"Dave" <kx_dave.RemoveThis@yahoo.com> sez:
<snip> ...I guess if you
> are super-experienced and very self-sufficient it would be OK, but I'm not
> one of those people.
Mebbe I am, mebbe I'm not ... you decide (from a few years ago):
Yo RMD,
I've heard it said that "Adventure is discomfort recounted at liesure" and I
find that to be a very good description of the way it is. Last summer, I was
on a family trip back up to the home country in Montana to visit all the
in-laws, cousins, aunts uncles, etc., shoot off fireworks, drink too much
beer
and get a little riding in too. The location for all of the merriment is
Lincoln, MT (where the Unabomber was holed up) and one of my favorite places
in the world. It's a town that makes its bread and butter off logging in
the
summer and snowmobiling in the winter so the eco-weenies are pretty scarce
and
the trails are plentiful.
On one fine mid-week day, the missus and kids got talked into driving into
Great Falls to take in the cousin's big year-end allstar baseball game. I
was
invited but decided to stick around at the cabin and take a ride I had been
eyeing for a some time. It was a nice long loop, the kind of all day riding
I
*really* like, that would add up to some 120 miles if I could get all the
way
through. The routes on the USFS map hinted that I could. I'd start on a
segment of the Continental Divide trail, work across a medium sized mountain
range, ride a little county dirt road and then loop back around on a route
that skirts the south edge of the Scapegoat Wilderness and finally circle
back
to the cabin by riding just a few miles of pavement. Oh boy! "Nah, you guys
go ahead, I'm going to stay here and get some riding in."
"Riding by yourself, huh?" sez the missus, never being one to mince words,
"Isn't that kind of dumb?" "Um, well, nah, it'll be OK. I'll leave a route
description and if anything looks really tough, I'll just turn around." All
I
got was one of those "OK, its yur ass" looks and a warning that if she had
to
call out the county sheriff and search 'n rescue, I was going to be one
hurting unit whether they found me that way or not. "Hey, it'll be OK honey,
really." I sez trying to convince myself as much as her. Another one of
*those* looks came my way. That image seared into in my memory would come to
play large later in the day. "Fine." she says, "You just be careful."
Well, they all piled into the car and headed up the road to the highway in a
cloud of dust as I pulled out my gear and started getting it all organized
and
put on. The bike was gassed up, chain lubed, camelback full, maps in the
number plate bag and fresh set of batteries in the GPS. I was ready! I put
the gloves on, swung out the kickstarter, pulled the choke up and gave the
XR250 a strong kick. It lit right up and idled happily even though the
morning
air was a cool 48 degrees. I looked around at the mix of blue sky and white
clouds hoped the latter would stay in the minority for the remainder of the
day. A few blips of the throttle with the choke off showed that it was ready
to go so I snicked it into gear and was off. It sure felt good to be back
on
the bike. The first week of this trip had been too many relatives, too many
family social gatherings and too many guest beds that the kids had outgrown
but they were still foisted on visiting company. Now, I didn't have to
smile
at bad jokes or do anything that I didn't want to for the next glorious ten
hours. Life is good. Five miles of road had me at the beginning of the
Continental Divide trail where the sign said "Open to OHVs" in nice clean
red
lettering on white background. Yeeeeeesss!
As usual, the trail hadn't shown much in the way of use since I had ridden
it
the year before and I didn't find anyone else on the trail except for one
traveller with a heavily loaded mule companion. It looked like they were
doing the Continental Divide trail from end-to-end the way that beast was
loaded with big cargo boxes lashed to each side. When I run into four legged
borne recreationalists on the trail, I pull over to let them pass, kill the
motor and take my helmet off so the animal will recognize as something close
to human and not go beserk and throw the rider. I started the drill when she
motioned to me to keep on going and moved off the the side of the trail. I
fired the bike back up and waved as I went by. She didn't look pleased at my
passage and didn't return the wave. Tough. That's what you get when you hike
on a designated OHV route. Once downwind, I got a good whiff of the vapors
coming off that mule, or maybe her, or maybe both. Wheeeeoooo.
The sweet scent of pine and moist loam soon re-established itself and I
found
the first obstacle of the trip, two deadfall trees together in an X with one
on top of the other. No passage was to be had above them due to the
closeness
of all of the trees and below it didn't look much better cuz it was pretty
steep with a large rock outcropping. Damn, I just got started, I can't give
up
now! Hmm, if I could just get my front wheel over the top one, then I could
work the back end over by lifting. OK, here goes! A good bit of throttle and
clutch work got the front end in the air and over the top log but I cased
out
on the bottom one and came to a solid stop. When I put my foot on the log,
it
promptly slid right off being pretty wet from the morning dew and all so me
'n
the bike went over. I managed to not get too tangled up in things, got out
from underneath the bike and got around to the other side of the logs and
lifted the bike up. As I righted the bike, I saw the compression release
level dangling in the wind and the shiny metal glinting in the sun from
where
it had busted off. Nuts. Oh well, don't really need that on this 250 anyway
I
thought and popped it off the cable end and stuck it in the fanny pack.
Three good tugs on the fork tubes with both feet against the logs pulled the
bike over and almost on top of me again but I was too quick for it this
time.
The typical flooded four stroke ten kick routine had me under way again and
I
was back to jammin' down the trail and picking my lines over and through the
roots and rocks. I hadn't even gone more than a quarter mile when I hit
more
deadfall. Oh man, this could turn out to be one looooong day at this rate.
This one was big and just like the last obstacle, there was no way to go
around it. However, there was enough room to maybe go under it. I hit the
kill switch, shut the gas off on the petcock and stuck the front wheel under
the log as I laid it over. I had to kick a couple of big branches off to
crawl through myself and then started yanking on the front tire from the
other
side. The bars just cleared the opening and another bunch of tugs on the
tire, fork tubes and bars got the XR through to the other side. All the
activity had me huffing and puffing but it was time to go as the skeeters
had
discovered my presence and were getting thick. Gas on, some quick kicks and
I
was off again enjoying the mountain air cooling me off after having worked
up
a good sweat pulling the bike under that tree.
Happily, I didn't find any more deadfal for the next seventeen miles and had
nothing but fine riding. The meadows were lush with spring growth and
wildflowers in abundant profusion. The trails through the meadows were
barely
visible in places and even required some hunting along the opposite tree
lines
to find the trails again. By now, I had climbed close to treeline and the
clouds were getting pretty thick going from mostly sunny to mostly cloudy.
It
was getting pretty cool too so I donned my enduro jacket during a quick
break
munching one of those imitation cardboard energy bars. This section of
trail
I was on was heavily used by ATVs so it was pretty wide and easy going for a
bike. About five miles in, it started to neck down to two track and get a
little more interesting. Some nine miles in, the trail started to run along
the side of a pretty good slope and many of the ATVers had given it up at
this
point. Only the most hardy had braved it along this part and the growing
ever
fainter two-track finally ended at this huge tree that had fallen across the
trail. That sucker was over four feet in diameter but I could go up above
it
and squeeze between what was left of the stump and a rock where the four
wheelers couldn't so I kept pressing ahead. On the other side of the tree
there was nothing but single-track. Ahhhh. Actually, more like just a game
trail with zero evidence of wheeled passage and getting more interesting all
the time. I was loving it.
The trail disappeared into a rock outcropping that didn't look too bad so I
kept going by gingerly working my way across it and picking up the trail on
the other side. It started climbing more and up ahead it was obscured by
the
clouds and mist. When I reached the cloud bank, the trail entered the trees
again and everything started getting very dark and very surreal. My
headlight
was doing a pretty good job of illuminating the trees and lush undergrowth
and
here it was just a little past high noon. The foliage in the trees was so
thick that I was looking for slash marks on the trees to tell where the
trail
went. Oh, it had started to rain now too. I kept picking my way through
with
the headlight sweeping a nervous arc through the mist and leaves when I hit
a
whole bunch of deadfall. Some five or six lodgepole pine trees were all
haphazardly stacked on each other like discarded toothpicks. I could see
the
trail beyond them take a turn and start climbing up to the right before
disappearing into the fog. OK, that's it, end of the trail for me. No way
I'm going to try and get this bike over a bunch of wet logs like that all by
myself. I whipped out the GPS to get a fix and store a waypoint to record
how
far I had gotten. No dice. With all of the thick tree cover and it being
wet
and all, I couldn't even pick up one satellite, much less the four required
to
get a position. I'd have to wait to find a clearing to get a fix.
I put the GPS away and got the bike turned around by picking up the back
end,
swinging it around and getting the front pointed back in the direction I had
come. Boy, everything was real wet now but the Moose enduro jacket was
working as advertised and I was only damp from my own perspiration. My
goggles were another story so they were strapped around the back of the
helmet
to keep all the brush and tree limbs from knocking them off so I was getting
wacked in the face by wet leaves and branches. When I popped out of the
trees, I couldn't see very far because the clouds were really getting thick
now. I followed the trail out the same way I had come in and soon came to
that rock face I had ridden across not even an hour earlier. It hadn't
looked
too bad then but now it was wet, muddy and downright menacing. I didn't see
much in the way of good lines above it so I decided to take it real slow and
cross it just like I had before. I did just that by slipping the clutch and
keeping my left foot moving along the rock for better balance. It was
pretty
dicey and I had a pretty good pucker going the whole time. When I was a
little more than half way across, the back tire rolled over a small rock,
slid
and immediately started going downhill. I grabbed the clutch and both the
front and back brakes in an attempt to hold it with thoughts of "Uh oh!"
going
through my head but to no avail. Wet knobbies on rock just don't do much
and
the bike and I went sliding down the mountain. When the back end broke
loose,
it swung me around so that I was sliding down the hill ahead of the bike
with
my left leg underneath it and it on top of me. The machine and I came to a
stop about some thirty feet lower where the rock had played out and the
footpeg and bars had dug into loose soil. My leg was between the engine and
the ground so the heat started coming through really quick. I struggled to
get the bike off me before I got a burn and slid down the hill another
fifteen
feet in the process. I did manage to get it off my leg and rotated around a
bit so that I was along side it instead of under it.
"Damnation!!" Before moving any more, I gingerly tested the tenuous hold
that
the XR had on the side of the hill so things didn't get worse. It was going
to stay put but I was now in some pretty deep shit. I managed to get up on
my
left knee and dig my right foot in a bit so I didn't succumb to gravity more
than I already had and surveyed my predicament. It didn't look good. It
looked just plain bad. Below me, the pitch of the hill got worse and was
nothing but thick trees at the bottom. Above was the rock face I had just
botched crossing and it would be impossible to get up it with all of the
water
dripping off it and the loose marble sized rocks littering its face. The
only
real possibility was to the right of the rocks where it was dirt but real
loose dirt. More like loose mud at this point. Just off to my right and
about fifteen feet below me was one lone little tree sticking up out of the
side of the mountain. I didn't like the idea of losing another good bit of
distance back up to that trail, but if I slid below that tree, it would be
all
over. I chose to slide the bike over such that the tree would arrest any
further descent. I carefully moved myself over to the other side of the
bike,
dug my heels into the loose soil and pulled on the front wheel with
everything
I had to get it over above that precious little tree. It took three tries,
but I made it. I got back over to the other side of the bike and was able
to
get it lifted up and braced against the sapling. Whew.
By this time, I was pouring sweat all over inside my helmet and chest
protector and breathing really heavy. I needed to peel some layers to
lighten
up my load and rest a bit before trying to get my butt out of there so, with
the bike secured, I started hiking back up to the trail. The ground was so
loose, I could barley walk up the hillside! This is when I really started
bummin' big time because the grim reality of being stuck and stuck good was
sinking in. I was too far from a road to be able to make it on foot before
nightfall and besides, it was nothing but dense woods between me and any
semblance of civilization. Nope, if I couldn't get that bike back up the
hillside, I was going to be there all night. I flashed on visions of
explaining to the search and rescue that I really wasn't some dumbass
flatlander up riding in the mountains alone but an experienced dumbass up
riding in the mountains alone. Then, I flashed on the look the wife gave me
before I started out this morning. "Oh man, I'm dead where I stand if I
can't
get out of here and I'll never hear the end of this one!!" A powerfull wave
of determination swept over me to extricate myself and my hapless XR from
that
mountain side!
Once I had hoofed it back up onto the trail, I looked around for some
shelter
and a place to hunker down if it came to that. I found some larger trees
with
some good loam underneath where I could shelter up and started to take all
my
extra gear off. At least the rain started easing up by now. When I got my
helmet, fanny pack, jacket, camelback and chest protector off I looked above
me through the break in the clouds and saw a small peak way at the top of a
talus slope. "A good place to build a signal fire" I thought as I packed
all
my stuff against the tree so it wouldn't roll down the mountain side on me.
"Damn! I'm dead meat if I'm stuck here. The wife is gonna kill me and
she's
going to do it slooooow!" Wave of determination number two swept over me.
I
hiked back over and above where the bike was and it looked awfully far down
that hillside propped against that tree. "No matter, I don't have any
choice.
I've just got to do it." I thought and started sliding and walking down to
it.
I slowly got my leg over the bike and eased myself into a position to try
and
get it started. I made damn sure it wasn't going to go anywhere past that
tree and shifted it into neutral. I went to pull in the decompression lever
to do my usual routine to clear a flooded 4-stroke but all I grabbed was
air.
"Aww shit, I broke that off this morning." I said to myself as I looked at
the
cable end sticking out where the lever use to be. With no recourse but just
flat out kicking it until it lit up I got with it. It took quite a few but
then the trusty XR sputtered a bit and came to life. I sat on it for a
minute
letting it get warmed up wondering how best to try and get up that buggered
hill with zero running start. I was going to have to push it up the hill.
I
climbed off on the left side and got ready by making sure I had good
footholds. Then, I pulled in the clutch, put it in gear, took a deep
breath,
gassed it, dumped the clutch and pushed on the bars with every thing I had.
The XR scratched and clawed for traction as I used every inch of reach I had
but it was just digging in so I hit the kill switch being careful not to
drop
it again. Two feet was all I got, two feet. Thirty eight feet to go.
Sonabitch! Well, one more time I guess. The back end had dug in enough
that
it was going to hold the bike to I put in into neutral and got over to the
other side to get it started again. Once running, it was back to the other
side, another deep breath, and the same gas it while dumping the clutch and
pushing with everything I had again until there was no more and hit the kill
switch. Another measly two feet. Thirty six feet to go and I was already
whipped. I kicked some dirt in behind the rear wheel just to make sure it
was
going to stay put. This was going to take a while.
Well, you guessed it. Rinse, lather, repeat. I kept doing the same thing
try
after try. At least I was making forward and upward progress and there just
wasn't anything else I could do. When I was about halfway up, I felt like I
just didn't have anything left. I was spent. My arms and legs were
starting
to cramp up and I felt like I was going to pass out. I just stood there
holding the bike up and it holding me up and breathing like I was having an
athsma attack. Twenty feet to go. I glanced at my watch to check the time
and it read 4:20. Shit, I said I'd be back by 5:00. That vision of that
"look" from the wife flashed over me again and wave of determination number
three swept over me. I got that XR fired up again and this time I pinned it
wide open and held it there while I clawed for every trace of traction I
could
get from my riding boots in that loose stuff and screamed probably louder
than
the bike. Ten feet this time and I felt like I was going to pass out again.
More rest. I needed more rest. I took maybe fifteen minutes this time all
the while contemplating how I had gotten myself into this mess. So close
now.
I did the delicate movement of getting around to the other side without
dumping it and got it started up again. Then back over to the other side,
put
it in gear, rev 'er up and give it my all. Aaaaaauuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhh!!! I
made the trail! I'd done it. I was saved. I was delirious. I got the XR
straightened out and pointed down the trail and looked for where I had left
my
gear. It was above me and the trail went ... waitaminnit, DOWN??? No, no,
no, this can't be. I didn't remember climbing UP on the trail when I had
first come to this rock outcropping, the trail was pretty much level. This
isn't the right trail!! I couldn't believe it. It was almost too much.
At least I wasn't off the side of the mountain anymore and right trail or
wrong trail I was on a trail. I decided to walk around a bit and try and
find
my original trail and get my gear picked up and back on in the process. My
boots felt like lead and my muscles were still cramping on me so walking up
that hill took some doing. I got to my stuff and just about sucked the
camelback dry to get rehydrated. While getting my gear put back on, I looked
around for the right trail. None in sight. I walked 'n slid back down to
the
bike and scoped out the trail again. After all I had been through, there
was
no way I was going to head back down that friggin' mountain. If I used a
bit
of the trail to get a run at it, I could turn left and head up the hill and
get to yet higher ground. The trail I want has got to be up there
someplace.
I threw a leg over the bike, kicked it to life, put it first and headed down
the trail. As soon as I hit second, I turned to head up the hill but when
the
front tire hit the softer loam and pine needles, it washed out and I was
down
on the ground again. I never feld so tired in all my life and just wanted
to
lay there - forever. Slowly and somewhat painfully, I got up and picked up
the bike. It felt like a Harley dresser instead of an XR. I swung it
around
and got it back down to the trail and now I was pointed back in the
direction
of that damn rock outcropping I had fallen off. About fifteen feet ahead
was
another spot I might be able to ride the bike up. I fired the XR up,
clicked
it into gear and launched forward again. I didn't even try to hit second
gear
this time but kept it wound up in first and turned into the hill. I started
to lose traction so began paddling furiously with all the energy I had left
saying "Come on, come on, come on ..." The 250 lurched and bucked and
finally
started to bite into something firmer and then hooked up solid as I started
riding it up the hill trying desperately to keep that light front end from
coming up on me. The slope lessened a little and I was able to get it into
second and pick up more speed. I kept it pinned.
I was expecting to cross the trail I was looking for as I climbed but
didn't.
I was getting almost to the talus I had spotted from below so I veered off
to
the left a bit and then back to the right when I spotted a route up to the
top
on the left flank ridge line. It felt soooo good to be riding up again I
kept
going all the way to the top. When I got there, I saw the meadow I had come
down through off to my left through a break in the clouds. Yahoooo. I was
so
happy to spot that trail that I rode 'n slid right down through the talus
and
to the saddle that would lead me to the meadow and back to home. I never
did
cross the other trail I was expecting nor did I see any trail come back in
on
the right so I had done the right thing by not following that other trail
further down. It felt so fine to be back on a familiar route and heading
back
to a warm dry house with wife 'n kids waiting. I was already way late so
felt
rushed to get back but given how tired I was and how wet the trail still
was,
I backed off on my speed so I didn't do something stupid on some slippery
root.
I finally got back to the trailhead without crashing and turned onto the
county road to take me back to Lincoln. It had started raining again but I
didn't care. I was headed home. I cranked the bike up to an uncomfortable
cruising speed of about 50 with the rain stinging me on the cheeks where it
was getting by my visor. I was also getting pretty cold by this time and
those uncontrollable shivers and body tremors started setting in. I just
sqeezed the tank with my legs harder to keep from falling off. Those
seventeen miles seemed to take forever but I finally turned into the road
leading back to the cabin. I checked my watch again, 7:23. The house rule
is
not to worry until I'm over two hours late. I was. The missus was going to
be worried and probably pissed too. As I pulled into the yard, she was on
the
porch having heard me coming up the drive. "I was about ready to go into
town
and call the sheriff." she says. "You almost had to." came my reply. "What
happened?" she asked. I told her about the whole ordeal in brief and all
she
had to say was "Well, I told ya it was a dumb thing to do." and went inside.
So much for sympathy. I didn't care. I was alive, I was home, I was safe,
I
had survived an adventure, I was a little older, I was little wiser and I
had
a story to tell ...
Good ridin' to ya,
Victor Johnson
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
'75 Goldwing "Big air. Kids today, that's all they want, big air.
'89 Hawk GT I say keep it on the dirt, that's where the fun is.
'98 XR400R You want big air kid? Pull my finger."
<a style='text-decoration: underline;' href="http://www.vlj.com" target="_blank">http://www.vlj.com</a> - Smooth Johnson (master of the berm)
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