The camouflaged, jacked-up, roaring Jeep wagon headed for the 150-foot-long mud pit in shimmering, 90-degree heat. About 200 mud run fans lined the banks, cheering on all comers. The cheers disappeared in the unmuffled roar from the straining engine.

It didn’t seem to matter who was driving as long as the trucks slammed into the pit, as long as they made as much noise as mechanically possible, as long as they shot a rooster tail of mud 30 feet in the air.

“We are one big, happy, muddy family,” explained Rene Howard of Swanville, a very happy spectator.

Some daffy drivers get a kick out of driving through a three-inch puddle on a paved highway. But seriously deranged mud run drivers are not happy unless they are churning through a 4-foot-deep swampy pit, competing against some of their best friends, risking mechanical breakdowns and expensive repairs, all for a trophy. There are a dozen spots in Maine with mud runs, with some events attracting hundreds of competitors.

For the past four years, The Town Line Animal Shelter has been the beneficiary of a mud run and pig roast on the Fitzjurls farm in Belfast. Compared to mammoth events in Hunnewell Valley in Embden and Seboeis Stream in Howland, the Belfast event is small potatoes. But the 200 Waldo County residents who attended the Saturday event got their $5 worth.

This year, unexpected heavy rains turned the pit into a swamp. There was too much water, actually too much mud. In the afternoon competition, none of the 20-plus vehicles could get more than 30 feet into the mess, where they stalled and had to be extricated by a skidder.

On this day, none of the heavy engines, huge tires, snorkeled exhaust and special suspensions could beat the mud. One by one, the trucks were hauled out by a skidder. Many were out of commission, at least for the day.

Mud run organizer Walter Fitzjurls picked up the bullhorn and asked his 200 customers if they wanted to move to a new mud pit and start the competition all over again. The throaty roar was his answer.

“We are all rednecks and we don’t give a crap, right?” he said.

If anyone on the Fitzjurls farm objected to the redneck label, the heat, or the mud run relocation, they kept it to themselves.

After all, it was for a good cause.

It was the fourth annual Mud Run to benefit the shelter, a facility run for 28 years by Corinne Fitzjurls, the organizer’s mother. The operation is a “no kill” shelter and expensive to maintain, the son related.

So the boys invite their high-octane pals and their fans to the farm each July to see who can get the farthest the fastest through the mud. The drivers have invested anything from a few hundred dollars to tens of thousands in their trucks and they just love to play in the dirt. The truck exhaust systems are covered with a snorkel to run underwater. The radiators are moved to the rear, to avoid damage.

This is carefully controlled mayhem. As the sign on the farm entrance says, “No dogs. No Liquor. No attitudes.”

In what might be the only non-alcoholic pig roast ever, there is no drinking at the farm during the race. “There are too many trucks, too many kids and too much liability,” the host explained. An alcohol-fueled accident could close the farm operation, he added.

Mud run drivers are as different as their bizarre vehicles.

Ken Ryan of Belfast rolled his almost pristine, 1990 white Jeep wagon into the competition area. He said he drives in mud runs “to go farther and better than my neighbor.” He was seduced by a mud run story in a truck magazine and has never looked back.

Wayne Heal of Lincolnville drove a dune buggy contraption. He figures that he has competed in 14-15 mud runs annually for the past 20 years. That, according to old math, adds up to 300 events.

“I ended up with a four-wheeler in a trade. That’s what got me into mud runs,” he said. Now he runs a dune buggy with a V-6 engine equipped with oversized tires. He has lost track of how many engines have been in and out of the beast.

No one expects to get the money back they have invested in engines, transmissions and tires from prize money. Most mud runs offer little more than “trophies and gas money” to the winners, he said.

Dana Bishop of Frankfort runs a monster Ford 350 truck, complete with 44-inch tires. He snapped his steering just trying to get through the muddy yard to get to the competition pit. There was a mud run just to get to the mud run. The race was halted for more than 45 minutes until a welding rig arrived to put Bishop back in the race. No one complained.

Friends explained that the rig was run by Bishop’s father until he was killed in a motorcycle accident. “He is trying to keep it going,” someone explained.

Waiting for his welder, Bishop said the appeal of mud running is “taking something you built yourself and seeing what you can do with it, seeing what you can break,” he said.

“It isn’t the money. It’s just the thrill of getting out there. I haven’t got hurt, not yet.”

Lee Graf of Searsmont bought a four-wheel drive vehicle and started running off road for recreation. Then he got hooked on mud. “I knew most of these guys and started running in the mud. I like breaking stuff and then fixing it.”

Despite the furious competition, few mud runners get hurt. The drivers are all strapped in and some wear helmets.

Drivers swear that the noise is a good thing. “The noisier they are, the better they are breathing,” one said.

The camaraderie and friendship is just as important as the completion at local mud runs.

It takes a special person to drive in the mud. It takes a special person to come out and watch, in 90-degree heat.

“We are a bunch of hicks, This is cheap entertainment,” explained Rene Howard of Swanville. She was headed to Sebois the next day for another mud run.

Peter King of Searsport said “Why not? We come just for the hell of it.”

“It’s the redneck thing to do, play with trucks in the mud. Almost all of them are our friends,” said spectator Adam Wood of Searsport.

Belfast City Councilor Robert Gordon made the trip to see his son compete. “It’s a good time, a good attraction,” he said. His son was one of the first to put a snorkel on the engine to keep water out. “Now they all do it,” he said.

To attract a few more customers, the mud run offers a pig roast. The irony of a pig roast at an event to save an animal shelter is not lost on the Fitzjurls family. “My mother is a vegetarian. She said the same thing. We got the meat from a humane slaughter house. She is not wicked happy. But you have to offer something to get the people here.”

The event has raised more than $2,000 for the shelter for each of the past four years, so Corinne Fitzjurls accepts the pig roast.

On a brutally hot day, the hottest job fell to John Gelsinger of Bucksport.

Gelsinger volunteered to put the pig on the coals at 8 a.m., hoping that the beast will be cooked by noon. The pig is stuffed with whole chickens and sausage, which extended cooking time. But the hot weather should aid in the cooking process, he said.

Naturally, mud runs are a thirsty activity. When the competition has concluded, the drivers and fans end up at the Club 132 for a rock band, dancing, prizes, raffles and a few cold adult beverages.

Upcoming Maine Mud Runs

Aug. 13, Athens

Aug. 19, McIntyre Field, Hodgdon

Aug. 20, Oxford

Aug. 27, Mexico

Sept. 2-3, Maine State Mud Run of Champions, Hunnewell Valley,

Embden.

($20 per adult and $10 for children under 12. For more details, visit www.hunnewellvalley.com)

Sept. 9, McIntyre Field, Hodgdon

Sept. 10, Athens

Sept. 16, Ashland

Sept. 16-17, Pittston

Sept. 24, Oxford

Sept. 30, McIntyre Field, Hodgdon

Oct. 1, Livermore

Oct. 14, McIntyre Field, Hodgdon