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Byline: NATALIE NEFF
The Jeep Wrangler teetered on the cliff's edge, its nose dangling over one boulder and aiming squarely at a mountain's worth more. A few folks had scattered around the steep, 90-degree right-hander the Wrangler had just shot through-or, rather, over-variously pointing, crouching or standing with hands on hips, apparently trying to deduce the best way to get the trucklet back on all fours. No one looked overly concerned-at least the concern was not tangible from the vantage point a couple of hundred feet below.
The radio crackled, the first signs of a solution making its way down the hill in staccato syllables, something about ropes ...