THE MUD CLUB

THE turbo-charged engine in Jesse Cruz’s ’82 Toyota pickup is whining like an angry hornet, while his spinning tires spew a cloud of dirt and rocks along the border of an off-road recreation area in the Angeles National Forest.

It’s a warm Sunday morning, and Cruz, a burly machine operator with a crew cut, has his mud-caked pickup propped against a nearly vertical bank of the San Gabriel River. The bank is too steep to climb, and Cruz knows it. But he continues to hammer down on the accelerator, letting his knobby tires whirl while his truck shakes and shimmies.

This must be some advanced off-road technique designed to test the power and climbing ability of the vehicle. What’s it called?

“It’s called horsing around,” Cruz answers. “It’s called having fun.”

Environmentalists call it destructive, whether done legally or illegally. Government officials are concerned too, restricting off-roaders to a smaller slice of state and federal parks while cracking down on illegal riders on public land. (See accompanying story.) Obscenely high gas prices are hitting off-roaders in the pocketbook. Safety advocates and law enforcement officials warn that the sport can be dangerous, particularly when youngsters ignore common-sense precautions. But all that hasn’t stopped off-roaders from buying motorcycles, all-terrain vehicles and four-wheel-drive trucks at a national rate of 1,500 a day. Despite its rough-and-rowdy reputation, off-roading continues to be a recreational juggernaut, growing in the number of enthusiasts by 42% in the last four years.

With nearly half a million enthusiasts in Los Angeles, Orange, San Diego, Riverside and San Bernardino counties, Southern California is the hub of off-roading in the West. Yet there are only a handful of areas in the Southland where it is legal. In fact, environmental restrictions and the high cost of land have made it nearly impossible for state and federal officials to keep up with the demand for off-road parks. As a result, government agencies have located most of them in dried lakebeds, muddy reservoirs or hot desert scrubland, miles from urban centers.

In 1971, Bruce Brown’s motorcycle racing documentary, “On Any Sunday,” helped kick-start the rise of the Off-Road Nation. Since then, the pastime has flourished on a steady diet of cheap imported dirt bikes, ATVs and four-wheel-drive trucks. But off-roaders note that risk is inherent in every sport. In recent years, the off-roading ranks have swelled as people move from tightly packed urban centers to outlying communities near swaths of dirt trails and desert playgrounds. By the latest count, nearly 1 in 4 Americans older than 16 has blazed a dirt trail on a motorized beast of burden.

The Off-Road Nation has also expanded in recent years beyond its mostly white, young, male base to include African Americans, Latinos and females, and folks across all socioeconomic lines.

But what motivates them? Is it an innate, childish desire to play in the mud, kick up a cloud of dust and splash through a creek bed? Is it the exhilaration of throttling an engine and being catapulted over dirt and rocks, defying the cautious driving rules of the crowded urban freeways?

It’s all of that and more, say off-roaders.

“It’s an adrenaline rush,” says “Big Mike” Bishop, president of the Azusa Canyon Off Road Assn., a group of four-wheelers who gather weekly at the San Gabriel Canyon Off-Highway Vehicle Area. “It’s the fear of the unknown. You climb a hill and you don’t know what’s on the other side.”

THE Hungry Valley State Vehicular Recreation Area is a 19,000-acre stretch of desert scrubland near Gorman, about 65 miles northwest of Los Angeles. It’s a dry, parched valley -- a wonderland for lizards and snakes -- with dozens of steep hills and canyons, crisscrossed by 130 miles of well-worn dirt trails.

On a warm Friday afternoon, Jason Scott, a building manager from San Diego, rockets his green Kawasaki motorcycle up a steep dirt trail, the engine’s whine echoing off the nearby chaparral-covered hills. His shaved head and broad shoulders make him look like an off-roading Marine. Meanwhile, his 15-year-old son, Alex, spins doughnuts and figure eights on an ATV at the hill’s dusty base.

Scott’s wife, Yvonne Camacho, and their daughter, Skyyler, 13, are at a nearby campsite, unpacking the food and getting ready for a campfire dinner of steak and hamburgers.

This is quality time for the Scott family; trips like this have been a tradition for years. When the weather allows, they go off-roading nearly once a month.

“It’s just nice to get out and get away from the city,” says Camacho, who rides an ATV when she is not setting up camp.

The Scott family is not unique. Off-roading is increasingly a family affair, growing in popularity among young girls and adults between the ages of 30 and 50, according to the 2005 National Survey on Recreation and the Environment, prepared for the U.S. Forest Service.

The Scott family’s love of off-roading was born when Jason Scott was a teenager, riding dirt bikes in the foothills of the Inland Empire. When he grew up and started a family of his own, he passed along his interest to his wife and kids. It’s the most common way off-roaders start -- an introduction from a parent.

“There’s not a lot you can do as a family when you work five, six days a week,” Scott says. “How long are they going to be this age?”

In fact, Skyyler insists she has already outgrown the sport. The teen, with long bangs, black T-shirt and black pants, says she would rather hang out with friends than eat dust in a parched off-road park. But she humors her parents and tries not to complain too much. Her mom packs playing cards and a horseshoe game to try to keep her occupied.

Scott jumps on the ATV and guns the engine, trying to get enough momentum to summit the wicked-steep hill about a hundred yards from the campsite. From the campsite, Alex watches his dad stall the ATV only 20 feet from the top. In the distance, he can hear his dad burst out laughing as he struggles to keep the ATV from rolling back down the hill.

“Whenever I hear we are going riding, I’m happy and my dad is happy because he is getting away from work,” he says.

AS far back as Travis Work can remember, dirt bikes and off-roading have been part of his life.

He rode his first motorcycle when he was 6, and now that he’s graduated from high school, Work hopes to attend an automotive fabrication school to learn how to build off-road trucks and Jeeps.

Meet the heart and soul of off-roading.

The biggest share of off-roaders in America are young, white males, usually with no more than a high school education, according to the 2005 national recreation survey. Most are self-employed and earn less than $50,000 a year.

But that profile is rapidly changing. Off-roading has grown in popularity among almost every demographic category and among people with postgraduate degrees, according to the survey. Latino participation rates, for example, more than doubled from 1999 to 2004.

Work, a wiry 18-year-old with short brown hair, was born into the world of off-roading. His parents, Terry and Faith Work, are officers of the 5,000-member California Off-Road Vehicle Assn., the state’s most influential off-roading lobbying group. He lives in Quartz Hill, within a short drive of the Hungry Valley Off-Highway Vehicle Park and the El Mirage Off-Highway Vehicle Recreation Area in western San Bernardino County.

Work rides ATVs and four-wheel-drive trucks, but he prefers motorcycles, riding two or three times a week on average. A typical trip includes three or four friends, a few dirt bikes and ATVs and lots of dirt trails and hills. Lately, he’s been working on his freestyle technique, which involves flying off a ramp and performing tricks in midair.

For Work and teens like him, conventional pastimes just don’t cut it. He has tried basketball, baseball and soccer, but he says he has never found the excitement in organized sports to match that of off-roading.

“It’s a complete adrenaline rush,” he says. “I usually go as fast as my bike can go.”

BACK at San Gabriel Canyon, Cruz’s pickup is stuck in a pool of mud with the consistency of bubbling oatmeal. He climbs out of the truck, sloshes through the mud and throws out a tow rope in hopes someone will answer his signal for help.

It’s near noon, and the off-road park -- 160 acres of rocky riverbed and a flat, muddy expanse behind the San Gabriel Reservoir dam -- is getting crowded.

Most of the regulars to San Gabriel Canyon roll in on four-wheel-drive trucks, the most popular off-road vehicle on the market, according to a 2004 survey by Off-Road Business magazine. Off-roaders love their toys, spending an average of $13,000 on upgrades and modifications, the survey showed. In the San Gabriel Canyon, it seems as if most of that money goes toward modified suspensions, skid guards, tow hooks, wenches and knobby tires the size of dinner tables.

The off-roaders take turns splashing through the mud or tearing up a steep riverbank. Some just sit on their truck beds and take in the scene.

Every once in a while, somebody tries something outlandish. That’s how Cruz ends up stuck in the mud. He tries to drive to a rocky island, surrounded by knee-deep water and mud, just behind the dam. He gets about 50 yards from the island when his tires spin furiously, flinging mud in all directions.

After a few minutes, an off-roader in a 3/4 -ton Chevy truck latches the tow rope to his tow hook and pulls Cruz from the quagmire. Once on solid ground, Cruz takes another shot at reaching the island.

Cruz, 40, has been off-roading for 15 years, spending at least $40,000 on modifications and improvements to his pickup. His wife of 19 years tolerates his hobby, but his brother thinks spending that kind of money is crazy. But Cruz sees off-roading as essential stress relief from his long hours of operating machines for a road-paving firm.

“There are no rules out here,” he says. “There are no signs that say, ‘No right turn,’ ‘No left turn.’ You can do what you want.”

Cruz guns the engine, trying to get enough momentum to get past the mud that surrounds the small dirt island. This time he makes it. He idles for a minute, taking in his accomplishment. But then a parade of trucks and Jeeps follows his tracks across the mud, invading Cruz’s island.

He cranks the steering wheel, throws the truck into gear and speeds back to solid ground across the water.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “This place has been conquered.”

*

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

Putting it in (low) gear

A look at five of the most popular Southern California off-road parks:

Hungry Valley State Vehicular Recreation Area

Where: In the Tejon Pass north of L.A., along Interstate 5, just a mile beyond Gorman. (About 70 miles from downtown L.A.)

When: Seven days a week, 24 hours a day

Lay of the land: Nearly 19,000 acres and 130 miles of trails over parched hills and sand washes. Fees: $5 per vehicle per day

Info: (661) 248-7007

Oceano Dunes State Vehicular Recreation Area

Where: Near Oceano, north of Santa Maria, just off Highway 1. (Nearly 190 miles northwest of downtown Los Angeles.)

When: 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily

Lay of the land: About 1,500 acres of beach and sand dunes. Expect big crowds, strong winds and flying sand.

Fees: $4 per vehicle

Info: (805) 473-7223

Ocotillo Wells State Vehicular Recreation Area

Where: Off California 78, south of Palm Springs, east of San Diego. (Just over 190 miles from downtown L.A.)

When: Always open

Lay of the land: Nearly 80,000 acres of desert terrain, including washes, sand hills and mud.

Fees: None

Info: (760) 767-5391

Rowher Flat Off-Highway Vehicle Area

Where: Take Rush Canyon Road north off Sierra Highway, 10 miles north of Santa Clarita. (About 36 miles from downtown L.A.)

When: Dawn to dusk, daily

Lay of the land: More than 10,000 acres of hilly terrain. Some paths lead to spectacular views of Bouquet Reservoir to the north.

Fees: All vehicles must have a National Forest Adventure Pass ($5 per day).

Info: (661) 296-9710

San Gabriel Canyon Off-Highway Vehicle Area

Where: Along California 39, north of Azusa, about a mile beyond East Fork Road. (About 36 miles from downtown L.A.)

When: Weekends and holidays

Lay of the land: About 160 acres of rocky river bed and muddy flats, ideal for ATVs and four-wheel drive vehicles.

Fees: $8 per vehicle, plus $5 for secondary vehicle (such as an ATV hauled on a trailer).

Info: (626) 910-1235