Off-roading in America: How I crossed the Rubicon

Could a team of Jeeps survive a Native American trail in Nevada? Daniel Cobbs gets behind the wheel

'This is where I want to be buried. It's been part of my life for so long, I couldn't think of spending eternity anywhere else." I was talking to Mark A Smith, granddaddy of the Rubicon Trail, as he pointed to the hills to show me his chosen, final, resting place.

It's 6.30am, the Nevada sun has barely risen over the white fir trees, yet this octogenarian has the vigour of a man half his age at this time in the morning. "I love this time of day," he tells me, "it's when Mother Nature is at her most beautiful." And it is easy to see why this patch of 400 acres, just outside Lake Tahoe, has intoxicated and mesmerised Smith for so long. "I first arrived here just after the war. I was following this woman, determined to make her my wife; her family came from these parts." He smiled, "I ended up marrying her and never moved away...."

Smith can recall a time when travellers passed along this ancient Indian trail using horse-drawn carts. "It takes a day to cover six miles in the latest Wrangler. Can you imagine how difficult it was for those old-timers, with only a pony rig?" He had a point. The previous day I had set off in a convoy of Jeep Wrangler Rubicons, along a trail littered with every type of natural obstacle imaginable. From huge Himalayan-size boulders, which seemed to have been picked up and precisely positioned across our way, to fast running rivers strewn with tyre-bursting shingle. If these perilous barriers weren't enough to contend with then the choking red dust, which kicks-up at the slightest breeze and gets everywhere, ensures that the Rubicon Trail remains one of the most challenging off-road courses in the world.

When I queried with Smith whether any part of the 23-mile trek had been contrived for the paying public his genial smile waned and he looked me directly in the eye before retorting, "No, sir! They [the boulders] roll down from the hills and we leave them just where they fall." Strangely, no further evidence was needed to prove that the pony-tailed pensioner wasn't making any of this up.

For more than half a century, Jeeps have been tiptoeing their way across this ancient Native American footpath. It has become a proving ground for all new pre- and post-production Jeeps. In 1954, it was Mark A Smith who first involved Willys Motors – then manufacturer to Jeep vehicles – with this adventure and the rest, as they say, is history. Today, Jeep aficionados and owners can try their off-roading skills with the assistance of Smith's well-oiled organisation. It provides trained staff for the times when the route seems insurmountable and then, when the day's drive is over, they're on hand at the static campsite to cater for the weary traveller.

As we spoke, the peace and tranquillity of the early morning was rudely shattered. Piano Bob surreally started plonking away on a weatherbeaten baby grand to rouse the campers. "We had the piano 'coptered-in for Bob to play his stuff," Smith says, when I turn around to see who has the audacity to smash the serenity of first light. "If we don't tell him to stop, though, he'll just carry on thumping away on them keys." I suggested that perhaps the honky-tonk reveille might be more agreeable as an early-morning alarm if Piano Bob could play at least two out of every three notes in the right order. As the recital filtered around the campsite, my fellow "Jeepers" stirred from their ex-US army canvas dwellings. The second and final day in this off-roading Mecca was about to begin.

In true American fashion, breakfast was a gut-busting affair, served canteen-style by Smith's super-friendly staff. Spookily, they resembled extras from the film Deliverance.

Well fed and raring to go, we saddled up for the final day. Piano Bob, never one to miss an opportunity to perform in front of an audience, played us out of camp with an appalling rendition of "Yankee Doodle Dandy". Yards from the camp's entrance we were confronted with more of the same arduous track we'd grown accustomed to, only this time the loose rocks (some the size of a hatchback), were moist with dew. Over millions of years the roughness of these geological formations has been eroded to leave a glass-like surface. Now devoid of grip, these boulders tried hard to push our Wranglers to the edge of their capabilities.

Yet it would take more than a mass of flawless granite to halt these iconic 4x4s. The Wranglers dismissed them as though they were nothing more than mere pebbles. I would love to say it was the drivers' ability in automotive rock-climbing, however the credit has to go to the vehicle. Unlike most new 4x4s (including other Jeep vehicles), which have opted for the simpler, electronic, push-button method for selecting the low-ratio gearing, the Wrangler retains a manual level, which entails an amount of brute force to operate. Low cogs engaged, the pace only averages 10mph along the smoother part of the route and drops to a near-sedentary pace as you tackle "Big Sluice" or "Cadillac Hill" – regarded as two of the most demanding and technical of all naturally formed off-roading exercises.

But the Rubicon Trail isn't about big, gas-guzzling, 4x4s stomping over some of the most stunning scenery in America. Quite the contrary. Smith, along with the Jeep Corporation, promote the message of "Tread Lightly!" wherever they go. It's a commonsense edict, which encourages all off-road vehicles to "....keep to marked trails, avoid sensitive areas to protect wildlife and fauna, dispose of waste and restore degraded areas" . They're all simple rules and, if followed, can assist in keeping the land free from human influences. The lead instruction vehicle was forever stopping to "sweep-up" debris, thoughtlessly discarded from hikers and sightseers. And with the introduction of the super-clean and super-efficient 2.8-litre diesel engine, the Wrangler has just become more environmentally friendlier, too. I was using one of Smith's fleet of new Wranglers, straight from the showroom – without any post-production modifications. He offers either the two-door or four-door models to those who subscribe to any of his off-road adventures. Prices vary according to the trip (he conducts more than 30 family-friendly trips across America), but the typical cost of the three-day Rubicon Trail is $1,850 (£885 approx), per person (including full-board, one night's camping, excluding flights).

By midday it was nearly all over. The track had levelled out and the seemingly impassable had been left in a wake of red dust. The Rubicon Trail got its name via Caesar. Latin scholars might remember reading his famous words, "alea iacta est," the die is cast. He was declaring war on Rome and once he crossed the river Rubicon, he knew he couldn't turn back. Since then, "crossing the Rubicon" has meant reaching the point of no return – an idiom which sums up so perfectly this adventure.

For further details: www.jeepjamboreeusa.com