When I was a senior in high school my brother and I commandeered my dad's 77F150 4x4 on senior ditch day. It was mid may and we decided to take a ride over Mt Taylor a 11,000 + ft tall mountain just outside of town. The top of the mountain usually isn't passable until mid june (or at least it wasn't when I was growing up). We got about a 1/2 mile from the top and we were the only tracks on the road. We were busting through snow drifts that were hood high and ranged fron 20 yards long to 100 yards long. We made it over the top without problem and started down the back side of the mountain which faces North. Lots more snow on the back side. we had went a mile or two down the back side of the mountain when we came upon a drift that we couldn't see the end of. We could see about 300 yards and the road and drift disappeared into a patch of trees.
My brother didn't even hesitate he just drove right in. About 50 yards from the patch of trees that I mentioned, we lost traction and there we were. Stucker than yoiu know what. We had to climb out of the windows to assess the situation. The snow was about 6" below the bottom of the side windows where we came to a stop. There we were without a jacket and in tennis shoes.
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Walking back to town wasn't a very pleasant thought. We didn't have a shovel, but we did have a handyman jack. We started scrounging up tree branches and limbs. We jacked up the rear tires and piled the brush underneath them. we were able to move back maybe 10 ft. This gave us enough room to jack up the front and get some branches and brush under the front tires and then repeated the process for the back tires. This time we moved back maybe 20 or 30 ft. We repeated this process for the next 2 or 3 hrs until we got out of that long arsed drift. We found a spot to get turned around and headed down the mountain.
28 years later and from that day on, I don't head into the woods without a jacket or a handyman jack!