It's been sloooooow @ work, so here's an old report from December '03:
Now that we’ve been getting some rain, my wife suggested Reluctant 2stroker (hereafter r2s: that’s his new handle; insists he’s a 4-strk guy, but will be on 2 so long as I’m paying) and I go for a trail ride; said she wanted to tag along in spite of my no-girls! policy. Hey; cut me some slack: it’s not I don’t want her around, but with the dust and sun and loud-piped YZWRCRF-somethings and quads doing donuts in the staging area, she quickly forgets why she sez “I’m not going again” – the last time will be her last time! Sooo…they loaded up the truck and they…arrived at Turkey Flats around noon-ish. The soil was perfectly damp; temps were in the low 60s. There were already a dozen pickups, and the ranger was passing thru, looking for stickers and forest passes.
r2s couldn’t fit his old boots any more; good I brought an extra-large pair (sz 11) for his growing boats. As we left camp my wife took note: he seemed like a foal, first on it’s feet – long-limbed and lanky. You see: it’s been three years since he’s been on a bike. However he had no problem keeping up with a mild trail pace.
The first few miles of trail changed from sandy to slick. On one particular hard-right-then-steep-uphill, he took it too wide, then overcorrected and high sided on the other. Meanwhile I stopped and waited ahead next to a puddle. As I was waiting and watching, a group of three riders passed; the last gave me a rude splash followed up with roost - not nice (jerk!) R2s was able to upright the KDX and asked I take it to the next leveling. Lesson #1: He needs to move his weight forward; the sticky, rubberized-grip seat cover doesn’t help one’s butt-scooting process. (I’ve since installed a less tacky cover.)
As we continued on the ridge, the mud and standing water increased the pucker factor for both of us. At each rest/recoup stop he wanted to soldier on, and that we did.
Some of the steeper trail sections had anti-erosion brick inlaid. There were deep ruts on either side from those who strayed from the straight and narrow, but neither of us veered off the course. And it’s good we didn’t, as there’d be a price to pay with much bulldogging.
At the far end of the area we took a break to take in the sights. California Valley lay to the east, and over the last of the coastal range-ridges would be the San Joaquin Valley. There was still lingering cloud cover from the passing storm front. And lookie there: the microwave tower off in the distance. Whilst we were admiring the scenery, a group of four riders stopped alongside, saying, “just what are those rubber (boot) thingies on your forks?” Seems like most modern machines do come with USD forks these days.
Before leaving our vantage point, r2s asks we take the easy way back – well, “sorry to say: this is the easy way!” He’d been doing quite well up to this point. On the way back he did round another pre-hill corner with too much speed; turns out there was mucho mud of the slick type at the base; water and ruts included. He managed to keep it upright, all the way into the bushes. Dang! But this time having dad take it to the top was not an acceptable option – he will have to ride smart and do it on his own, scooting forward on the seat. And that he did – lots of throttle and will, to where after reaching the peak he just kept on roosting/going.
Twenty mud-flinging miles later we arrived back at camp. Appetite had set in, so whilst loading the bikes and shredding our gear, we snacked and was ready in record time.
My wife said there weren’t the pit racers she’d experienced before, the sun stayed above the natural canopy the whole time, and with the moisture not a speck of airborne dust. She even got a close up view of a road-traversing tarantula on the back home.
________________________________________________________________________
A week later r2s asks for some more, and how could I refuse with another storm front coming through? This time it was just he and I.
Arriving earlier in the day afforded us a more casual approach, although I should have paid more attention and not overfilled my bike; an approaching the ranger distracted me, inquiring re: green stickers. So I now have a nice and shiny tank, at least until the overfilling evaporated.
While r2s was donning his gloves and goggles, I took a short spin through the deep- sanded staging area. While an adjacent group was warming up their machines, I came plowing by and dug in the front end, displaying my signature slow-speed layover maneuver. Since it was on my customary right side and still running, I blipped the throttle and casually reached over, shifted into neutral, picked it up and moved on – no harm done, and made it look rather routine.
On this first leg we went through the usual sandy whooped-out section, then up the tacky power line trail; traction on the latter was wheelie-good. Motioning r2s to pass before the steep right-handed climb, he cleared it just fine, and although being wet, it was not as slick as the last time, with less standing puddles on the top of the ridge.
A left led us down to the access road, and upon passing the ranger he motioned us in for a brief green sticker check (again? Do we all look alike?); he must have forgot where, when, moreover whom he already checked. (“Remember me? I’m the one who overfilled.”) We then dropped down into the creek, followed by a short break at the next staging area.
Moving on to the far-east end, we hung a left long the extreme southeast perimeter for another break at a trail split. “Which way is more difficult?” “They both are (Los Chiches vs. Stairsteps). But I’ll take your bike thru it all.” With that we decided Los Chiches, only to find him stalling it on the steepest uphill there. He was able to make it down again for a second, alternate try, making it further, then one more attempt and it was to the top.
At the next difficult uphill I stopped him for me to take it up, only to find they had gone thru with a mini-bulldozer – no more ruts!
At the peak we climbed a high point to over look the surrounding area; a beautiful cool and clear day.
He asks: “How do you ride those up hills without difficulty?” “Momentum; besides, you seem to scoot back on the seat, taking weight off of the front tire, then it starts to hit things and wander. Instead, move forward and stand up more often” sez dad the seasoned pilot.
Working our way back to the pickup I see he uses most of the rear travel thru the whoops, meaning the compression should be increased on the shock.
“Now dad, that was my best day out.” “It certainly was. Let’s do it again soon.”
________________________________________________________________________
And one more time, during Xmas break.
He wanted to do the loop with the Stairstep. So I said it’s do-able, but we will both have to bulldog down that one tough section; I’m not going to ride down it anymore.
Leaving home at noon free the trails of others; we had it too ourselves except for two other encounters – one was with an old fellow in a new Nissan on our way up to higher elevations.
This ridge had lost most of the pines from a fire few years ago, and being such was not as scenic as it would be otherwise. The 4WD trail not much of a challenge, other than the Stairstep section. Yes, I bulldogged both bikes down, even though I’ve done it before on the pegs, there’s no sense in risking damaging bike nor body with little glory forthcoming.
So now we’ve done it all. I think he may be ready for Ballinger next.
Now that we’ve been getting some rain, my wife suggested Reluctant 2stroker (hereafter r2s: that’s his new handle; insists he’s a 4-strk guy, but will be on 2 so long as I’m paying) and I go for a trail ride; said she wanted to tag along in spite of my no-girls! policy. Hey; cut me some slack: it’s not I don’t want her around, but with the dust and sun and loud-piped YZWRCRF-somethings and quads doing donuts in the staging area, she quickly forgets why she sez “I’m not going again” – the last time will be her last time! Sooo…they loaded up the truck and they…arrived at Turkey Flats around noon-ish. The soil was perfectly damp; temps were in the low 60s. There were already a dozen pickups, and the ranger was passing thru, looking for stickers and forest passes.
r2s couldn’t fit his old boots any more; good I brought an extra-large pair (sz 11) for his growing boats. As we left camp my wife took note: he seemed like a foal, first on it’s feet – long-limbed and lanky. You see: it’s been three years since he’s been on a bike. However he had no problem keeping up with a mild trail pace.
The first few miles of trail changed from sandy to slick. On one particular hard-right-then-steep-uphill, he took it too wide, then overcorrected and high sided on the other. Meanwhile I stopped and waited ahead next to a puddle. As I was waiting and watching, a group of three riders passed; the last gave me a rude splash followed up with roost - not nice (jerk!) R2s was able to upright the KDX and asked I take it to the next leveling. Lesson #1: He needs to move his weight forward; the sticky, rubberized-grip seat cover doesn’t help one’s butt-scooting process. (I’ve since installed a less tacky cover.)
As we continued on the ridge, the mud and standing water increased the pucker factor for both of us. At each rest/recoup stop he wanted to soldier on, and that we did.
Some of the steeper trail sections had anti-erosion brick inlaid. There were deep ruts on either side from those who strayed from the straight and narrow, but neither of us veered off the course. And it’s good we didn’t, as there’d be a price to pay with much bulldogging.
At the far end of the area we took a break to take in the sights. California Valley lay to the east, and over the last of the coastal range-ridges would be the San Joaquin Valley. There was still lingering cloud cover from the passing storm front. And lookie there: the microwave tower off in the distance. Whilst we were admiring the scenery, a group of four riders stopped alongside, saying, “just what are those rubber (boot) thingies on your forks?” Seems like most modern machines do come with USD forks these days.
Before leaving our vantage point, r2s asks we take the easy way back – well, “sorry to say: this is the easy way!” He’d been doing quite well up to this point. On the way back he did round another pre-hill corner with too much speed; turns out there was mucho mud of the slick type at the base; water and ruts included. He managed to keep it upright, all the way into the bushes. Dang! But this time having dad take it to the top was not an acceptable option – he will have to ride smart and do it on his own, scooting forward on the seat. And that he did – lots of throttle and will, to where after reaching the peak he just kept on roosting/going.
Twenty mud-flinging miles later we arrived back at camp. Appetite had set in, so whilst loading the bikes and shredding our gear, we snacked and was ready in record time.
My wife said there weren’t the pit racers she’d experienced before, the sun stayed above the natural canopy the whole time, and with the moisture not a speck of airborne dust. She even got a close up view of a road-traversing tarantula on the back home.
________________________________________________________________________
A week later r2s asks for some more, and how could I refuse with another storm front coming through? This time it was just he and I.
Arriving earlier in the day afforded us a more casual approach, although I should have paid more attention and not overfilled my bike; an approaching the ranger distracted me, inquiring re: green stickers. So I now have a nice and shiny tank, at least until the overfilling evaporated.
While r2s was donning his gloves and goggles, I took a short spin through the deep- sanded staging area. While an adjacent group was warming up their machines, I came plowing by and dug in the front end, displaying my signature slow-speed layover maneuver. Since it was on my customary right side and still running, I blipped the throttle and casually reached over, shifted into neutral, picked it up and moved on – no harm done, and made it look rather routine.
On this first leg we went through the usual sandy whooped-out section, then up the tacky power line trail; traction on the latter was wheelie-good. Motioning r2s to pass before the steep right-handed climb, he cleared it just fine, and although being wet, it was not as slick as the last time, with less standing puddles on the top of the ridge.
A left led us down to the access road, and upon passing the ranger he motioned us in for a brief green sticker check (again? Do we all look alike?); he must have forgot where, when, moreover whom he already checked. (“Remember me? I’m the one who overfilled.”) We then dropped down into the creek, followed by a short break at the next staging area.
Moving on to the far-east end, we hung a left long the extreme southeast perimeter for another break at a trail split. “Which way is more difficult?” “They both are (Los Chiches vs. Stairsteps). But I’ll take your bike thru it all.” With that we decided Los Chiches, only to find him stalling it on the steepest uphill there. He was able to make it down again for a second, alternate try, making it further, then one more attempt and it was to the top.
At the next difficult uphill I stopped him for me to take it up, only to find they had gone thru with a mini-bulldozer – no more ruts!
At the peak we climbed a high point to over look the surrounding area; a beautiful cool and clear day.
He asks: “How do you ride those up hills without difficulty?” “Momentum; besides, you seem to scoot back on the seat, taking weight off of the front tire, then it starts to hit things and wander. Instead, move forward and stand up more often” sez dad the seasoned pilot.
Working our way back to the pickup I see he uses most of the rear travel thru the whoops, meaning the compression should be increased on the shock.
“Now dad, that was my best day out.” “It certainly was. Let’s do it again soon.”
________________________________________________________________________
And one more time, during Xmas break.
He wanted to do the loop with the Stairstep. So I said it’s do-able, but we will both have to bulldog down that one tough section; I’m not going to ride down it anymore.
Leaving home at noon free the trails of others; we had it too ourselves except for two other encounters – one was with an old fellow in a new Nissan on our way up to higher elevations.
This ridge had lost most of the pines from a fire few years ago, and being such was not as scenic as it would be otherwise. The 4WD trail not much of a challenge, other than the Stairstep section. Yes, I bulldogged both bikes down, even though I’ve done it before on the pegs, there’s no sense in risking damaging bike nor body with little glory forthcoming.
So now we’ve done it all. I think he may be ready for Ballinger next.
