Clear Creek Cliffhangings
Freemontguy (FG, 450 E/XC) had the day off and wanted to do a long loop, suggesting we might make it to the microwave towers. Jonala (J, XR250R), Ggoja (G, YZF250), my middle son R2S (KDX200) and I (RMX) met at Oak Flat to begin our journey.
The first remarkable situation for the day was when following FG through the first big trail water-pool. I didn’t get to see his line, and in choosing mine went wide; with the slickness of the lip my bike slid to of all places the deepest part, and with the speed there was a big splash and I was covered with muddy water, head-to-toe. Pulling away I could feel the coldness inching down my boots.
FG, being the lover of tight, twisty and overgrown trails he is, led us on the upcoming Quicksilver National trails. Nasty. Forget about plastic shine and pretty graphics – no more. The top of the bushes couldn’t have been more than eight feet either. No wonder you can’t see these trails from a distance.
Four miles out the spring for the tip of my IMS shift lever gives up the ghost; no shift up-um anymore – downie, yes; but no more up-um. A plastic tie did not last. Then it was safety wire. A few wraps of the latter and I was good to go for the entire day. Thanks FG and J.
On one narrow and rutted uphill, R2S stalled and couldn’t get over an embedded rock. I told him to work the clutch, sit down to weigh the spinning rear tire to pop over it all. Well, pop over he did, and stood the KDX straight up, breaking the rear fender and almost looping, but he didn’t get hurt. I told the group we had better break up and head back but they would have nothing of it.
I believe FG’s selection of trails was a bit much for R2S from the get go; nonetheless he hung in there. At least until we go to the first long and slick uphill. He went back down for a second try only to take a dead-end drainage and get stuck up tot the axle. I went down and nearby to park, and told him to hoof it up to the top.
I had to zigzag, lift, tug, and clutch the KDX to find any measure or resemblance of traction and get into the right position to get a run upward and into a higher gear. Heart pounding, and heavy breathing I finally get set straight. Once at the top I took a deserved break, while unbeknownst to me J had gone down do bring my bike up (thanks). As he stopped at the top he commented on how easy it was, so I suggested he stay on my horse for as long as he pleased, while R2S may have a better time on J’s XR (which he admires); I carried the KDX thereafter.
As we continued on the ridge then down into an old mining valley, we crossed a stream, then found another long and loose uphill. There was no way R2S was going to make it but at least he was willing to try. It ended up being another hoofer for him.
Once on top we decided to have lunch. Another group came through, and the last guy of that group became stuck in a rutted water pool. After several attempts at dislodging the stranger’s bike by hand, J brought out his rope for all of us we may be able to tug it out. Nope. Then one of the stranger’s buddies came back and in one-toe, lifted the KTM300 right up and out without so much as a grunt. It then started right up and they were on their merry way.
During this whole escapade, and our lunch break, FG’s 450 kept falling over, like 3x. Then G’s did as well.
Back on the enduro course we came upon one tricky uphill; it had a rutted path and some slight clearing just next on the right. All three in front of me stalled so I veered off to the right and surprisingly chugged right up, but I knew R2S wouldn’t so I parked once crested and hiked down. Another hiker for him and back to the bottom for me. J was at the bottom and we waited for others. It took me two or three tries. The first was stopped by three strangers straddled totally across the steep uphill paths without space for me to pass, so I was done on that attempt. Then on the second I crossed up and lost momentum, then flop the KDX over and lost ½ of the front fender, as I slammed into the bushes, which broke both our falls. On the third I finally cleared it all and reached the top exhausted. I could hear my wife’s voice “aren’t you getting too old for this stuff?” And at the time I would have agreed.
We had no desire to stop at the plane crash site, and kept soldiering on. R2S was having problems in the ruts, and I had to help him get started, and later take another steep rocky uphill for him. It was best to give the XR back to its rightful owner before significant damage.
FG continues on the enduro route and I told him we had better break off and head back to camp for sure this time.
As we headed off to find the main road I cressed a mount, only to stop and search for the others; seeing G in front, I stuck my foot out and found only air – down I went into the soil again. It must have looked comical.
We finally found the road; FG and G continued on and J, R2S and I took the road back to camp. The end of 30 miles, some awfully demanding, came to an end. Damage: two fenders, one sprained wrist and lower back, small bruse and when are we going again – NOT!
On the way home R2S thanked me for all the assistance, and I told him all things considered I’m glad he made it through.