1st Installment of 3 Weekends, here:
Yeah, I signed up again to give them a hand, this time bring along a son (Reluctant2stroker; hereafter r2s).
When I contacted the day’s trail leader, Kenny, he said we weren’t going to be leaving town until 3pm! Now I’m thinking ahead: the sun would be going down as we would be trail marking. So we met up with the crew at the on-campus shed at 2. Others were arriving every 10 minutes or thereabouts.
When I walked into the shed – it was full of club-member’s bikes - one had its back wheel off with the owner, Mike, putting on a new tire. The new rubber stands at a start contrast against the all the other bikes with bald tires; one had absolutely no center knobs! And the owner proud of it! Otherwise all the bikes were as usual newer than mine however looked far from it; you’d think these young guys would do some washing and basic upkeep.
The owner of the new tire had never ridden his new-to-him CR, and he was looking forward to getting out today; said he drove to L.A. to buy it last weekend. Turns out he was the owner of last year’s wadded-up RMX, which was destroyed when a pickup pulled out in front of him during last years Baja ride. Upon seeing it back then I felt so sorry for him that I started to set aside a collection of parts, but he doesn’t need them now. When asked if he got hurt in the collision he said some medical term I cannot remember as we were lining up his CR’s wheel and reinserted the axle. As he tightened the nut I mentioned he is missing the $5 Honda 17mm washer he could get at the John Deere dealer for $.25, but he said it didn’t come with one so one may not be needed after all.
Another fellow, Josh (aka Bean – yes, I made sure to always be upwind), had bought and installed a new chain (imagine that), and had asked opinions as to whether it was snug enough. Well, duh: having no slop convinced me it needed attention. As I took a closer look and offered my assistance, seeing his swing arm buffer razor thin: “Say bud: you ought to get another one of these.” “They are so expensive.” “UFO has them for less than $20.” “Oh.” At that point I didn’t bother to check the sprockets, as he explained how he got a years worth of riding – 1500 miles – at this spring’s Baja ride. Oh well.
After an hour of this we regrouped at the gas station whilst they filled up with petrol and body fuel, and we were then on the road by 3, up the grade and to a remote canyon on some private property 15 miles from town. The property belonged to a mining company but no one I asked knew what was being mined. Maybe it doesn’t matter but I wanted to know. Where we parked was some 4 miles away among backwoods ranches, and you couldn’t see the mining operation from there.
All nine of us geared up and headed up the rolling hills covered with oaks amongst occasional ponds. I did the smart thing by staying back with my son to let the fast guys go at although as a consequence ate buckets of dust like never before; it was so thick we hung way back, and that fit in with our skill level. We met a few others at the first uphill where it was so odd feeling the front and back ends sliding out like being on ice. The soil was so dry that there was a loose layer on top with a hard pack under the few inches of the loose stuff. Then there were the ruts, which acted like magnets. Most of us unfortunates made it up on the second try with one eventually turning back.
Once on the ridge some the mining operation could be seen, and Atascadero somewhere off in the distance, so they said. The leader took us on the difficult trail section (there’s an easy split - more on that later) with several off-camber turns and one nasty downhill – another rider turns back. It was a strange sensation with the front and rear tires going everywhere; someone’s going to get hurt on this stuff.
I came upon r2s at the bottom of the downhill, tucked into a semi-fetal position. Figuring he was really hurting, I slowly got him on his back to remove his helmet and ask questions, of which the answers were slow in coming. One of the guys from the group in front came back to check and the sweeper came upon us while r2s slowly gained his composure. As he explained it to me he was carrying too much downhill speed then lost it, running into a few large rocks. As a consequence he took some hits to the thigh and hip, the odo case was cracked, as was the throttle-adjusting bolt. He was ready to go in five minutes and made it up the following uphill and down the next rutted downhill just dandy. I don’t think the event riders are going to like this section, and the club members should come back to remove the rocks and fill in the ruts. Sad thing is this area is the last part of the run, and the riders would sure not want this following lunch stop/rest.
The last part of the trail was rather easy, with one water crossing – surprising with how little rain came this spring. We recollected all together at the mining area; clean operation! Clean, and everything appeared in its place. The leader then took us to the gravel pit entrance/course exit, and explained how to get out back to town from there.
Now on our way back everyone sped up and one fellow, Aaron on the CRF, was doing wheelie after wheelie. On one he went too far and next thing we knew he was rag dolling along the pavement with his CRF spinning on its side, leading him down the road. When we came up to him he was sitting up but cognizant, and I went over to upright his 450. Say, this thing is light for such a big bike. A good look at his eyes revealed he was okay, but he sure cursed up a small storm when he found his new leathers had a gaping hole below his left cheek; strange how the liner was not torn. Fox makes good liners! The left-hand grip was torn and maybe a ¼” of material ground down, and the axle bolt had some gouges – but other than that it came through quite well so it seemed. Regrouping with the others provided ample story telling.
When we came to the point of climbing the up second previous downhill. I offered to take it up for r2s while he hoofed it. I soon found out the best traction was at the base of the bushes to the left, and venturing back into the trail a rut sucked me in before the leveling; cresting was accomplished with some clutching of which he will have to master on this little 200 to be the master of it. On my 250 things got out of hand when an equal if not more amount of dig was found, launching me diagonally towards the right-hand side. Blup, blup, blup crossing over the ruts. Vowing to make it up I slid back into the last rut and restarted but dug a trench like the WR426 rider who went before me. Rocking up and back and then launching forward was rewarded by landing upon the crest just as the leaders were pounding in another stake and directional arrow. Back we then went to the easy/hard trail split to drive in more stakes and arrows.
The leader then took us back down to the mine via the easy loop, and when we got to the graded portion it became quite dusty and dangerous in the back. Blah. Nose nugget breeding ground. We did not place any stakes and arrows as the leader decided it was best to leave that to the morning of the event before the first riders come through, so as to not disrupt the mining operations.
We headed back without mishap and loaded up, saying our farewells for the day. The leader was kind enough to invite us for dinner but I had to refuse to get home before dark.
They said the two other ranches, slated for arrowing and ribboning next weekend, will be an easier ride.
Yeah, I signed up again to give them a hand, this time bring along a son (Reluctant2stroker; hereafter r2s).
When I contacted the day’s trail leader, Kenny, he said we weren’t going to be leaving town until 3pm! Now I’m thinking ahead: the sun would be going down as we would be trail marking. So we met up with the crew at the on-campus shed at 2. Others were arriving every 10 minutes or thereabouts.
When I walked into the shed – it was full of club-member’s bikes - one had its back wheel off with the owner, Mike, putting on a new tire. The new rubber stands at a start contrast against the all the other bikes with bald tires; one had absolutely no center knobs! And the owner proud of it! Otherwise all the bikes were as usual newer than mine however looked far from it; you’d think these young guys would do some washing and basic upkeep.
The owner of the new tire had never ridden his new-to-him CR, and he was looking forward to getting out today; said he drove to L.A. to buy it last weekend. Turns out he was the owner of last year’s wadded-up RMX, which was destroyed when a pickup pulled out in front of him during last years Baja ride. Upon seeing it back then I felt so sorry for him that I started to set aside a collection of parts, but he doesn’t need them now. When asked if he got hurt in the collision he said some medical term I cannot remember as we were lining up his CR’s wheel and reinserted the axle. As he tightened the nut I mentioned he is missing the $5 Honda 17mm washer he could get at the John Deere dealer for $.25, but he said it didn’t come with one so one may not be needed after all.
Another fellow, Josh (aka Bean – yes, I made sure to always be upwind), had bought and installed a new chain (imagine that), and had asked opinions as to whether it was snug enough. Well, duh: having no slop convinced me it needed attention. As I took a closer look and offered my assistance, seeing his swing arm buffer razor thin: “Say bud: you ought to get another one of these.” “They are so expensive.” “UFO has them for less than $20.” “Oh.” At that point I didn’t bother to check the sprockets, as he explained how he got a years worth of riding – 1500 miles – at this spring’s Baja ride. Oh well.
After an hour of this we regrouped at the gas station whilst they filled up with petrol and body fuel, and we were then on the road by 3, up the grade and to a remote canyon on some private property 15 miles from town. The property belonged to a mining company but no one I asked knew what was being mined. Maybe it doesn’t matter but I wanted to know. Where we parked was some 4 miles away among backwoods ranches, and you couldn’t see the mining operation from there.
All nine of us geared up and headed up the rolling hills covered with oaks amongst occasional ponds. I did the smart thing by staying back with my son to let the fast guys go at although as a consequence ate buckets of dust like never before; it was so thick we hung way back, and that fit in with our skill level. We met a few others at the first uphill where it was so odd feeling the front and back ends sliding out like being on ice. The soil was so dry that there was a loose layer on top with a hard pack under the few inches of the loose stuff. Then there were the ruts, which acted like magnets. Most of us unfortunates made it up on the second try with one eventually turning back.
Once on the ridge some the mining operation could be seen, and Atascadero somewhere off in the distance, so they said. The leader took us on the difficult trail section (there’s an easy split - more on that later) with several off-camber turns and one nasty downhill – another rider turns back. It was a strange sensation with the front and rear tires going everywhere; someone’s going to get hurt on this stuff.
I came upon r2s at the bottom of the downhill, tucked into a semi-fetal position. Figuring he was really hurting, I slowly got him on his back to remove his helmet and ask questions, of which the answers were slow in coming. One of the guys from the group in front came back to check and the sweeper came upon us while r2s slowly gained his composure. As he explained it to me he was carrying too much downhill speed then lost it, running into a few large rocks. As a consequence he took some hits to the thigh and hip, the odo case was cracked, as was the throttle-adjusting bolt. He was ready to go in five minutes and made it up the following uphill and down the next rutted downhill just dandy. I don’t think the event riders are going to like this section, and the club members should come back to remove the rocks and fill in the ruts. Sad thing is this area is the last part of the run, and the riders would sure not want this following lunch stop/rest.
The last part of the trail was rather easy, with one water crossing – surprising with how little rain came this spring. We recollected all together at the mining area; clean operation! Clean, and everything appeared in its place. The leader then took us to the gravel pit entrance/course exit, and explained how to get out back to town from there.
Now on our way back everyone sped up and one fellow, Aaron on the CRF, was doing wheelie after wheelie. On one he went too far and next thing we knew he was rag dolling along the pavement with his CRF spinning on its side, leading him down the road. When we came up to him he was sitting up but cognizant, and I went over to upright his 450. Say, this thing is light for such a big bike. A good look at his eyes revealed he was okay, but he sure cursed up a small storm when he found his new leathers had a gaping hole below his left cheek; strange how the liner was not torn. Fox makes good liners! The left-hand grip was torn and maybe a ¼” of material ground down, and the axle bolt had some gouges – but other than that it came through quite well so it seemed. Regrouping with the others provided ample story telling.
When we came to the point of climbing the up second previous downhill. I offered to take it up for r2s while he hoofed it. I soon found out the best traction was at the base of the bushes to the left, and venturing back into the trail a rut sucked me in before the leveling; cresting was accomplished with some clutching of which he will have to master on this little 200 to be the master of it. On my 250 things got out of hand when an equal if not more amount of dig was found, launching me diagonally towards the right-hand side. Blup, blup, blup crossing over the ruts. Vowing to make it up I slid back into the last rut and restarted but dug a trench like the WR426 rider who went before me. Rocking up and back and then launching forward was rewarded by landing upon the crest just as the leaders were pounding in another stake and directional arrow. Back we then went to the easy/hard trail split to drive in more stakes and arrows.
The leader then took us back down to the mine via the easy loop, and when we got to the graded portion it became quite dusty and dangerous in the back. Blah. Nose nugget breeding ground. We did not place any stakes and arrows as the leader decided it was best to leave that to the morning of the event before the first riders come through, so as to not disrupt the mining operations.
We headed back without mishap and loaded up, saying our farewells for the day. The leader was kind enough to invite us for dinner but I had to refuse to get home before dark.
They said the two other ranches, slated for arrowing and ribboning next weekend, will be an easier ride.