My usual Friday work day is a half day-er, and the time was well used to do some last minute new-to-me bike preparations, and load up. There was more I wanted to do for the bike but it was close enough for government work, and getting there before dark was more pressing.
At 2:30pm I said goodbye to my wife and started off on this first leg to one of the shops on the way in Bakersfield to purchase # plate backgrounds, mainly to preserve the plastic rather than for appearances as I have a tendency to scrape gravel on them. Imagine that. MapQuest did me wrong as the shop was on the other side of the freeway than shown(?!) which was discovered after stopping twice for directions; made it ½ hour before the shop closed, and asked if I could plug in my heat gun, only to find the ambient 105-degree temp. in this late afternoon adequate to make coffee even in the shade! Oh: and I had to stop at Trader Joes for some fermented grape juice; bottles of the better vintages were forgotten at home, along with my perfect pillow.
Gasoline prices are always more favorable as it is naturally occurring in this county of California, along with cotton, alfalfa, and, did I mention the heat? But don’t take that wrongly as I was once a valley dweller, and the best produce in the country is sourced here, and you know I mean that, being a farm boy myself.
The rest of my 240-mile journey to the highlands was uneventful other than the usual scenic formations of Red Rock Canyon, beyond Jawbone, and Cantil, the place of my second and final interview with that consumer products company which has a symbol of a wing, usually red, and whose name starts with an “H” and ends with an “A” and has “OND” sandwiched in between the aforementioned alpha characters.
Nine-Mile Canyon was traffic-free at this hour, though there was one casualty: that being a Chevy, whilst pulling a trailer, had a damaged radiator. Another vehicle, with the distressed party, accompanied them in their wait for a new radiator, on its way, so they said, and therefore I continued on.
The sun had already set by the time Fish Creek Camp was reached, and circling around all the sites did not reveal MrLuckey’s (Eddie) pickup and trailer – hmmm…seeing most spots were taken, perhaps he moved on? As I turned to head further west to the other campgrounds, I spotted a pie-plate with “DRN – TROY” as in Troy Campground, written on it. Ah! So a little more up the road to discover regular Troy Campground is closed for work (it’s been years – enough already), and spot another pie plate on the overflow-side of the road with DRN on it. As I meandered down the dirt road there’s a bend and Eddie comes out to welcome me. Good to see ya! He directs me to/suggests I use the tent-side of our wagon circle, adjacent to Kelsorat (Scott). They helped me setup as darkness was quickly approaching, and Scott offered up some foodstuff, and it escapes me what it was nonetheless you know it would have been good coming from his hands.
As we later gathered around the fire, we wondered if Quick Mick and Getmetoca (Natalie) would find us, though they did come trough in spite of an excursion into Barstow. Then TheEel (Eric), and MXBundy showed a short bit later with his fine wife & kids in tow. Then Trailjunkie (Chris). Things got rather blurry for me, as it was way, way past my bedtime. For that reason I do not remember when Thumbs (Tony ) and Julie arrived. Speaking of beddie-bye, it was shocking to crawl into my sleeping bag at the late hour of 2:30am, and they were still going around the fire.
Did anyone else notice how cold it got at night? Yet it was pleasantly perfect during the day at our 8k’ campsite. Kav, who showed up Saturday to spend the night, said it got down to 7 deg. C, or 45 deg. F, for us who may be conversion challenged.
Next morning I couldn’t sleep past my normal early waking hour and therefore got up to take a short hike on the huge rock pile nearby – a great place for the kids to play, supervised, of course. There were lichen in orange, green/yellow, black, and gray spread across the granite and other big stones. One stone was fashioned as an overhead table with pillars on the left and right. The tallest spot afforded a view looking down on smaller adjacent surrounding pines.
As I finished off breakfast, the three of us present having the Knucklehead gene (Eel, Kelso, and yours truly) brainstormed our morning loop, which we were to do on our own as the other campers had not yet risen from their rest. We quietly left camp going north on Beach Ridge, connected to Albanita, and (regular) Beach Trails, which ends at Oso Meadows. Lots of water and wildflowers this year! Then we headed east on Blackrock. At one trail break Eel wanted to try my new ride, and it was my first time on his Gas Gas, with a tall seat to beat the band – I liked it in the way it provides a more commanding position. At Albanita Trail we switched back and headed towards camp again going the opposite way on Beach Ridge for a total of just under 40-miles of morning single track. But before arriving from this last leg I remembered a spot where a Husaberg went over the side a few years ago, and at that time Jr. and I helped the owner get his bike back up and on the trail; now it was my turn when we came upon Mick and Natalie coming from camp, and after a brief chat, as opposing wagons lined up on a narrow mountain pass, they leaned over and I went on by (thank you!) – then in error I grabbed too much throttle and placed my bike precariously on the trail’s edge (there was a slight turn and I was going straight), and not wanting to suffer the same fate as that ‘berg owner, I dismounted and pushed my new baby towards the uphill side whilst I sacrificed myself to the drop off, and did a subsequent roll/flip into down-slope bushes – what an act that must have been to behold. They helped me remount and we went our ways.
Many others had showed while we were away: 2Strok4fun (Chris), his lovely wife and sons; Scar Tissue (Tim) solo this year; 426pilot & family; BigShafft & family; Thumbs (Tony) and the best aunt anyone would want (Julie) – did I miss anyone? Oh: Kav came too but I cannot remember when; in any event we have a good-sized group.
I decided to pass on the afternoon loop as my lack of sleep caught up with me, and Mick needed a bike to make the ride anyways. It wasn’t until the evening when viewing the DirtWeek video whereupon it’s revealed to me he’s quite the rider – able to take a bike to its limit! - verified by the black streaks on the rear fender underside. Ouch. Though I’m truly responsible for that, having a new lighter-than-stock rear spring for my featherweight frame, besides the previous owner installation of a tall and rather oversized tire, or tyre as Mick would say it.
There was a night ride planned, yet it never materialized, as there was too much socializing to do and little enthusiasm due to the long daytime loops.
Chris had chicken going in his smoker, and Bundy tri tip on a Weber; between the two I was able graze uptown relative my own bachelor-like cuisine, which never made it out of the can - I am happy.
Next morning a more complete Knucklehead Crew formed with Chris, Tim and I trucking to the westward trail head; Eric and Scott took Mahogany, Rattlesnake and Beach Trails to our rendezvous point, Bonita Meadow. And it was sure “bonita”; muy bonita this time of year with magenta-colored flowers. 426pilot (John) and Big Schaffe (Ryan?) were going to try to meet up with us later for our second loop out of Bonita.
Eric was low on coolant so we refilled with the melted ice water found at the bottom of his ice chest before heading out on our first collective loop of this fine morning. We went up Boone Mdw, Trout Creek (outrageous views of the creek, flowing over rocks and between trees). Scott decided to head back as he needed to get home, so we said our goodbyes, then went up Sherman Pass Trail; a brief rest at the overlook afforded a view of Mt. Whitney from a southwest angle. After some small chat with other dirt and road bikers, we continued south on Cannel Trail and got to see some of the best wildflower shows in the various meadows, and the trail was just as good with multiple creek crossings and fewer whoops than elsewhere. One short section contained many rocks, though nothing troubling. And one of the meadows had stripes of purple flowers from one end to the other. The trail ended at a campground where it turned into a dirt road, with others converging. There were many camping there, and at one site, a volleyball net was not only set up but being used by those in attendance as we passed by. Friendly folks abound, many with bikes themselves. We cooled off by dipping our heads in the creek while munching on dates and almonds.
A ranger-pickup passed through, and they passed out maps to those asking like our crew. We concluded to continue on further would not produce like beauty as the road lost elevation, moreover a dual-sport ride not to our particular liking. Eel was having odd reservations about returning the same way, even though it was the only one back; strange, as he is a competent rider - it did not make sense why he thought thus.
Backtracking to Trout Creek, we hung a left to loop around Bonita Mdw. I offered Chris my new ride, which allowed me to try out the cheater bike firsthand and settle the source of his winning ways once and for all. Well, this bike of his certainly plays a part, being setup thus with the Rekluse autoclutch, and trials tire, along with his savvy jetting and riding skills, so the secret is out: it’s a combining factor of all the aforementioned – some have all the tools, and know how to use them, I suppose.
After a brief minute of railing left-right-left-right through trees, we arrive back at the pickup. And amazingly, John and Ryan(?) showed shortly thereafter. We took the opportunity to eat lunch (thanks for the chicken, Chris) and refill Eel’s radiator.
We began backtracking and then took the Schaefer Trail spur towards Stony Meadow. Eric’s bike was smoking profusely, and I suggested he return back to the truck and wait for us as he may have lost a head gasket. Schaefer Trail beyond Trout Creek Trail had seen little use thus far this season. The Dome Wilderness fire from years ago had allowed the undergrowth of lupine to reach handlebar height, and was quite dense. Chris became belly-impaled by a wayward branch and was having some pain; I told him if he wanted to head back, let me know and I would accompany him. Before Schaefer Trail’s end we branched off down Cedar Canyon Trail, with hopes of eventually going north on Rincon Trail all the way to the end near the Golden Trout Wilderness, but today it was not to be, as this downhill run had not seen any maintenance in what looked like years, and was making demands upon us like no other thus far with many a downed timber to bypass. At one small wet and muddy creek crossing, there were short but steep rock faces on both the in and out sides, with a downed log thrown in to make passage difficult. John, Ryan(?), and Chris cleaned it, and it was my turn – no problem, I thought. On the far side my back tire kicked out, and my ride and slapped the flat uphill rock on its left side. “OOOoooohhh” says the spectators; and with a restart and pushing help, we made it up the other side only to find my shift lever (or gear selector, as Mick would have it) bent forward. I had packed in another in my fanny pack (again, for Mick: bum bag); this practice of carrying a spare came from having lost another/learned from my experiences at Clear Creek. I proceeded to replace it while Tim, John and Ryan(?) continued downward further in a gung-ho fashion; Chris and I were to head back after the shifter replacement.
As we were heading back up I was having balance difficulties with the switchbacks and concluded I had lost my confidence – good we were going returning to cut my losses. Chris was right with me and it was encouraging to see he was always right there on my tail. We waited at the last trail branch for Tim to return up, which he did a few minutes later. He said at the first log-heave after we separated he decided to turn back, as the trail was getting more and more gnarly with the loss of elevation. Ryan(?) showed a brief time later, along with John. We then resumed our return, me doing sweep.
We stopped at what appeared to be a tree where the top had been hit by lightning; the upper tip on the forest floor burning. Chris had hiked down to put out the flame, and Ryan(?) rode his bike down to roost soil for the same purpose. Between the two they had pretty much put it out.
We found Eric back at the pickup and had used the time by employing his social skills in making some wimmin friends during our absence - not one but two! Now there ya go, fellow, being the handsome Canadian-Mountie look-alike he is. Fine as they were, I’d say the gals back at camp rate higher on the scale – not to diminish Eric’s choice of conversation, nor these ladies in particular – just an observation on my part, and to fill you all in on how hot our ladies are.
We load up Eric’s dead horse while thereafter he rides Chris’ back to camp. He never showed back at camp; odd and that had us concerned. Turns out he got a flat but a mile or two away from our last sightings, but we left before he made his way back to our last place of contact at Bonita Meadow. Chris later got word at camp via John and Ryan(?), and returned to pick him up.
The un-suiting progress was rather slow but I eventually made it to the camp shower setup on the far perimeter. Whoever set this up: thanks! I like the discrete and privacy curtain. As it would be, some kids happened to go rock climbing nearby, perhaps unaware of my presence, or maybe they were but thought nothing of it – good I was in my swim trunks. In any event: no harm done as I remained in my trunks for the duration of my showering procedure, brought along on this trip for this very reason; and they got to climb rocks and while I showered modestly.
The folks were again cooking up a storm with Bundy doing steaks (thanks! I forgive you for changing/spilling CRF oil on my step stool), Kav deep-frying a turkey (thanks for the matches, friend; and thanks for my first-ever deep-fried turkey experience – it was delicious!) and the gals were doing all the fixins’. I inadvertently pulled a rude one by assuming Kim’s (Chris’ wife) wine cup she had placed on my table was mine! So sorry gal – that was quite kind of you to let me have it but between the day’s trailing and conversation with Mick, that was still awfully assuming of me me.
That Mick guy is quite the bloke, and kept me entertained all of dinner; my only regret is between the DirtWeek videos and me not being an night person I had to cut the conversation relatively short and call it a night – but I certainly want to pick it up again where we left off, eh mate? I believe it was when you were driving your $100 motorcar in the Vancouver snowstorm.
Since this was my last SoCA outing (I have a job transfer/promotion and will be moving in two weeks) and was planning to leave no later than 7am Monday, I made my way around camp to say goodbye to my friends; some of it was rather difficult to do as there were some fond memories built – good times surely had, and you all will be missed and certainly not forgotten – thanks!
At 2:30pm I said goodbye to my wife and started off on this first leg to one of the shops on the way in Bakersfield to purchase # plate backgrounds, mainly to preserve the plastic rather than for appearances as I have a tendency to scrape gravel on them. Imagine that. MapQuest did me wrong as the shop was on the other side of the freeway than shown(?!) which was discovered after stopping twice for directions; made it ½ hour before the shop closed, and asked if I could plug in my heat gun, only to find the ambient 105-degree temp. in this late afternoon adequate to make coffee even in the shade! Oh: and I had to stop at Trader Joes for some fermented grape juice; bottles of the better vintages were forgotten at home, along with my perfect pillow.
Gasoline prices are always more favorable as it is naturally occurring in this county of California, along with cotton, alfalfa, and, did I mention the heat? But don’t take that wrongly as I was once a valley dweller, and the best produce in the country is sourced here, and you know I mean that, being a farm boy myself.
The rest of my 240-mile journey to the highlands was uneventful other than the usual scenic formations of Red Rock Canyon, beyond Jawbone, and Cantil, the place of my second and final interview with that consumer products company which has a symbol of a wing, usually red, and whose name starts with an “H” and ends with an “A” and has “OND” sandwiched in between the aforementioned alpha characters.
Nine-Mile Canyon was traffic-free at this hour, though there was one casualty: that being a Chevy, whilst pulling a trailer, had a damaged radiator. Another vehicle, with the distressed party, accompanied them in their wait for a new radiator, on its way, so they said, and therefore I continued on.
The sun had already set by the time Fish Creek Camp was reached, and circling around all the sites did not reveal MrLuckey’s (Eddie) pickup and trailer – hmmm…seeing most spots were taken, perhaps he moved on? As I turned to head further west to the other campgrounds, I spotted a pie-plate with “DRN – TROY” as in Troy Campground, written on it. Ah! So a little more up the road to discover regular Troy Campground is closed for work (it’s been years – enough already), and spot another pie plate on the overflow-side of the road with DRN on it. As I meandered down the dirt road there’s a bend and Eddie comes out to welcome me. Good to see ya! He directs me to/suggests I use the tent-side of our wagon circle, adjacent to Kelsorat (Scott). They helped me setup as darkness was quickly approaching, and Scott offered up some foodstuff, and it escapes me what it was nonetheless you know it would have been good coming from his hands.
As we later gathered around the fire, we wondered if Quick Mick and Getmetoca (Natalie) would find us, though they did come trough in spite of an excursion into Barstow. Then TheEel (Eric), and MXBundy showed a short bit later with his fine wife & kids in tow. Then Trailjunkie (Chris). Things got rather blurry for me, as it was way, way past my bedtime. For that reason I do not remember when Thumbs (Tony ) and Julie arrived. Speaking of beddie-bye, it was shocking to crawl into my sleeping bag at the late hour of 2:30am, and they were still going around the fire.
Did anyone else notice how cold it got at night? Yet it was pleasantly perfect during the day at our 8k’ campsite. Kav, who showed up Saturday to spend the night, said it got down to 7 deg. C, or 45 deg. F, for us who may be conversion challenged.
Next morning I couldn’t sleep past my normal early waking hour and therefore got up to take a short hike on the huge rock pile nearby – a great place for the kids to play, supervised, of course. There were lichen in orange, green/yellow, black, and gray spread across the granite and other big stones. One stone was fashioned as an overhead table with pillars on the left and right. The tallest spot afforded a view looking down on smaller adjacent surrounding pines.
As I finished off breakfast, the three of us present having the Knucklehead gene (Eel, Kelso, and yours truly) brainstormed our morning loop, which we were to do on our own as the other campers had not yet risen from their rest. We quietly left camp going north on Beach Ridge, connected to Albanita, and (regular) Beach Trails, which ends at Oso Meadows. Lots of water and wildflowers this year! Then we headed east on Blackrock. At one trail break Eel wanted to try my new ride, and it was my first time on his Gas Gas, with a tall seat to beat the band – I liked it in the way it provides a more commanding position. At Albanita Trail we switched back and headed towards camp again going the opposite way on Beach Ridge for a total of just under 40-miles of morning single track. But before arriving from this last leg I remembered a spot where a Husaberg went over the side a few years ago, and at that time Jr. and I helped the owner get his bike back up and on the trail; now it was my turn when we came upon Mick and Natalie coming from camp, and after a brief chat, as opposing wagons lined up on a narrow mountain pass, they leaned over and I went on by (thank you!) – then in error I grabbed too much throttle and placed my bike precariously on the trail’s edge (there was a slight turn and I was going straight), and not wanting to suffer the same fate as that ‘berg owner, I dismounted and pushed my new baby towards the uphill side whilst I sacrificed myself to the drop off, and did a subsequent roll/flip into down-slope bushes – what an act that must have been to behold. They helped me remount and we went our ways.
Many others had showed while we were away: 2Strok4fun (Chris), his lovely wife and sons; Scar Tissue (Tim) solo this year; 426pilot & family; BigShafft & family; Thumbs (Tony) and the best aunt anyone would want (Julie) – did I miss anyone? Oh: Kav came too but I cannot remember when; in any event we have a good-sized group.
I decided to pass on the afternoon loop as my lack of sleep caught up with me, and Mick needed a bike to make the ride anyways. It wasn’t until the evening when viewing the DirtWeek video whereupon it’s revealed to me he’s quite the rider – able to take a bike to its limit! - verified by the black streaks on the rear fender underside. Ouch. Though I’m truly responsible for that, having a new lighter-than-stock rear spring for my featherweight frame, besides the previous owner installation of a tall and rather oversized tire, or tyre as Mick would say it.
There was a night ride planned, yet it never materialized, as there was too much socializing to do and little enthusiasm due to the long daytime loops.
Chris had chicken going in his smoker, and Bundy tri tip on a Weber; between the two I was able graze uptown relative my own bachelor-like cuisine, which never made it out of the can - I am happy.
Next morning a more complete Knucklehead Crew formed with Chris, Tim and I trucking to the westward trail head; Eric and Scott took Mahogany, Rattlesnake and Beach Trails to our rendezvous point, Bonita Meadow. And it was sure “bonita”; muy bonita this time of year with magenta-colored flowers. 426pilot (John) and Big Schaffe (Ryan?) were going to try to meet up with us later for our second loop out of Bonita.
Eric was low on coolant so we refilled with the melted ice water found at the bottom of his ice chest before heading out on our first collective loop of this fine morning. We went up Boone Mdw, Trout Creek (outrageous views of the creek, flowing over rocks and between trees). Scott decided to head back as he needed to get home, so we said our goodbyes, then went up Sherman Pass Trail; a brief rest at the overlook afforded a view of Mt. Whitney from a southwest angle. After some small chat with other dirt and road bikers, we continued south on Cannel Trail and got to see some of the best wildflower shows in the various meadows, and the trail was just as good with multiple creek crossings and fewer whoops than elsewhere. One short section contained many rocks, though nothing troubling. And one of the meadows had stripes of purple flowers from one end to the other. The trail ended at a campground where it turned into a dirt road, with others converging. There were many camping there, and at one site, a volleyball net was not only set up but being used by those in attendance as we passed by. Friendly folks abound, many with bikes themselves. We cooled off by dipping our heads in the creek while munching on dates and almonds.
A ranger-pickup passed through, and they passed out maps to those asking like our crew. We concluded to continue on further would not produce like beauty as the road lost elevation, moreover a dual-sport ride not to our particular liking. Eel was having odd reservations about returning the same way, even though it was the only one back; strange, as he is a competent rider - it did not make sense why he thought thus.
Backtracking to Trout Creek, we hung a left to loop around Bonita Mdw. I offered Chris my new ride, which allowed me to try out the cheater bike firsthand and settle the source of his winning ways once and for all. Well, this bike of his certainly plays a part, being setup thus with the Rekluse autoclutch, and trials tire, along with his savvy jetting and riding skills, so the secret is out: it’s a combining factor of all the aforementioned – some have all the tools, and know how to use them, I suppose.
After a brief minute of railing left-right-left-right through trees, we arrive back at the pickup. And amazingly, John and Ryan(?) showed shortly thereafter. We took the opportunity to eat lunch (thanks for the chicken, Chris) and refill Eel’s radiator.
We began backtracking and then took the Schaefer Trail spur towards Stony Meadow. Eric’s bike was smoking profusely, and I suggested he return back to the truck and wait for us as he may have lost a head gasket. Schaefer Trail beyond Trout Creek Trail had seen little use thus far this season. The Dome Wilderness fire from years ago had allowed the undergrowth of lupine to reach handlebar height, and was quite dense. Chris became belly-impaled by a wayward branch and was having some pain; I told him if he wanted to head back, let me know and I would accompany him. Before Schaefer Trail’s end we branched off down Cedar Canyon Trail, with hopes of eventually going north on Rincon Trail all the way to the end near the Golden Trout Wilderness, but today it was not to be, as this downhill run had not seen any maintenance in what looked like years, and was making demands upon us like no other thus far with many a downed timber to bypass. At one small wet and muddy creek crossing, there were short but steep rock faces on both the in and out sides, with a downed log thrown in to make passage difficult. John, Ryan(?), and Chris cleaned it, and it was my turn – no problem, I thought. On the far side my back tire kicked out, and my ride and slapped the flat uphill rock on its left side. “OOOoooohhh” says the spectators; and with a restart and pushing help, we made it up the other side only to find my shift lever (or gear selector, as Mick would have it) bent forward. I had packed in another in my fanny pack (again, for Mick: bum bag); this practice of carrying a spare came from having lost another/learned from my experiences at Clear Creek. I proceeded to replace it while Tim, John and Ryan(?) continued downward further in a gung-ho fashion; Chris and I were to head back after the shifter replacement.
As we were heading back up I was having balance difficulties with the switchbacks and concluded I had lost my confidence – good we were going returning to cut my losses. Chris was right with me and it was encouraging to see he was always right there on my tail. We waited at the last trail branch for Tim to return up, which he did a few minutes later. He said at the first log-heave after we separated he decided to turn back, as the trail was getting more and more gnarly with the loss of elevation. Ryan(?) showed a brief time later, along with John. We then resumed our return, me doing sweep.
We stopped at what appeared to be a tree where the top had been hit by lightning; the upper tip on the forest floor burning. Chris had hiked down to put out the flame, and Ryan(?) rode his bike down to roost soil for the same purpose. Between the two they had pretty much put it out.
We found Eric back at the pickup and had used the time by employing his social skills in making some wimmin friends during our absence - not one but two! Now there ya go, fellow, being the handsome Canadian-Mountie look-alike he is. Fine as they were, I’d say the gals back at camp rate higher on the scale – not to diminish Eric’s choice of conversation, nor these ladies in particular – just an observation on my part, and to fill you all in on how hot our ladies are.
We load up Eric’s dead horse while thereafter he rides Chris’ back to camp. He never showed back at camp; odd and that had us concerned. Turns out he got a flat but a mile or two away from our last sightings, but we left before he made his way back to our last place of contact at Bonita Meadow. Chris later got word at camp via John and Ryan(?), and returned to pick him up.
The un-suiting progress was rather slow but I eventually made it to the camp shower setup on the far perimeter. Whoever set this up: thanks! I like the discrete and privacy curtain. As it would be, some kids happened to go rock climbing nearby, perhaps unaware of my presence, or maybe they were but thought nothing of it – good I was in my swim trunks. In any event: no harm done as I remained in my trunks for the duration of my showering procedure, brought along on this trip for this very reason; and they got to climb rocks and while I showered modestly.
The folks were again cooking up a storm with Bundy doing steaks (thanks! I forgive you for changing/spilling CRF oil on my step stool), Kav deep-frying a turkey (thanks for the matches, friend; and thanks for my first-ever deep-fried turkey experience – it was delicious!) and the gals were doing all the fixins’. I inadvertently pulled a rude one by assuming Kim’s (Chris’ wife) wine cup she had placed on my table was mine! So sorry gal – that was quite kind of you to let me have it but between the day’s trailing and conversation with Mick, that was still awfully assuming of me me.
That Mick guy is quite the bloke, and kept me entertained all of dinner; my only regret is between the DirtWeek videos and me not being an night person I had to cut the conversation relatively short and call it a night – but I certainly want to pick it up again where we left off, eh mate? I believe it was when you were driving your $100 motorcar in the Vancouver snowstorm.
Since this was my last SoCA outing (I have a job transfer/promotion and will be moving in two weeks) and was planning to leave no later than 7am Monday, I made my way around camp to say goodbye to my friends; some of it was rather difficult to do as there were some fond memories built – good times surely had, and you all will be missed and certainly not forgotten – thanks!
