Water crossings

Not too fast, not too slow: This vehicle is pushing a proper bow wave through this stream crossing.

There are two unalterable facts you need to know about water:

1. It is incompressible—thus, if sucked through an air cleaner into an engine whose pistons are trying mightily to compress the contents of their cylinders by a factor of nine to one or more, it will cause Bad Things to happen.
2. It is a fair conductor of electricity—thus, if unintentionally employed to bridge the gap between the positive and negative elements of expensive electrical components—say, the circuit board of the vehicle’s CPU—it will cause Bad Things to happen. 

If these two facts make you nervous about fording rivers with your four-wheel-drive vehicle, good. Probably few things other than cats are the theme of more YouTube videos than “Water crossing gone bad.”

The easiest advice to give regarding crossing water deeper than a puddle with a four-wheel-drive vehicle is, “Don’t.” But that would ignore reality. Some water crossings are simply unavoidable, others are optional challenges to be evaluated and either accepted or avoided as part of the fun of backcountry travel. But unless you’re determined to become an impromptu video sensation, it’s smart to know a few things before you take the plunge.

Every vehicle has a critical depth above which submersion in standing water will cause those Bad Things to happen. This could either be because water will enter the air intake, or because it will reach some critical electrical component. In markets where four-wheel-drive vehicles are used more seriously for work and travel than they generally are in the U.S., it’s common for manufacturers to list the allowable fording depth of each model. For example, the world-market Ford Ranger equipped with a 3.2-liter turbodiesel and factory snorkel boasts an outstanding 800mm (31-inch) fording depth, higher than the vast majority of production 4x4s, most of which list fording depths around 20 to 24 inches. Of course any such figure is an ideal measurement, subject to intense variables in the real world, but if you can find—or determine—the figure for your own vehicle, you’ll have a place to start.

Fortunately modern four-wheel-drive trucks are in general better able to handle water crossings than those of decades ago. Back then, point-style ignition distributors were susceptible to shorting, and air cleaner intakes were open to the engine compartment and vulnerable to splashed water. Current electronic and distributorless ignitions are far more resistant to shorting, and most air intakes are now concealed inside the front fender, where little short of actual submersion is likely to result in inhaled water. On the other hand, the all-important and still-vulnerable CPU or main computer is better located in some vehicles than in others. Make it your business to find out where yours is, and locate your air intake as well. The air intake can be significantly raised by installing one of the ever-popular snorkel kits, but beware: If you plan to actually use a snorkel for deep-water crossings, the entire assembly must be diligently and completely sealed at every joint, or water will find a way in and cause . . . well, you know. And your fording depth will still be subject to the limitations of electrical components. (An aside here: Most “snorkels” fitted by vehicle manufacturers—such as, for example, those standard on Toyota Land Cruisers in markets other than the U.S.—are really just raised intakes, designed to let the engine breathe air above most road dust, and are not adequately sealed for submersion.)

Other vulnerable—though not immediately fatality inducing—components include the front and rear differentials, which can become submerged during even a fairly shallow crossing. The differential has a breather designed to allow expanding air to escape the housing as the diff heats up during normal driving, then be slowly sucked back in as it cools while parked. What happens during a crossing is the warm diff cools suddenly when submerged, the contracting air inside tries to pull more air through the breather—and gets water instead. The result is an icky sludge less than ideal for lubricating rotating parts. Fortunately many companies sell extended breather kits for most differentials, and they are easy to fabricate at home—cheap insurance even if you never need them. Still, water can also get sucked in through axle seals, so it’s smart to check your diff fluid as soon as convenient after any crossing that submerges the axles. All you have to do is loosen the drain plug enough to let a bit of the contents drip. If it's nice dark oil, you're good. If it's water or grey goo, you need to replace the fluid ASAP.

Let’s divide water crossings into two general types: with and without current. Since the latter is almost always the least fraught we’ll look at that first. 

The simplest, and most frequently encountered water obstacle is a pool submerging a section of road or trail after heavy rains. Such water is usually muddy and thus opaque, which makes it difficult to adhere to the first rule of water crossings:

1. If you can’t determine the depth of the water, don’t drive through it. (Rule number 1a is: Don’t drive around it and widen the trail, either.)

Sometimes it’s perfectly obvious that the puddle is a puddle and nothing more. At other times it’s not so obvious, such as when the pool was left after a flow across the trail, the current from which might have left ruts or a dangerously deep pocket. Turbid water also makes it difficult to determine the consistency of the bottom, which can make a big difference in how easy it is to negotiate: Compacted gravel is way better than bottomless mud. So you want to know the depth and substrate conditions before you attempt to cross, and there are two excellent ways to do this:

1. Talk a buddy into driving it first, or wait until someone else comes along and attempts it. Mostly kidding on this one.
2. Wade it.

These are really the only sure ways. But there are side benefits to stopping and assessing. Your vehicle will begin to cool down, so your diffs will have a chance to suck back in air rather than water. Also, if you have a viscous radiator fan coupling, as most vehicles do these days, it will cool down as well and unlock if it was engaged. That way if your fan is submerged it will stop rotating rather than flex forward with water pressure, possibly impacting the radiator or breaking a blade. 

If you commonly travel where water crossings are a factor, bring along a pair of sport sandals (not flip-flops, which can get sucked off) to don while reconnoitering. You want to ensure that the entry and exit points are negotiable as well as the pool itself, and if you decide there is a chance a recovery situation could arise, you’ll want to identify an anchor point for your winch if you have one.

Once you’ve decided to drive through the pool, banish all thoughts from your head of spectacular photo opportunities with flying curtains of water—that’s an excellent way to cause problems by jetting water up where its not wanted. You’ll want four-wheel-drive, low range, with all traction devices enabled. The proper speed is essentially a fast walk, to build up a small bow wave if the water is over bumper height. The bow wave leaves a trough behind it, which lowers the water level in the engine compartment. Pushing a bow wave can actually allow you to ford pools deep enough to drown the vehicle if you were to stop, so maintain a steady speed, in a low enough gear to keep the engine in the ideal part of its torque curve (higher rpm also helps keep water from entering the exhaust pipe if it is submerged). If your vehicle has manual transmission, do not shift while crossing—water between the clutch disc and flywheel will strand you in short order.  Once through you’ll want to gently ride the brake pedal for fifty yards or so to dry out the brakes; if the water is deep enough that you can see the bow wave over your hood, you should stop and raise the hood to check for water in the air cleaner and for anything else amiss.

Running water is an entirely different universe. Few people realize the magnitude of the forces that can be exerted by even a mild current. Want a comparison? Water flowing at just six mph exerts the same force per unit area as air blowing at EF5 tornado wind speeds. 

Notice how much lower the water level is behind the bow wave. Courtesy Nick Taylor

The same protocol applies for crossing a stream or river as with standing water. If you cannot determine the depth and conditions, you should not attempt to cross it. When you are wading to reconnoiter, if the depth and current is sufficient to give you any trouble maintaining your balance, it will be dangerously powerful when applied broadside to your vehicle. Since the vehicle is a lot wider than you are, walk across one way where you want the driver’s side tires to go, then cross back where the other tires will track to check the entire path for hidden holes or rocks.

When crossing moving water, you should if at all possible angle downstream. That way the current will assist your progress rather than hindering it. Crossing broadside is the next best choice; heading upstream significantly increases resistance and heightens the wave pushing up against the front of the vehicle. Just as with still water, keep the engine in its best power band and do not stop—if you do, the current will immediately begin to scour the substrate out from around your tires, quickly burying them to the frame. If the current does catch the vehicle it will usually swing the lighter rear end sideways first; if this happens correct the steering just as you would in a skid, and maintain your speed.

With non-electronically controlled turbodiesel engines and well-sealed snorkels, vehicles such as this Camel Trophy Land Rover 110 are capable of fording very deep water indeed. Courtesy Pete Sweetser/Camel Trophy Owners' Club

What if you are forced to cross a river you know is on the edge of safety? Several precautions are in order (actually these are smart for any crossing). If you have a winch, plug in the remote and run it under the windscreen wiper, over the rear-view mirror, and into the cab. (If your winch has a wireless remote, be advised that it will not work if the receiver on the winch is submerged unless it has an external antenna located high in the engine compartment.) Turn the control lever to freespool and pull out enough cable to hook to the upper part of your brush guard if you have one, then re-engage the lever. This way the hook will be easy to grab, but with the geartrain engaged there’s no possibility something can snag the line and unspool it under the vehicle. without fumbling under water for it. Have shackles, etc. close at hand, and be aware of your anchor point. If no winch is available but you are traveling with another vehicle, pre-attach a tow or kinetic recovery strap to a suitable point on the chassis, and secure it above the waterline for instant access. Discuss with your companion in advance the protocol if your vehicle dies or bogs. 

While it might seem contrary to instinct, if you have power windows they should be left down adjacent to the driver and any passengers. If the engine dies and the vehicle’s electrics fail, power windows will not operate, and your odds of being able to open doors against current are slim (nevertheless, leave the doors unlocked as well). Also contrary to instinct, clip your safety harnesses in behind you (to avoid the nannie buzzer). This is probably the only scenario when it’s better not to be belted into the vehicle, in case a rapid bail-out is necessary. If the engine does die during a deep crossing, do not attempt to restart it, as it could ingest water and turn a relatively minor problem into a very expensive one. Better to get everyone out first and arrange a recovery. How to get out? Through the windows—unless there is no other way to exit, you should leave the doors closed to keep as much water out as possible.

A radiator blind—a temporary water proof cover for the front of the vehicle—is useful on very deep crossings to help keep water and debris out of the engine compartment and air intake. This can be improvised with a folded plastic tarp or anything similar, although the Australian company MSA 4x4 makes a very stylish and effective pro version that attaches in less than a minute.

The MSA radiator blind significantly reduces the amount of water entering the engine compartment.

Safe water crossings are a simple matter of letting common sense win out over both bravado and unreasonable fear. Do it the right way—and let someone else star in the next YouTube compilation.

What causes those %#@**! corrugations?

 . . . or washboard, as they're known (only?) in the U.S. I've been asked this many times, but this time I'll give a nod to the people at Practical Motoring 4x4 in Australia, who explained it perfectly here.

Of course, knowing how they're formed doesn't make them any less infuriating, especially after 40 or 50 unrelenting kilometers of them has loosened every fastener on the truck and every neural connection in your brain, rendering the slightest first-world problem cause for scarlet-faced rage—such as when the iPhone RAM Mount suction cup pops off the windscreen AGAIN and you catch yourself seriously contemplating heaving the whole assembly out the window.

The only defense short of an airlift out by Chinook is to find that sweet spot speed at which the tires are more or less skipping from one crest to the next. It isn't effective enough to use the word relief, but there is a minor lowering of the rage threshold. Beware, however: With the tires in contact with the earth only about 40 percent of the time, the chances for sudden snap-oversteer on a curve or when braking are compounded. And don't think your suspension is getting the relief you are; it's still being punished.

A quality combo tool kit

I’m normally a bit leery of tool sets that combine several different types of tools. I like my socket sets to be socket sets and my wrench sets to be wrench sets. Too many combination kits either seemed to be aimed at people who never actually use tools, or upon inspection they prove to be missing critical items.

However, when Graham Jackson and I were attempting to assemble tool kits for our respective Land Cruisers in Australia, we found that tools Down Under in general seemed to be either a) complete rubbish, or b) stunningly expensive. We bought one combo set that was so insultingly bad we wound up simply ditching it with friends to donate or bin as they pleased. It would certainly have failed at repairing any vehicle more substantial than a pedal car.

The last trip Roseann and I took I was determined to secure a high-quality ratchet/socket set and some decent wrenches. Shopping online from the U.S. I found that the well-respected Bahco tools were available in Australia (as well as the U.S.), so I took a chance on a combination kit (#S106 in the U.S.) and had it delivered to our friends in Sydney. I subsequently had an opportunity to use it for some minor but important repairs, and I was impressed. The ratchets have disappointingly coarse tooth counts (54, crude in this day of 72- and even 80-tooth ratchets), but they incorporate quick-release buttons, which I like, and lever rather than palm directional control, which I strongly prefer. Everything was of reassuringly solid construction, and the assortment was broad enough to be considered comprehensive:

• Standard sockets (1/4 and 1/2-inch drive) from 4mm to a huge 34mm.
• Standard SAE sockets from 3/8 to 1 3/16.
• 1/4-inch drive deep sockets from 4 to 13mm.
• Combination wrenches from 7 to 19mm.
• Flex-head wrenches from 8 to 15mm.
• A good assortment of drive bits.
• Sliding T handles and extensions, in 1/4 and 1/2 inch.
• Four impact sockets, 17, 19, 21, and 24mm. Not sure why these are included in a hand-tool set, but if you have an impact driver they’d be suitable for removing stuck lug nuts. And good as spares.
• Plus everything else you can see here in my hasty snapshots.

With the addition of an 18-inch breaker bar (or, alternatively, the exquisite Snap-on SX80A 18-inch flex-head ratchet), I’d feel confident tackling a major field repair with this Bahco set.

To climb or not to climb . . . Uluru

I'm confident most people reading this will recognize the image above without the need for a caption. Formerly known as Ayers Rock (as christened by William Gosse in 1873 in honor of Sir Henry Ayers, the Chief Secretary of South Australia), it is now preferably referred to by its Aboriginal name, Uluru, bestowed some few thousand years before Europeans chanced upon the 1,100-foot tall (from the base) sandstone inselberg.

We very nearly missed seeing it, fearing the commercialization of the site would spoil it for us. We're glad we decided to go, because the overwhelming grandeur of the place simply crushes any banality humans might tack on to it—besides which we found the visitors' center and associated community extremely well-run, and observantly respectful regarding the deeply held Aboriginal spiritual traditions attached to Uluru.

However. We also uncovered a disturbing controversy.

The local Pitjantjatjara Anangu never climb Uluru, partly because, as I read it, the route to the top crosses a sacred Dreamtime track. Around the site are numerous signs requesting that visitors also refrain from climbing it, both to respect this spiritual tradition and because the people feel responsible when someone is injured or needs rescuing—which apparently occurs with some frequency. 

Why not simply ban climbing? Because the 1985 agreement with the Australian government, which finally granted co-management of the rock to the local people, forcibly included a clause that precluded them from doing so. Numerous pleas from them to rewrite the agreement have fallen on deaf ears. As a result, each year several thousand tourists ignore the local beliefs and requests and climb the rock. Some do so simply to say they have; others apparently believe they gain their own special spiritual benefits from doing so. For some even this is not enough—one visitor apparently thought it would be oh so clever to hit a golf ball from the top; a young French woman decided it would be equally clever to have herself filmed running topless along the crest, to be posted on her Facebook page.

More? Sure: There are no facilities on the summit. Many of those climbers who feel their needs are more important than the beliefs of the local people also suddenly feel the need to urinate or worse after their triumphal ascent. When storms deluge the rock with rain, it forms stunning waterfalls, each carrying with it a little something from all those climbers.

Amelie, lovely young French woman at the excellent tribal arts center, informed us of much of this, expressing disgust at the solipsism of her topless compatriot. She also let us know there was a book we could sign, declaring that we had chosen not to climb Uluru in solidarity. We did so proudly.

The Anangu still hope to change the restrictions the government places on their management of their own sacred site. In the meantime, I'll state this: If you visit Uluru and ignore the requests of the local people because you have something to prove, or your shaman told you your spirit would be healed by the magical air on top, and you fall off—I won't shed a tear.

Pelican's brilliant Air cases

On the off chance you haven’t noticed, except perhaps for the fantastically wealthy among us airline travel is no longer this:

Or this:

Or:

I could go on. These days we’re more likely to feel kinship with passengers on the ships that sailed to Van Diemen’s Land in the 19th century.

The latest erosion of our humanity concerns our luggage. Airlines have realized that we’ve been being massively selfish to want to bring along spurious stuff like, say, clothing, on our vacations. Some have gone so far as to grant us the enormous favor of “First Bag Free!” offers, that we might grovel with gratitude. 

Then there are the carry-on items. (Brief interlude here: A vulture is getting on an airplane with a dead, stinking rabbit under his wing. The stewardess makes a face and says, “Uh, sir, may I check that for you?” And the vulture says, “No thanks, this is carrion.”)

Where was I? Right: I actually have no problem with reasonable carry-on restrictions. Way too much experience cringing in a aisle seat while someone tries to heave an overstuffed carry-on bag into the compartment directly over my head—endangering my skull and cervical vertebrae if he drops it—while viciously shoving aside my own smaller bag. Many of these bags clearly would not have fit in the little trial cage at the counter if anyone had challenged them.

Several years ago Roseann and I solved one problem by employing a pair of Pelican 1510 cases as our own carry-on bags. Completely crush-proof, we could store cameras and laptops inside with zero fear of damage from fellow passengers. They had rollers when needed, and served as decent seats in airports such as Nairobi International, where chairs are virtually non-existent. The capacity was reasonable but the case was significantly smaller than the overstuffed cheap bags, leaving our consciences untroubled. (Bonus: A Pelican case makes a fine impromptu safe in a vehicle when padlocked shut and cabled to a seat track.)

However, that protection had a cost. The 1510 weighs 13.6 pounds packed with nothing but atmosphere. Filled with Canon DSLR equipment mine was upwards of 33. And now many airlines are cracking down on carry-on weight, especially for intercontinental flights. We ran into it the first time last year when a desk agent insisted on weighing ours, expressed polite incredulity at mine, and forced us to stuff lenses and binoculars into our checked duffels. Not happy. 

Some international airlines now list a maximum carry-on weight of 22 pounds—but on others and for certain destinations it’s as low as 15 pounds. That’s a Pelican 1510 and a paperback War and Peace. We had to find new luggage. 

But how to do so without giving up the protection? I looked at the legendary Zero Halliburton aluminum cases; they weighed scarcely less than the Pelican, and were four times as expensive. No polycarbonate cases looked a tenth as stout as the Pelican; several I tried oil-canned at a bare touch. It began to look as though we’d have to go with soft cases and violently interdict anyone abusing them.

Then Pelican solved our problem for us, with the introduction of the Air line of cases. The new 1535 Air looks just like our 1510s, still has wheels, is virtually identical in volume—but weighs just 8.7 pounds, nearly a 40-percent reduction. And we’re still trying to figure out exactly where they lost the weight. It’s clear the material is somewhat lighter—pushing down on the middle of the lid results in a bit more flex than on the 1510—but the case retains virtually all its fragile-contents protection. And four pounds equals my Leica 10x40 binoculars plus a Lumix GX8 and 14-140mm lens, with a few ounces left over. Bravo Pelican.

The most interesting Land Rover I ever saw . .

. . . was not the fully kitted double-cab 130 in Namibia, or the 110 pickup veteran of the Rhino Charge in Kenya, or even the ex-Camel Trophy Defender owned by a friend. 

It was in the spring of 1986. Roseann and I had been doing surveys to map Harris’s hawk nests in the deserts north of Tucson. We’d driven up Highway 79 to the Gila River area early one morning, and after several hours of glassing for nests stopped to refuel our Land Cruiser in the dusty little town of Florence, whose single claim to fame was and still is the massive state penitentiary on its outskirts. We pulled into a Circle K, and Roseann went in to buy a couple of Cokes while I filled up.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a vehicle pull in to another pump, and did a double take. It was an ancient Series 1 Land Rover 86—essentially an impossible vehicle to exist in Florence, Arizona, where anything not from the Big Three would have still been looked on even then as deeply suspicious and probably Democrat.

That it was local became apparent when the driver, a craggy 60-ish gentleman, got out, dressed in faded Wranglers, a tattered western work shirt, and a generic feed cap. I walked over and said hi, which he returned in a drawl as thick as gear oil. Yes, he lived there, yes, he’d owned the Land Rover for a couple decades, although, “I can’t remember where it’s made—somewhere in Europe I think.” As I silently gaped at this, he continued, “When I need parts the fellas at the NAPA here get them for me. Never had any trouble with it though.” He raised the hood and started the engine, which ticked away with a barely audible murmer through its oil-bath filter. 

The Land Rover was dead original—even the tires looked like they might have rolled it out of Solihull. Winch. Canvas hood. The only additions were a rifle rack and a CB radio.

“That your Tiyota?” He pronounced it tie-ota. Nodded when I nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Nice looking vee-hicle.”

Improbable enough already, but then—look closely at the photo here, scanned from a black-and-white print that is the only record I have of the encounter. See the bottle mounted in front of the windscreen on the driver’s side? Look even more closely and you might spot the pipe leading from it, through the fender, and attached to a fitting on the exhaust pipe.

“That? That’s my gopher getter.” Said with not a little pride.

It turned out that Mr. . . . I never got his name . . . derived a fair amount of his income from eradicating the “gophers”—actually pocket gophers—that plagued the nearby farmers, burrowing up from underneath their crops. The bottle contained some viscous and evil-looking brown poison—I never got its name either—which gravity-fed through the tube and was emulsified in the exhaust stream, whence it was pumped via a hose into the holes of the unlucky gophers.

“My own invention! Kills ‘em real quick. No reason for 'em to suffer.”

I was not sure how he had determined this, but . . .

All the nearby landowners had his phone number as well as his CB handle, he said. Nope, no business name, just . . . whatever his name was. Paid in cash per dead gopher.

After a few more pleasantries, he said, “Well, you take care, young fella. Be seein’ ya.”

But we never did again.

Vintage Land Cruiser ads

Probably no car manufacturer will ever exceed the brilliance of Volkswagen with its early Beetle advertisements. However, Toyota did some good work with the FJ40 back in the day. I like the pointed reference to the spare on the hood here.

Running out of VDEGs

We are down to fewer than 20 (edit-10) copies of the Vehicle-dependent Expedition Guide, and do not know when we will receive more stock. If you've been thinking of ordering a copy, please do so soon! Available here.

Update: It appears we will have a new shipment some time in August.