NEWRY, Maine – The Jeep was stuck. Like real deal, someone’s going to be in trouble, and that someone is me, stuck. And the instructor in the passenger seat next to me kept telling me I didn’t do anything wrong, although I had a sneaking suspicion he was getting paid to say exactly that. The line of Jeeps behind me couldn’t go anywhere until my vehicle started moving again, so naturally (being a group of photographers and journalists) they all started taking pictures.
It’s 30 degrees in a forest smack dab in the middle of the Northeast, and this couldn’t be any closer to what my imagined version of hell is like.
Make no mistake, it wasn’t the tires’ fault. The tires allowed me to climb over rocks, get through snow incredibly easy, and pretty much make me feel like an action movie hero for the past hour or so. It wasn’t the guide’s fault, either. He did his job, told me where to go, and gave me very specific, but easy-to-follow instructions. Looking back, it wasn’t really my fault if I allow myself to admit that (although I never will). I was the first through that particular trail, and it had warmed up over the course of the day, and that tire broke straight through the ice, getting wedged in a hole with mud all around.