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Another Cal Poly Penguins’ DS Run Trail Markings

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Posted by: placelast

We went at it again Sunday, only this time on another ranch; one I have never been on before.

I was told we would meet at the on-campus shed at 9am, and when we arrived there was only one there, solo, installing a new front tube – no one else in sight. R2s had forgotten his gloves, so we went back home to retrieve them. When we returned there were nine others and six pick-‘em-ups ready to roll.

This second ranch was a 20-mile drive from town, again in the foothills amongst oaks and other inedible vegetation. Parking was as usual, behind normally locked gates – and yes: I’m building a memory bank of combinations (he he) – with access granted to our posse beforehand.

We scrambled with the gear up, and as I was about to don my helmet this gal comes up on a quad and has an exchange with one of our leaders, in which she says “…I don’t give a f&%$ what @#*!” and we all pause, put on hold our gearing up whilst the leaders go find our sponsor to iron out his neighbor’s frustration at our plans.

The interlude allow for socializing with some of the club members I haven’t met before. One fellow said he’s recovering from a broken (?) back and spent spring break on his mom’s couch. Then pulling up his jersey to prove (make?) a point, he turned around and pointed to the lump on his spine as I experience vertigo. And then there’s this other who broke his ankle a year ago, never sought professional help; I see he had this limp as he moved about. Modern day cowboys? Yeah, I’m one of the last to seek a physician, but jeeze!

With much discussion an alternate no-as-close-to-her-property-bypass was agreed to and we resumed with our intent for the day. Some of the guys packed stakes; others yellow tape, staplers, hammers, arrows and wrong-way signage. Some of us without backpacks snapped handy plastic clips with surveyor’s tape to our front bake lines; the clips make it a breeze for attaching to tree branches to mark the trails. The barrier tape, arrows and wrong-way signs were provided by Moose Racing (Parts Unlimited) - a kind move on their part, as last year there was a late-minute scramble to Kinko’s!

I took my usual duties of performing sweep whiles all others sped off into the billowing dust clouds. We’d all come to a halt at trail/road splits, and inserted the stakes into the rigid soil; it was such a dry spring that doing so stake driving became an extra effort, even for the large fellows (us skinny guys stuck to ribboning). One of the steel hammers’ head eventually broke off via over-zealous effort, leaving the one and only wooden hammer for the rest of the day.

This ranch was mostly two track and awfully scenic, about 10 miles end to end. There was one long and dry sand wash - a welcome challenge/change compared to the hard pack hills. Reentered the wash at the north end of the property, there was discussion about vittles – these big boys had built up quite an appetite in the course of a few hours. As it turned out no one had brought their credit cards, therefore one returned to the staging area for retrieval, and I was contemplating calling it a day as our work was by in large done but discovered the entry gate was keyed (no combination) and required escort to exit; not wanting to burden the group we therefore we hung with them for the full duration. As we were waiting for the credit card arrival, one of the leaders could not restart his bike. I gave him a fresh plug, to no avail. While contemplating his next step he tightened a kickstarter bolt and it spun off! This poor feller wasn’t going anywhere soon. To his relief one of the ranch hands came by and we loaded his wounded horse for a ride into town: one down, eight to go.

Once the credit card arrived we sped off of the property through a gate onto Highway 299, then road raced one mile or so into Creston, Population ~300. The town was a whole block long. We parked near the railing although none of us had reigns on our horses to wrap on the horizontal bar. I didn’t even get the name of the establishment but it was an old bar that allowed minors; this would be r2s’ first (and maybe last? Ha!) This place reminds me of Slash-X, for those of you from SoCal, only cozier, if that word fits.

The chief bar maid rolled her eyes but welcomed the newfound business which just walked in. We rearranged the tables to allow for all of us at one sitting, and pushed aside the burlap (!) drapes. There were brandings burned into the overhead wood paneling from many of the local ranches. Then the request for beverages came; not a few pitchers, good to the last drop (more on that later). As the trays of freedom fries and onion rings arrived all the shouted discussions and razzing suddenly disappeared. We each had a plate on top of the appetizers; r2s and I each had the BBQ beef special of the day. Fhe feeding frenzy didn’t stop until all of the repeatedly replenished pitchers ran dry – good to the last drop as our leader snatched up my half-filled glass and downed it on our way out (what cooties?) The credit-card carrier said something about ~$200 for the chow and liquids as we exited.

One of the bikes wouldn't start - turns out it was out of fuel. Two down, seven to go.

With replenished fluids the crew sped off to the ranch/mine we worked on last weekend; there wasn’t much justification, when asked, other than they wanted to check it out again. Turns out it was just another mile up the road, and even dustier.

The real fun – and a big benefit from/exchange for all the work beforehand - began upon reentering the ranch and riding the course backwards – no stopping, uninhibited - just plain fun as the group became spaced out relative to the varying degrees of skill; fine with me with the dry conditions. You could full-lock slide many a turn, but I refrained and stayed off of the main to conserve fuel – we were approaching the 35-mile mark after all. We did come upon one who ran out of fuel, and another offered to tow him in; yeah: humpback towed in ankle cracker. If it weren’t for the time change we’d have been loading up in darkness.

And with that comes an end to the latest adventure. Next weekend: the event itself.


Posted by: MelloYello

Great report, John.:thumb: I missed the first one. Quite a bit of humor interspersed with your usual detailed ramblings. I have a question, though. How do you, in your advanced age, manage to remember all the little details?

Did anyone have the freedom onion soup? Hear it's pretty good.


Posted by: NVR FNSH

Brings back memories......

Brian


Posted by: placelast

Quote:
Originally Posted by MelloYello
How do you, in your advanced age, manage to remember all the little details?

Did anyone have the freedom onion soup? Hear it's pretty good.


Being married, the brain is challenged/exercised continuously, to its limit, ie: "I didn't say that; this is what I said..." "...but this is what you [i]thought[i]..."

No soup, though they were busy with other liquids.



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