Offroad Superhero Training

I ain’t no dummy when it comes to cars. I can usually identify a coil, fuel filter, solenoid, air filter and petrol tank – and have more than just a vague idea what function each performs. In short, I can fearlessly feign that I know what I’m doing with the best of them.

But I’ve never driven offroad on sand, mud, rocks or boulders (in control anyway) or in streams or rivers  – and definitely never in a 2.5 tonne vehicle with another tonne of people and equipment stuffed into and onto it. Ever mindful of my role as – dah-dah-dum – Protector of the Family (echo, echo, echo…) – I figured it might be sensible to get some practice in before I failed dismally by arrogantly getting us stuck in the middle of the Makgadikgadi Pans or the Namib Desert. I’ve pulled people from the car after a Land Cruiser literally flew off a gravel road at 70kmh and plunged more than 20m down a boulder-riddled hill – all because of a minor swerve to avoid an oncoming car. Maybe knowing the limits and capabilities of the car and how to drive it on gravel to dunes before doing the same or similar would also be a good idea. To my wife, this is evidence that I have matured a bit. To me, it is evidence that I’ve grown into a bit of a risk-averse wuss. Either way, I’m glad I went on an offroad course even if it did emphatically prove that I am, after all, a bit of a wuss.

The offroad/4×4 training course is offered by Trevor at AllTerrain 4×4 in Melkbosstrand about 30 minutes north of Cape Town. It was to be a one-day course of bashing my new (sob) car over rocks, sand, mud and gravel to learn the difference between safe and unsafe, learn what the Land Cruiser can and can’t do and, as it turned out, get stuck – lots.

Trevor, a very experienced offroader and African adventurer type, was at once surprisingly sympathetic to my lack of experience. I proudly pointed out to him, in an attempt to establish some credentials, that I’m really good with snow and ice but apparently (disdainful, mocking laugh) the “give it more gas!!” approach would get me irretrievably stuck in every African offroad situation. He barraged me for over an hour with stories and explicit photographic evidence of stupidity, destruction and death – presumably to ensure that I was going to be appropriately attentive during the subsequent five hours of practical driving. He had my full attention. Use the various diff locks for this, low gearing for this, low 2nd gear for that, don’t shift then, shift now, low 1st for that, clutch here, no clutch there, the centre diff lock for that… Got it?

Trevor also offered much helpful and practical advice on how to approach obstacles, whether rivers, streams, hills, rocks or dunes: “Walk it first”. “Even rivers?”, I ask. At rivers you wait at the edge for 5 minutes watching for movements (crocodiles, hippopotamus) and if you see nothing then walk it. But rivers flow so there’s going to be lots of movement, isn’t there. “Look for eyes and bubbles then.” That advice would of course be obvious to anyone who would vaguely consider doing it… but not to me.

After much repetition, encouragement and positive reinforcement I managed to grasp that tire pressure is important. One has to change tire pressure for every kind of surface: 100% for tar, 75% for gravel, 50% or less for soft sand, 60-75% for rocks. Tire gauge, check. Compressor, check. And just to make sure I had entirely grasped the point, the first exercise involved instructing the hapless Canadian to drive into the sand offroad course with 100% tire pressure so I’d immediately get stuck. Yes, I was listening. We dropped the tire pressures and floated effortlessly about the rest of the course, driving around some hectic soft sand embankments – way cool – like Luke Skywalker’s hovering sand buggy.

Trevor had me drive into a situation where two of four wheels were off the ground entirely to demonstrate how to use the rear and front diff locks. Cool – we pop right out. But the front diff lock indicator has some issues. Take it to be repaired.

Then off to the rocky, hilly course to climb up 30 degree hills, stall and try again. Good fun. At one point, as the loaded car lurched awkwardly to the right with fuel, water and tent on the roof, I grabbed whatever I could to prepare myself for the impact of the rollover. “We’ve got to be at 45 degrees!”, I calmly explained to Trevor. “Don’t worry, this is only 25 degrees. The car will only roll at 27.5 degrees.” Oh good then.

After four hours of metamorphizing the neophyte into an offroad superhero, we spent an hour jacking the car up, talking about recovery straps, recovery points, belts, filters, tires, spares, spare parts, repairs, duct tape, coat hangers, filter changes, identifying engine bits and generally figuring out how to use all the ropes, jacks, shackles and other gubbins I had purchased on good advice without much of a clue how to use them. I probably could have figured it all out myself eventually but the course has saved me from the indignity of slow, deliberate eye rolls and foot-stomping impatience as I tried to establish which end of the hi-lift jack was up. Invaluable.

I almost felt bad paying just R1000 ($140) for 6 hours of one-on-one offroad training, cappuccinos included – a really fun and educational, if slightly harrowing at times, experience.

So there we have it. I now know how to do more than hop the curb at the Constantia Village shopping centre in our 4×4 – and we’ll undoubtedly be a lot safer for it. Bring me my cape, mortal.

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