 people embarked recently on a weekend trip on El Dorado County’s Rubicon Trail, the mecca of off-roading and the namesake of the kind of Jeep many participants were driving. Few paths, if any, rival the Rubicon Trail’s legendary difficulty — or its historical significance as a Sierra Nevada passage for pioneers of the sport and the state alike.

For clients who pay $895 or more, on top of investing in their sturdy cars, the annual excursion run by Jeep Jamboree USA offers a particular pairing of journey and destination: Move at a slow, stop-and-start pace across a stunning mountain landscape to reach a base where meals are cooked for you and music is played live on a baby grand piano — one of the chopper’s imports.

“Patience is really the biggest thing,” said Wes Murchie, 20, a guide who grew up in El Dorado County and whose parents were also part of the jamboree crew.

“A lot of people come out here and they’re like, ‘I don’t want to wait for nothing. I just want to get through it.’ And then other people, like myself — I’m just here for the experience,” Murchie said, standing beside the trail. “If I’m out here on the rocks, I’m having a good time.”

A storied history

What’s now the Rubicon Trail emerged as a wagon and stagecoach route between Lake Tahoe and Georgetown around the time of the California Gold Rush. The tradition of recreational off-road driving on the trail — and, to some degree, in the United States at large — originated with a 1953 expedition led by the adventurer Mark Smith, who died in 2014.

That yearly trip, the Jeepers Jamboree, has continued; its 73rd installment is less than two weeks away. In 1982, Smith founded Jeep Jamboree USA, a company affiliated with the Jeep manufacturer that now organizes off-roading excursions around the world. He also bought land at Rubicon Springs, the site of the jamboree’s two-night stay on the trail.

Pearse Umlauf, the president and CEO of Jeep Jamboree USA, said Smith, his onetime father-in-law, was “your modern-day Indiana Jones.” Today, Umlauf sees Smith’s legacy as expanding access to the largely pristine wilderness of places such as the Sierra, for those who can drive even if they cannot hike.

“It allows a lot of people to go places they never would go before,” Umlauf said in a phone interview, noting that many children and families join his company’s trips. “Mark wanted people to see what this amazing country has to offer people.”

Starting in the 1950s, Umlauf said, Smith worked directly with Willys-Overland Motors, then the maker of Jeeps. Other automakers, such as Toyota and Land Rover, also produce cars capable of off-roading, and enthusiasts take pride in other four-wheelers and their modifications. But Jeep introduced the Rubicon trim of its Wrangler model in 2003, cementing its connection to the landmark route.

“This trail is an institutional icon for the brand,” Umlauf said.

A jamboree for off-roading fans and families is also a jamboree for marketing, with online influencers helicoptered in and a Jeep branding boss on the scene.

Setting expectations, setting out

By 6 a.m., Jeeps were lined up in the parking lot of the Loon Lake Chalet, a spot near the trailhead about an hour’s drive north from Highway 50. On a plateau overlooking the lake, drivers arranged their cars in columns split by their level of experience, so veterans would go ahead of first-timers. Breakfast burritos and brown-bagged lunches, prepared overnight in a Georgetown pizzeria’s kitchen, were handed out.

Justin Klotz, an aerospace engineer from Los Angeles who stayed the prior night in Auburn, was preparing for his sixth consecutive Jeep Jamboree. He let air out of his car’s tires to decrease their pressure from about 30 psi to just 9.

Jason Campbell, a digital game designer from Costa Mesa, Orange County, who was taking an old school friend and his son out for the weekend, said he had made his Jeep’s roof lighter since participating last year. Plans for the layover day?

“Enjoying being away from the world, essentially,” he said, chuckling.

The group gathered for a briefing at 7:30 a.m. Ty Devereaux, Jeep Jamboree USA’s chief operating officer, addressed the novices, reminding them that the roughly eight-mile trek to Rubicon Springs could take eight hours or longer, moving at the typical average pace of 1 mph.

“You do have your work cut out for you today,” he said. “Rubicon is the trail that we really all get tested by out here. It’s a long day, it’s a hot day, it’s a dusty day, and I want you all to be prepared for it mentally.”

Shawn Gulling, the company’s vice president for operations and events, seconded the warnings.

“We don’t want to scare ya, but we kind of want to scare ya,” he said, drawing laughter.

There was much to look forward to on the other end: Staff members would help the clients find places for their tents, Devereaux said. There would be steak for dinner, followed by a meeting of the “Jeep Badge of Honor Social Club,” with participation dash plaques, pie and ice cream.

Ten vehicles were already on the trail by then, enjoying VIP treatment for $2,995, Umlauf said. In all, between clients and guides, the full jamboree included about a hundred cars — fewer than in years past, Umlauf said, to make the experience less crowded.

A packaged adventure

The first cars arrived at the Rubicon Springs camp by 3:30 p.m. that Friday, the last ones not until 9 p.m., Umlauf said. One vehicle was sent back due to mechanical problems too great for the company’s mechanics to fix. During the Sunday drive to the trail’s end, one car broke and delayed all the ones behind it for two hours.

Mark Heller, the electrician who was participating with his daughter in their sixth Jeep Jamboree, said the company provided “the cheapest insurance you can have for a good time,” given its guarantee to extricate any clients who get stuck.

“This one is a bit more corporate,” Heller later added in a phone call after the trip, comparing it to other Rubicon Trail excursions. “This one is not dry, but very family-oriented. It won’t be a bunch of drunken yahoos at the end of it.”

Think community, amenities and relative safety — not the go-it-alone individualism often associated with adventuring. The jamboree still attracts some colorful characters who see in off-roading a chance to conquer the wild expanse.

Shon Northam — a 56-year-old criminal defense lawyer from Redding who was outfitted top to bottom in red, white and blue — volunteered as a guide, taking up the rear of the slow-moving parade. He likened the mental focus required on the Rubicon Trail to taking the bar exam.

“I am a kind of go fast kind of guy,” he admitted as he neared the first obstacle, pausing his reggae music to speak and grinding to a halt behind a stopped car.

Staying happy amid the traffic, he said, requires “slowing down and having the gratitude and the awareness that, look where I am?”

The procession picked back up, and Northam roared over a boulder.

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