MelloYello
~SPONSOR~
- Nov 22, 2002
- 280
- 0
It started sometime in the night. The soft pitter-patter on the truck's roof gave way to hard, clumpy drops of rain that continued through the night. As I lay in my sleeping bag, I whispered, "Please stop raining." It didn't.
It rained all night. It rained all morning. When I woke it was raining sheets of cats and dogs in buckets. I didn't want to go outside, so I read Racer X for 2 hours in the back of my truck. As it got closer to key time, I grew bolder and decided to launch a pre-emptive strike. I wouldn't wait for the rain to come to me - I would go meet the rain.
Dressing quickly, I stepped outside to find that it wasn't so bad. I could deal with this. I ride a dirtbike for pete's sake. Adding to my good spirits, my bike, which had been outside all night, started with just 2 kicks. I prepared everything for the race and headed off toward the start.
It was, despite the rain, a gorgeous day. Low-lying clouds clung to the sides of mountains and shiny green leaves sprouted from their dark branches. I was excited to race through such beatiful country. And Middle Creek was flowing deep.
Maybe that should have been an omen, but how could I have known? We crossed the creek right at the start and headed into the woods. Within a mile or so came another crossing, slightly deeper but still passable. I negotiated a third crossing efficiently and saw that I had to go through yet another one. (I believe all of them were Middle Creek) Guys on the other side were pointing to shallow spots and I rushed in full of confidence. I was nearly to the other bank when the bike burbled and died, causing me to tip over into the (surprisingly not cold) water.
I pushed it onto dry land and saw that there were about a dozen riders tending to their bikes, some upside down. My own bike would not start. Fast-forward thirty minutes and I finally got it fired up and headed down the trail. My thought at that point was to not hour out, but the Creek had other plans. For shortly after my failed crossing came a fifth! A KTM rider in front of me suggested we walk our bikes over, helping each other. Sounded like a good plan as I was plenty tired after my marathon kicking session a short while ago.
I slowly pushed my bike into the water and found it to be deep. Family jewels deep.:scream: The current kept pushing us downstream, but we made it across. After helping him push his bike, I was tie-erd. Then my bike wouldn't start. Son-of a-. . .
It was now about an hour into the "race" and I had gone 2.17 miles. My goggles were useless, my glasses were fogged up and my whole body was pretty much soaked. I just wanted to make it to the first check so i could take the road back. The trails, under drier conditions, would have been awesome, but it was just a means to an end. But that end would not be quick in coming.
The miles kept going by and it rained harder and harder and I got wetter and wetter (if that was possible). Then it started to snow! It wasn't soft, flakey, oh-isn't-this-pretty snow. It was mean, cold, take-this-you-sob, sideways snow. It hurt. My face when it hit it, my hands because it froze them. I had never been so miserably wet and cold in my life. Then at mile 12 I saw it. I almost teared up. 2 EZ-Ups with a dozen shivering riders huddled around a (thank you!) portable propane heater. After thawing for a minute, we followed the road back down to camp.
It's funny, though. As grueling as this enduro sounds, I really want to go back and do another one. But next time, if there's rain in the forecast, somebody please stop me.
It rained all night. It rained all morning. When I woke it was raining sheets of cats and dogs in buckets. I didn't want to go outside, so I read Racer X for 2 hours in the back of my truck. As it got closer to key time, I grew bolder and decided to launch a pre-emptive strike. I wouldn't wait for the rain to come to me - I would go meet the rain.
Dressing quickly, I stepped outside to find that it wasn't so bad. I could deal with this. I ride a dirtbike for pete's sake. Adding to my good spirits, my bike, which had been outside all night, started with just 2 kicks. I prepared everything for the race and headed off toward the start.
It was, despite the rain, a gorgeous day. Low-lying clouds clung to the sides of mountains and shiny green leaves sprouted from their dark branches. I was excited to race through such beatiful country. And Middle Creek was flowing deep.
Maybe that should have been an omen, but how could I have known? We crossed the creek right at the start and headed into the woods. Within a mile or so came another crossing, slightly deeper but still passable. I negotiated a third crossing efficiently and saw that I had to go through yet another one. (I believe all of them were Middle Creek) Guys on the other side were pointing to shallow spots and I rushed in full of confidence. I was nearly to the other bank when the bike burbled and died, causing me to tip over into the (surprisingly not cold) water.
I pushed it onto dry land and saw that there were about a dozen riders tending to their bikes, some upside down. My own bike would not start. Fast-forward thirty minutes and I finally got it fired up and headed down the trail. My thought at that point was to not hour out, but the Creek had other plans. For shortly after my failed crossing came a fifth! A KTM rider in front of me suggested we walk our bikes over, helping each other. Sounded like a good plan as I was plenty tired after my marathon kicking session a short while ago.
I slowly pushed my bike into the water and found it to be deep. Family jewels deep.:scream: The current kept pushing us downstream, but we made it across. After helping him push his bike, I was tie-erd. Then my bike wouldn't start. Son-of a-. . .
It was now about an hour into the "race" and I had gone 2.17 miles. My goggles were useless, my glasses were fogged up and my whole body was pretty much soaked. I just wanted to make it to the first check so i could take the road back. The trails, under drier conditions, would have been awesome, but it was just a means to an end. But that end would not be quick in coming.
The miles kept going by and it rained harder and harder and I got wetter and wetter (if that was possible). Then it started to snow! It wasn't soft, flakey, oh-isn't-this-pretty snow. It was mean, cold, take-this-you-sob, sideways snow. It hurt. My face when it hit it, my hands because it froze them. I had never been so miserably wet and cold in my life. Then at mile 12 I saw it. I almost teared up. 2 EZ-Ups with a dozen shivering riders huddled around a (thank you!) portable propane heater. After thawing for a minute, we followed the road back down to camp.
It's funny, though. As grueling as this enduro sounds, I really want to go back and do another one. But next time, if there's rain in the forecast, somebody please stop me.
