Wow - got more rain, and that means another ride. Packed up the bikes and let the usual DRNers know I was going, but didn't expect much of the Wrecking crew as they were doing a D37 enduro.
My youngest son didn't want to go, saying it was too close to the last weekend's trip, and my middle son bailed in morning (geesh! Dad pays for everything yet he wanted to sleep in), so I unloaded the green one and left with the yellow still loaded, hoping KX2fitty would make it afterall but for some reason he didn't, which left me to either find a blind date from those already there or do a simple dual-sport ride up and down the main road; I chose the latter.
The air was a crisp cold, to the point where it was definite enduro jacket time, with a baklava, neck warmer, and Windstopper gloves; I know it is not wise to dress for the parking lot, but with fireroad-type speeds, the wind-chill factor would be up there. And that's fine as the jacket is rarely getting and use.
The view from the valley to the left and right peaks displayed what appeared to be a light dusting of snow on the ridges, and sure enough that is what had occured, as I discovered, when the temptation was too great and I took a new-to me trail (31 or 41?). As the trail climbed and became tighter and tighter, the white stuff was on both sides (cool! just like a dream come true), and after a mile or three of climbing this razor-edge-top ridge, my senses returned and I turned around - I was alone afterall, and doing remote trails is foolish. On the way back down the front tire was sticking very well - you mud guys have to try the Dunlop 773 - even though the moist soil was adhering to the tread and packing between the forks and swingarm, such that while coasting downhill and paddling with outrigger legs (yes: I ride like a goon in mud and ruts) the bike came to a stop. I had to start the engine and goose it to regain downhill movement, which proves a near bald 773 rear can still propel! (A new one went on later in the day, back at the garage.)
Once back on the main road I resumed higher-gear progress to near the east-end of the valley. Turning around afforded some opportunities to ride in the parallel wash instead of the 4x4 road. Now the forest service doesn't want us riding in there but the signs are nowhere to be found this far up, so in I go. Plop! The wash's sand is wet, traction is great, although the overhanging branches slapping me every so often are just as wet; maybe moreso. After a few miles of this it became like someone poured a bucket of water on my lap! although the jacket kept my upper torso dry and warm, though all the wiggling in the wash to get under the many overhanging scrub oaks.
As I pulled out of the wash at the first USFS sign many miles later, my visor was dripping with water, and goggle lens-view distorted (four eyes, here). A few more fast whoops and I load it up for one of my shortest rides ever, yet just as refreshing - I am now ready for another week of work.
My youngest son didn't want to go, saying it was too close to the last weekend's trip, and my middle son bailed in morning (geesh! Dad pays for everything yet he wanted to sleep in), so I unloaded the green one and left with the yellow still loaded, hoping KX2fitty would make it afterall but for some reason he didn't, which left me to either find a blind date from those already there or do a simple dual-sport ride up and down the main road; I chose the latter.
The air was a crisp cold, to the point where it was definite enduro jacket time, with a baklava, neck warmer, and Windstopper gloves; I know it is not wise to dress for the parking lot, but with fireroad-type speeds, the wind-chill factor would be up there. And that's fine as the jacket is rarely getting and use.
The view from the valley to the left and right peaks displayed what appeared to be a light dusting of snow on the ridges, and sure enough that is what had occured, as I discovered, when the temptation was too great and I took a new-to me trail (31 or 41?). As the trail climbed and became tighter and tighter, the white stuff was on both sides (cool! just like a dream come true), and after a mile or three of climbing this razor-edge-top ridge, my senses returned and I turned around - I was alone afterall, and doing remote trails is foolish. On the way back down the front tire was sticking very well - you mud guys have to try the Dunlop 773 - even though the moist soil was adhering to the tread and packing between the forks and swingarm, such that while coasting downhill and paddling with outrigger legs (yes: I ride like a goon in mud and ruts) the bike came to a stop. I had to start the engine and goose it to regain downhill movement, which proves a near bald 773 rear can still propel! (A new one went on later in the day, back at the garage.)
Once back on the main road I resumed higher-gear progress to near the east-end of the valley. Turning around afforded some opportunities to ride in the parallel wash instead of the 4x4 road. Now the forest service doesn't want us riding in there but the signs are nowhere to be found this far up, so in I go. Plop! The wash's sand is wet, traction is great, although the overhanging branches slapping me every so often are just as wet; maybe moreso. After a few miles of this it became like someone poured a bucket of water on my lap! although the jacket kept my upper torso dry and warm, though all the wiggling in the wash to get under the many overhanging scrub oaks.
As I pulled out of the wash at the first USFS sign many miles later, my visor was dripping with water, and goggle lens-view distorted (four eyes, here). A few more fast whoops and I load it up for one of my shortest rides ever, yet just as refreshing - I am now ready for another week of work.
