Like a working-class kid bent on proving he's as good as the country club set any day, the modified Jeep CJ charged again and again up the primitive four-wheel drive track. But it just couldn't make it.
Ahead, 12,000 feet high in Colorado's San Juan Mountains, a black, factory-stock 1991 Mercedes-Benz Gelaendewagen 300GE — G-wagen for short — presided over the scene. Its $72,500 used-car sticker dangling on a window like a matador's taunting red muleta, it had made it to the top of the track on the very first try.

•

World-class sport-utility vehicles by any measure, G-wagens cloak off-road prowess beneath a deadpan veneer — until they are unleashed by competitive spirits who just love coming in first. Being from society's upper crust — movie stars, entrepreneurs, the Pope — those who travel in guh LIN de vahgens are achievers. That's why they can buy new, $120,000 sport-utility vehicles. And they expect their vehicles to be like themselves: the best. Still, G-wageneers do have something in common with commoners: Few ever use their SUVs' off-highway abilities. In defense of G-wagen owners, though, one can understand why, after paying a price bigger than many retirement accounts, they would be loathe to really see what a G can do.

But in the rarefied company of this 4x4, some do risk bending their Benzes. They explore the world's superlatives — its great deserts, canyons and mountains — in a marque that is a superlative itself.

•

One August day some years ago, five G-wagens with a combined value exceeding $300,000 left the lot of the firm that was, at the time, the sole U.S. Gelaendewagen distributor, Europa International of Santa Fe, New Mexico. They would link up at Durango, Colorado, with a band of die-hard adventure motorists, the G Club of Germany, and explore some of the Colorado Rockies' most famous backcountry byways. The 1,500-member G Club had chartered a Lufthansa 747 jumbo jet to fly 18 vehicles, their owners and their families to Las Vegas, Nevada. There they began a three-week odyssey through the Southwest, mixing highways and rudimentary back roads. It was their first trek through the Lower 48.

•

For three days and 600 miles, a group of Europa employees, customers, friends and family members enjoyed Rocky Mountain splendor and driving challenges from the comfort and security of what some consider the world's best SUV. The group was assembled by Europa president Dave Holland, who had helped the G Club plan its itinerary.

The G-wagen lineup reflected the evolution from utilitarian models from the '80s to a new 1995 G320 with leather and a four-speed automatic. One couple, Richard and Michele Martinez of Santa Fe, drove their blue 1990 two-door 300GE, the fifth G-wagen they've owned.

The Martinezes have long been avid off-highway travelers: "If you don't go off-road," Rich explained, "you really don't see what there is to see in the United States."

•

The late-model G-wagens cruised in hushed Benz style as we followed U.S. 285 across the tawny high desert north of old Santa Fe. Before long we were soaring through the sylvan Tusas Mountains on State Highway 64. We crossed the Continental Divide, and meandered through the pastoral Jicarilla Apache and Southern Ute Indian Reservations, following the dirt and gravel bed of the defunct Denver & Rio Grande Western Railroad.

We spent the first night in Durango, where the air was pungent with smoke from the steam-powered locomotives of the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. In the 1880s, millions of dollars worth of gold and silver were hauled along its route. Today, tourists are the ore. Nearby loomed the imposing San Juans, which rise more than 14,000 feet above sea level.

In the morning we met the G Club, camped outside of town. Forty-five men, women and children had come to America with the club. Some of their vehicles appeared factory stock, which says a lot: full-time 4wd and push-button center, front and rear differential locks for superb traction on the most villainous terrain. Some were loaded with expedition gear and rooftop tents. But our visit was short, for sky-scraping passes, cascading waterfalls, silent ruins and off-road challenges awaited.

After a stop in Silverton, a rustic mining town that has retained much of its 19th century visage, we took U.S. 550, a.k.a. The Million-Dollar Highway, to Red Mountain Pass. There, we turned onto the exhilarating 4x4 road, No. 823, over 12,840-foot Black Bear Pass. As we climbed, forest gave way to Alpine tundra and talus fields luxuriant with wildflowers. On the descent, we inched down rocky pitches, through the rushing water of Ingram Falls, around a notorious series of tight switchbacks, past 350-foot Bridal Veil Falls, and then cruised into Telluride, a trendy old mining town framed by hanging valleys and cirques quarried by glaciers.
Heads turned at the sight of the unfamiliar SUVs. "I didn't know Mercedes made one," was a common comment.

We pulled into town at about 4 p.m., tired but not done for the day. Ahead of us still was 13,114-foot Imogene Pass, our route to Ouray. Out of Telluride, we edged along a crude mountainside track, Forest Road 869, toward the 19th century Tomboy Mine, a gold operation 3,000 feet above town.

•

Mechanical problems developed on the way up. The brakes on the 1991 300GE had difficulty holding the 2.5-ton vehicle on a steep uphill grade. Holland vowed the problem would be fixed. The same vehicle overheated as we climbed. Throwing snow onto the radiator got us to the top. (The final solution: replacing the radiator cap.) Later, the two-door would have problems getting into low gear, which also was apparently easily fixed.

From Imogene Pass we scanned the taupe geologic meringue that is the San Juans, glazed by early evening alpenglow. Then the line of G-wagens crawled along the crest of a ridge, and began the long descent to Ouray. In the morning we set off for Engineer Pass, 12,860 feet high, and the final leg of our journey. We followed Forest Roads 878, part of the stunning 65-mile Alpine Loop National Back Country Byway, and 876.2, up the trough of Poughkeepsie Gulch.

•

The duel between Holland's G-wagen and the Jeep occurred up here as they climbed under a leaden sky toward 12,930-foot California Pass. Holland enjoys showing what G-wagens can do. People need to see what these military spinoffs can do, he explains. "And it's fun."
Our caravan scaled Engineer Pass for a final gaze across the restless sea of peaks. Then we cruised down to Lake City, where our rough-country tour ended. The G Club paraded by while we gassed up. Suddenly the air was pierced with first one shrill, salutory blast of a horn, then another and another as they headed to a campground rendezvous. We waved. Then those of us in the newer G-wagens succumbed to their quiet comfort, letting them carry us home in a whisper.

Back To Top