A few days ago I learned a lesson about down Eastern NC mudholes. They are different than good old, Blue Ridge Mountain mudholes. The western mudholes have certain defining characteristics. They are usually wider than they are deep. The sides slope downward at a gentle angle. The bottom has some kind of firm material - like rocks or dirt.
Since Terri and I moved to New Bern, I have been exploring the ponds, creeks, estuaries, forests, and swamps in the surrounding several counties. When I find a boat launch, campground, or trailhead I add it to the GPS app on my iPhone. One of the places I have explored most is the Croatan National Forest. The further you drive into the forest, the more remote it gets. I got to the center of the Forest, at Catfish Lake, which was desolate. There were no improvements or infrastructure, no trails, no campgrounds or boat docks. The only signs of civilization were the roads, which got progressively worse. In the center of the Forest, the vehicle paths became narrow, one-lane tracks full of mudholes. The forest areas surrounding the roads were actually swamps, with the trees growing in standing water.
I got to a place with a stomped-out area where I could launch a kayak into the Lake. There was one other vehicle there, an old, beat up, and completely rusted-out Ford Bronco. It was blocking the track. To one side were trees and on the other side was a big mudhole. I squeezed through between the truck and the mudhole with my mirror ticking the Bronco's mirror. After looking around, I got back in my Jeep to leave. The truck owner got out of his junk heap, and he was standing between his vehicle and the mudhole. He looked like he had trouble relating to society. He later told me he was an ex-Marine, had PTSD, had no income, and was bumming around the USA living at free Forest Service campgrounds. Rather than me waiting for him to move out of the way, I drove around him through the mudhole.
Big mistake. This mudhole was part of the swamp with no defined bottom. The sides were steep and slick. As soon as I started into the hole, my Jeep immediately slid sideways and downwards into the center of the hole. The only thing that kept the Jeep from sinking further is the foot rails under the doors hit something, and water came up to my door handles. I put the Jeep into 4-wheel, low, drive; but as soon as I gave it gas, the spinning wheels dug down deeper into the swamp. By now the Jeep was tipped over almost onto its side. The photograph accompanying this article is not of my Jeep, but it's similar to the way mine looked. I was too concerned about getting out to take pictures.
I climbed out of the uphill door and the weird guy asked if I wanted him to pull me out? I said yes. Then he volunteered that his tow strap was broken and he wondered if I had one? For several months, I had made room in the back of my Jeep to haul other items, and I had put the duffel bag with my strap in my garage. By extreme good luck, I had replaced the duffel bag that morning. I said yes, and climbed over two sets of seats to get my strap from the back. Then he admitted that his truck had a bad starter, and the only way to make it was to push it off using hand and foot power. We got it going twice, but both times, before we could hook up the tow ropes, it conked off. It never started again.
Then by more extreme good luck, a big, new Dodge Ram pickup truck came by with a nice young fellow driving. He only had the Ram for about a week, and wanted to test it out by giving me a tow. I said great! From that point on the adventure was over and I drove home. The lesson I learned is not to drive into an eastern mudhole without testing the sides first. I need to gingerly put in the first wheel. Then, if the Jeep does not slide down into the middle of the hole, I may be able to get through.
