Prospect ride September 2005

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Prospect ride September 2005

Post by skipro3 »

Let me start by saying thanks to Brad for inviting me to go riding with him yet again. This was the third trip up to ride his trails and I am honored to be repeatedly invited to return. With each ride, I am concerned that there could be no better time spent and that all future rides will end in some sort of disappointment. I worry too much. The rides just keep getting better and better. And not just the rides, but the hospitality as well. Brad really outdid himself this trip, but you readers will discover that for yourselves as I tell my story.
After the last time I rode at Brad's invitation, back in June, I was saying my good-bye's when he told me to come back soon to ride Prospect. I was excited to take him up on it and was looking forward to the opening of that area for riding. The first weekend Prospect was open was the first week of July and I was not able to make it. Lucky for me, actually, because I found out later that is was hot. (Thanks for the info, Cindy!! Now I don't feel bad for the delay.) Who's Cindy you may ask? Believe it or not, Brad's married and she's his wife. Other than that poor lack of judgment, I could find no wrong with this lovely and gracious woman. The only other woman I've ever met who is so like her is my own wife. Cindy made me feel immediately like an old friend and family member. How lucky for all of us that went on the trip, that she decided to come along.
After hounding me relentlessly to come up before the officials close the place for the fire danger, I was able to clear my calendar and make a commitment to head up there. E-mails were exchanged. Maps and directions along with phone #'s for last minute contacts; then before I knew it. The weekend was upon me. My plan was to pack up on Thursday evening, get to bed early and leave by 6 am on Friday. I work a 4/10 shift and have Fridays off so this was not going to cost me any time away from work. Then the bad news. On Wednesday, while in the backcountry adjusting a stream release level for a small feeder lake, I was stricken with a sore throat. At first I thought it was just allergies or the dry air and low humidity, but by the time I got home from work, I knew; I was sick with a summer cold. I forewarned Brad with a quick e-mail but promised that I would still be coming up. I didn't want to disappoint anyone by bailing out at the last minute. Stay home from a weekend ride due to a minor discomfort like a tickle in my throat? NO WAY!!!!!! On Thursday, my symptoms worsened and my sinuses were getting involved as well as the sore throat. No biggie, that's what medication is for. "Better living through chemistry" I always say, and I doped up on sudafed and ibuprofen. Packing was easy; I'm all set for that 3 different ways. My motorcycle trailer that I tow behind my touring bike, my boat and my cab-over camper all have enough each to outfit a light infantry unit. I tossed my stuff into the rocket box on top of the Subaru Forester and headed out to the grocery store to get a few supplies. With everything set, I headed off to bed with the alarm set for 4 am. I changed my mind and decided that the rest of the world does not get Fridays off and didn't want to hit the Sacramento traffic by leaving my place at 6. So I planned on leaving my house by 5 am and suprising Brad by being there early. The meds. It's the medication's fault. At 4 am I must have hit the wrong button on the alarm and didn't move again until 7 am. The sleep did me good though and my cold symptoms didn't feel nearly as severe as the night before. With everything already packed, I hit the shower and kissed the little woman as I headed out the door. No false starts, I was on my way!!!

Next chapter: The Roadtrip North
Jerry

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Post by sasrocks »

We want the next chapter!!!! :mrgreen:
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The sun is climbing high into the eastern sky as I point my little Subaru, with trailer in tow, west on Highway 50 towards Sacramento. It's now 9 am and I'm at least 3 hours behind the time I told Brad I would be leaving home, but the extra rest proves to be well worth it. I'm feeling pretty well and the traffic is light. From Sacramento, I take Interstate 5 north and within 30 minutes, I'm on cruise control set for 75mph. The speed is posted as 70 for autos and 55 for commercial trucks and autos towing trailers. Not to worry; I'm a telecom tech and have a modified radar detector and a scanner that monitors the law enforcement on the highway. The GPS is on and logging my trip into it's little brain. It tells me I'm doing 75mph and that I'm averaging 66mph since pulling out of the driveway. Several alerts on the radar tell me when a CHP is within 2 miles from me thanks to the ability to decode their repeater feature between the handheld radios they use outside their patrol car and the mobile radio mounted to the vehicle itself. A handy tool indeed, as most cops forget to turn their portable radio off when climbing back into their patrol car. In no time at all, I'm passing over one of several bridges crossing Lake Shasta. It's a big lake and there's at least 4 or 5 crossings as I now have to slow a bit due to the hills starting to grow around me. Another 1/2 hour and I get my first peak at Mt. Shasta, it's crown still blanketed in snow. I'm lucky. It's one of those cloud free days and the whole mountain is exposed in crystal clarity. It's a big hill and takes me a couple of hours before it's finally lost from sight in my rear view mirror. But before it's gone, I stop for gas in the small town of Weed. I have a favorite gas station there. It's a Chevron at the first exit coming into town from the south. It's right off the freeway and is adjacent to a large meadow with a completely uninterrupted view of Shasta. I take on 11.5 gallons and then add 2 more gallons to my dirtbike gas can for a cost of more than $42. Wow!!!! I'm getting about 24mpg so that's a good thing.
I'm late, I know. It's after 12 noon and Brad is expecting me by noon. I hope he doesn't hang around camp just for me and takes in some riding. Back on the highway and within a few minutes, I see a large barn off to the right of the highway with a large sign painted on the roof welcoming me to the State of Jefferson. I'm home!!! Ahhhh. Soon the sign welcoming me to Oregon is upon me and not too long after that are signs telling me that Medford is fast approaching. Following Brad's directions, I get off the freeway and run into road construction. Somehow, the road signs get me back onto Interstate 5 heading north again. A slight detour and I'm finally on Hwy. 62 heading east and within a couple of hours I should be pulling into camp. Hwy. 62 isn't like most highways. It's more like the main drag down the middle of a town. Lots of signal lights, road construction, highway patrol with Laser Radar guns, Wal-Mart, Freddies, Costco, you name it, it's all on the one street. Looking past the retail establishments, I can see they mostly back up to wide open prairie. This traffic is definitely slowing me down. It's heavy enough to have to wait for at least 2 light changes to make it though an intersection. I soon discover that Oregon drivers pay strict attention to the speed limit. No one is going over the posted limits, even though the roads and traffic could allow for a quicker pace. That's O.K., I'm tired and the speed suits me fine. The radar detector goes off 3 different times on the laser sensor. That thing is sensitive. I can pick up a laser gun more than 3 miles away. I soon spot the officer on the side of the road, in his yogi-the-bear hat, writing a ticket to a pretty blonde. Yup, she has California plates. No hope in flirting her way out of a ticket. Most folks in Oregon don't think too highly of Californians. Now past the incorporated area of Medford, the signal lights are behind me and the pace quickens; both the driving pace and my own. I'm almost there. I soon see signs for Prospect, the town. OH, I'm close and getting excited. No problem about being tired from a 6+ hour drive and 400 miles under my seatbelt. About seven miles up from Prospect there is a Forest Service road that intersects HWY 62, Woodruff Bridge (picnic area) to the left, Huckleberry CG to the right. It's a big well-marked intersection. It's PAST River Bridge and BEFORE Natural Bridge intersections. Brad said we stash fuel off in the woods, out of sight at the Woodruff/Huckleberry intersection.....on the east side of the road...just off the lane you're driving in toward Union Creek. He also told me later, not to worry; Cindy would make a gas run that evening, so I take note of the intersection and motor on by. See what I mean about Cindy? She's a sweetheart for running an errand like that for a bunch of dirt bike riders. Thanks Cindy!!! The highway changes from 62 to 230. About 13 miles up 230 I see Claude Lewis Trailhead on my left..it's a large (15 acres or so) paved parking lot/staging area. As Brad suggested, I take the rig out of warp drive, 'cuz less than 1/2 mile farther up the road I will turn LEFT onto a gravel road. This same gravel road goes right, too...toward Hamaker CG, but I turn left when I see a paper plate with my and m0rie's name on it. About one mile on the gravel and I see the small sign, 'Buck Canyon' marking what looks more like a driveway than a road, to the LEFT. Again, a paper plate is marking the way for m0rie and me. At the end of that (about 200') driveway, I see the trailer, the bike and the Camping Spot. I'm there!!!!

Next chapter: Where is everyone?!?
Jerry

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Post by canyncarvr »

I'm sure we'll get to hear about how much faster the trip BACK was..having left the sort throat, the sinus congestion, the coughing fits up here...WITH US!!! That had to make for much lighter load on the return trip.

Thanks for sharing!!! :wink:

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Post by m0rie »

>|<>QBB<
canyncarvr wrote:I'm sure we'll get to hear about how much faster the trip BACK was..having left the sort throat, the sinus congestion, the coughing fits up here...WITH US!!! That had to make for much lighter load on the return trip.

Thanks for sharing!!! :wink:
Don't worry CC - He left some of it with me too! :roll:
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Post by skipro3 »

Are you guys sick?!!? Well, guess what? I'm STILL sick. Stayed home all weekend with the most beautiful weather in months because I keep coughing up green stuff. YUK!!
I told you I was sick and not to cuddle so close to me in the tent. That was YOU, right? BTW you smell and snore like a bear!

Stay tuned for the next chapter tomorrow!!!!
Jerry

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Post by Mr. Wibbens »

I'm getting a cough too!
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Post by Mr. Wibbens »

Tomorrow was yesturday Skislow!

We wanta ride report!

We wanta ride report!

We wanta ride report!

We wanta ride report!

We wanta ride report! :mrgreen:
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Post by canyncarvr »

Wassa matter wibby...you were THERE! You don't remember??

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Post by KDXer »

I think he's just speakin for the majority CC.... :wink:

Yeah c'mon Skislow where is it ?!?!?! HuH ?!? :lol: We are waitinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng !! :prayer: :razz: :mrgreen:
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Post by skipro3 »

Work is really taken hold of my life right now. Start time: 5am Quitting time 16 hours later, but only because the civil service laws say so unless life or property losses are involved. It's 10:30 and I just got home and eating dinner as I type this. 5 am come too soon to be back in the office. I'm supposed to have friday off. If I do, I'm going riding, then writing. Sorry for the delay.

Now, go wipe that snot off your nose and quit hacking all over everything!!! Jeeze, someone might catch what you have, then where we all be?? :lol:
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Post by Mr. Wibbens »

>|<>QBB<
skipro3 wrote: Sorry for the delay.
Yeah yeah yeah, no problem

We'll just be here................ WAITING!!!!!!!! :twisted:
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Post by Mr. Wibbens »

Hey Skibro, not to rub it in or anything, but I'm going back up there Sunday! :supz: :mrgreen:
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Post by skipro3 »

I made it! 394 miles and 8 hours later, I’m finally there. As I swing the little Subaru around in a sort of wagon train circle consisting of a white Tundra, a RV trailer, a Geo Tracker, also with a trailer but for hauling a dirt bike, and my Subaru and little trailer carrying my now dusty KDX, I looked to see where the first signs of human activity would spring from. Turning off the motor and stepping out of my car, I give a hoot and shout for Brad. No response. Hmmmm. I can see his passenger door open on his tow vehicle and the keys were in the lock. Approaching the RV trailer, I can hear voices. Perhaps I was disturbing a private moment? Not one to miss that opportunity, I peek in. It’s only the radio! The door to the trailer is open and the radio playing. Brad's car with the keys in the lock, I then noticed Cindy's quad was not around. So that's it; they took a little ride. Good. That gives me some time to stretch and start setting up my camp. Looking around, I spot a likely area that will serve as my home and immediately set to unloading my gear and pitching the tent. Within minutes, I hear a quad coming up the driveway. Now in view, I can see Brad and Cindy approaching. The welcomes and greetings back and forth are genuine and boisterous. Brad immediately inquires as to my willingness to take off for a ride right then and there, while Cindy had slipped away and was now coming back with a cold Corona with a wedge of lime slipped down it's neck. Offering me the beverage was only the beginning of what would be many kind acts of hospitality towards just one of her hubby’s riding buddies. Thanking Cindy, I set Brad to work helping me set up the tent. It’s then that I discover that I forgot or lost my tent stakes. You guessed it, Cindy to the rescue!!! She produces a small sack with the tent stakes I need and the tent is set up. I get the air mattress inflated, while impressing Brad with my little generator charged with the power production chores. I demonstrate all the neat little camping items I’ve acquired over the years from motorcycle camping and Brad is dually impressed. I think he’s humoring me so as to speed up so we can go riding. Asking about m0rie, I find out that no one is quite sure when he’s going to show up. Since Brad offered to shuttle the fuel back to the stash area, we figure that if he isn’t around by 6:30pm, then we’ll just have to deliver the fuel we have and hope it’s enough. Finally, I’m suited up, bike unloaded and we are ready for a trail ride!! Brad leads us off down a gravel road for a few miles to a trail head that is heading up a hill. Nodding for me to lead, I charge up the trail and soon I’m into the riding rhythm; the long drive, the work from the week, house hold chores are now long forgotten as my attention is focused on riding. It’s not a hard or fast charge down the trail, but more like the attention demanding focus one uses when crafting something from raw materials. I am looking for the small things, like a root or rock that I can skip over just as I used to skip, jump and play as a child. Dirtbiking does that to a guy; turns back the clock to a time when the most important thing at hand was a make-believe game played with imaginary friends. Yes, somewhere back behind me in my dust wake was Brad, but it wasn’t hard to loose thought of his ride and play with my motorcycle and the ride that I was enjoying. Tiny bridges crossing water filled streams, meadows with summer’s last hold on the green-turning-to-gold grasses, and once or twice, a burst of dust on the trail that I punch through with the bike, telling me that something else was enjoying the stillness of the late afternoon as the sun dropped low into early evening. Switchbacks and hill climbs littered with sharp rocks and thick dust cut uphill and through forest as I continue to unwind from my life’s reality of daily living. Without realizing it, I have transported myself to the Zen of motorcycle riding in only a few short miles. Time doesn’t hang on or drag out as I am riding the first trail of the weekend, it stops. I have no idea how long I’ve been merrily skirting down this trail. No idea how long it will last, or when it will come to it’s conclusion. Just that I’m here and riding in the golden afternoon filled with the sweet scented air of early autumn. Then, with almost a flash of awareness, the trail pops me out onto a fire road and I realize that Brad must be somewhere behind me and I should wait for him to show up. While waiting, I take my helmet off and I’m surprised how the air feels so cool on this warm afternoon. A small pond is just across the fire road from where I have found a large tree to rest under, it’s shade helping account for the coolness as well as the closeness of the water. Within minutes, Brad’s bike is heard working it’s way up the trail and he’s soon beside my bike, stabbing at the kill button and flicking the kickstand down all in one motion. Brad and I talk for a bit about the features of the trail, where the difficult spots were, what parts where the most fun, stuff like that. At one point, Brad was sure I had somehow left the trail and headed across one of the meadows we crossed when he realized the dust he was riding through was now missing. It turned out just to be a bit of breeze that must have carried my dust away and gave him a bit of respite from the assault on his lungs. The trail is at it’s end and the route back is the way we came, Brad explained; almost apologizing. For what? I don’t know! A trail is completely new when ridden in the reverse direction other than now having some idea of it’s length. Brad again offers to have me lead and I gladly accept. It’s too hard to argue now with the helmets on and the bikes running anyway. I hit the throttle and work my way through the first three gears before I settle in to a brisk 3rd to 4th and back to 3rd gear pace on the trail. This time we wind our way down the hillside we climbed just moments earlier, first with the sun at our backs, then later with the sun warming our faces. As the sun is to my back, I can see my shadow on the ground in front of me as I motor along; a companion on the trail that seems to be taunting me into a game of tag as it cuts first left, then right, in front of me on the trail. He’s deceiving me though, and drawing my attention away from the roots and rocks. Soon, I’m too fast and almost overshoot a turn that would have taken me across a small meadow. Stopping and looking behind me to see if Brad caught my inattention to the task at hand and playing with my shadow, I realize that perhaps it’s the same spot he thought I had taken an unplanned route on the way up. The breeze is stronger here, without the trees to slow it’s progress. My dust is gone from the trail behind me and I soon hear Brad’s motor working it’s way closer. No time to wonder, I need to get scooting or I’ll be caught!! Like a game of tag or hide-and-seek, I tear off down the trail as a jackrabbit would with a fox in pursuit. Downhills are fun with the KX forks and the .42 springs. I can fly and not worry about the immediate terrain I’m rolling over, just the general condition of the trail. Much too soon, I’m back to where we started on this section of single track and I pop onto the gravel road we started from. Parking to the side in case other traffic should be out enjoying the forest as we were, I remove my helmet and wait for my guide to show up. He’s coming down the trail and I regret not having the camera ready to snap a photo as he comes into view. And what I photo it would have made too!!! At the last possible rock that could have caused anyone trouble, Brad’s front wheel, under heavy braking, skids forward and locks his front wheel. The rear wheel lifts into a mini stoppie and the front end locks to a full left turn. A noise emits from behind Brad’s helmet as he literally flies over the front of the bike. Almost like slow motion, his arms are outstretched in a superman-like pose as he clears the bike’s handlebars. Then, with what must be instinct or muscle memory learned from past experience, he pulls his arms in and across his chest, and tucks his chin in, rolling on his right shoulder into a somersault and almost immediately standing up and racing back to his motorcycle. Like a parent to a fallen child, he’s not in the least concerned with any possible injury to himself. He seems intent on picking up his fallen ride and checking it for injury. I race to Brad and try to quickly ascertain if he is injured in any way. He seems fine other than his pride. The bike though, is a little worse for the wear. A bark buster is snapped in two and the bars are no longer symmetrical. Reviewing what Brad experienced and what I saw, we trace his bikes last few meters and find the rock that skidded out from his front tire. It’s just one of those falls that you really can’t do anything about, they just happen. In this case, it was to Brad on the last few feet of the first trail of the weekend. Too BAD!!!!!!

Next Chapter: where’s m0rie?
Jerry

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Post by m0rie »

>|<>QBB<
skipro3 wrote: Next Chapter: where’s m0rie?
Where, oh where am I?
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Post by skipro3 »

Brad and I head back to camp with the hope that m0rie will be there. Along the way and without consult, we start to challenge each other with blips of the throttle. Nothing serious, mind you. We are both aware that the gravel road holds danger and needs to be respected. For one, it’s slippery stuff. A quick fan of the throttle will find your rear wheel succumbing to the laws of physics and seeking the path of least resistance. That’s usually down and off the road, by the way. For another, the gravel road is a road. It is shared with both on and off road vehicles. Meeting another dirt bike or quad head-on with each going 40+mph is not pretty. I’ve seen it a few times. On the lucky occasion, one of the bikes actually split into two separate pieces. On the not so lucky occasion, a rider died. I hate to think of a full sized truck meeting with a dirt bike on the same road. It’s a long way to medical help in this remote area of Oregon! Riding side-by-side, I spot a fairly long straight away and go for it! A split second later, so does Brad. I’m leading but he catches me and slowly pulls away. Laughing in delight at the sport, I back off the ¼ throttle I’m running under and let Brad take the lead. Later, I tell him it was a full out open throttle race as an attempt to soothe his ego from the crash earlier. It works as he claims he was only at ¾ throttle when he passed me. (Don’t tell him I said this, he’ll just find the need to refute my story. And it is my story after all. If he has another version of events, he can just write his own story.) Arriving back at our staging / camp area, the first thing I notice is the lack of any new vehicles to the ones already there. No m0rie!! Cindy comes out to meet us and she offers to go take the fuel we have to the staging area by 6:30pm if m0rie shows up or not. Any later and she would be out after dark. But more importantly, Brad’s dinner will be late! Cindy’s offer to take the fuel is just another example of her generous spirit. As Brad and I prepare to leave for a second ride, he points to a quad trail leading from behind the RV and I take off. This trail is the standard 48" wide dual track quad type trail. It swoops and winds, rises and falls in an almost meticulously groomed roller coaster of a ride. Skipping across the center ridge formed by the dual wheels of a quad, I hop from one bermed turn to the next. Each one providing more confidence in my riding then the last. Soon, I’m railing the turns in what would be a crash for certain if not for the angle of the lean and the berm’s lip. This bit of trail is short and we are back onto a gravel road. Brad catches up and I’m lead off down to the highway, where we cross and come upon another single track trail leading off into the woods. Brad again points to the trail, indicating that I am to take the hole shot. A great host gesture! Thanks! This trail is more technical than the first ride and I soon find myself on a very narrow and steep sidehill track leading up the mountain after a short ride though a log laden bottom land. Roots are pretty large here, so speed is needed to be under control to prevent a washout and trip down the steep embankment to what must be a stream somewhere hidden in the lush growth of brush hiding the bottom of the draw we are riding up. My confidence grows as I focus on the trail and only let my mind imagine the view of looking down into the draw. I don’t want to be pulled down there by that demon, "Target fixation", so when the urge to peak a look down is too strong, I slow way down and am amazed to the view. Within a few more turns the trail and terrain relax into an open glade of trees that has many deadfalls crisscrossing the trail. The diligence of the work parties that cleared the logs using a chain saw in just those portions that cross the trail is appreciated. But that’s my downfall, I’m not thinking about the ride, but on the work to make the trail and soon I’m sideways, heading straight for the log end just off the trail. Relaxing a bit and working the front brake, I’m back under control and on the trail. It could have been ugly! Trees turn to willow brush and I’m in a bottom land that is sandy and must support some water ways. Yup, a small hand hewn bridge is ahead and I admire the deep pool of clear water as it peeks from under the willow that hangs over it’s banks and winds under the bridge. Clicking the camera in my head to record the moment, I find myself yet again distracted by the beauty all around me and almost miss the second bridge!!! It’s at the end of a sharp turn left. To over shoot this turn would have me in the stream with a 200+ lb bike pinning me to the sandy bottom!! FOCUS!!! I tell myself. And not too soon either. The trail steeply climbs up the embankment of the stream, cut from years of high water flows. Not enough speed here and I would tip over and fall many feet into the undercut hill and into the icy water. Too much speed and I would loose control of the hill climb littered with roots and stair steps of soil from past riders who tarried and lost their momentum. Within a few hundred more yards, the trail dumps out onto a wide grass filled dead-end of a fire road. I find a nice area to park the bike and remove my helmet so as to regale the events of the ride with Brad. He’s again, only moments behind me. I’m grateful for that as I recall my near miss with the water hole. Like the last trail, we talk some of the technical features, our personal rides and how we met the challenges of the trail. And like the last trail, we get to do it all again but in reverse. Brad tells me that this represents about the last of the single track, almost apologizing again. But I assure him that any area he finds worth the time to spend an entire weekend I’m sure to be ecstatic over. After our brief rest, we head back the way we came. Again with me taking the lead at Brad’s offer to do so. Just before the trail ends and we are once again back on the fire roads, a large doe cuts across the trail from my left, and racing me disappears off to my right into the forest. I slow enough to see if she has any company but don’t see any other critters. The trail is over. The woods are now getting dark as I notice Brad’s headlight reflecting the road in front of us. As I think back on the trail we just completed, it’s ground cover of wild strawberries, the ripened choke cherries and the tinge of yellow touching the edges of the willow leaves, Brad races down the road, leaving me a trail of dust to mark my way back to camp.

Next chapter: m0rie makes it!!!
Jerry

I'd rather be a smartass like carvr, than a dumbass like.... well, you fill in the blank!
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Mr. Wibbens
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Post by Mr. Wibbens »

Simply a treat to read Jerry! :grin:
Warning! This member tends to use sarcasm as a regular form of communication. If a post seems offensive, before you panic and fly off the handle, re-read the post and imagine it being said with a sideways grin.
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Post by KDXer »

Bravo !!!! It felt like I was there... :supz:
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Post by skipro3 »

With the final trail laying just ahead, Brad holds up and waits for me to catch up to him. A retrace of the dual track back into the camp we have made is our final hurrah for the evening. Again, he flags me to take the point position and again, I don’t argue. I learned not to argue with Brad right from the get-go. With some guys, it’s an insult not to accept their hospitality. Brad only offers if he truly wishes to be gracious. He’s gracious with every step in his walk of life. As the trail comes to an end and the vehicles circled around come into view, I see it!!! A big, dark blue Suburban and another green dirt bike joining the ranks! M0ri made it! Parking my bike, I remember to remove my helmet and trot over to greet my old friend face-to-face for the first time. If you’ve never seen m0rie or a photo of him, just imagine what you would think a California kid who lives at the beach would look like. He’s the poster child of healthful good looks and free spirit. A shock of blond hair, lean and a big toothy grin greets me as I shake his hand and introduce myself; first as Jerry, then as Skipro in case he’s not familiar with my Christian name. He says his name is Maurice but I call him m0rie anyway the rest of the trip. Events are kinda fuzzy around this time. I don’t know, maybe I’m tired from the drive and dirt rides, maybe I’m just glad we are all safe and finally all gathered together. But somehow, I find a beer in my hand and soon changed into some comfortable camp clothes, pulling up a chair next to a smoking campfire ring. Earlier in the day, before Brad and Cindy showed up on the quad, a ranger made his way into our camp area and posted a sign stating that no campfires were allowed. I tell Brad about this event and Cindy too is listening. She placed a few paper plates in the ring to use as kindling for the evening’s fire without knowing about the new restrictions. Cindy tells me about the nice fire they had the evening before and how sad it will be not to have another. In the meantime the webber BBQ grill has a nice bed of charcoal briquettes turning from dark to a light ash color. A bowl of pistachios appear and we sit around the grill and fire ring swapping stories and tossing the shells into the unignited ring. A few shells find smoldering coals and begin to smoke. I suggest that maybe we could get away with a small fire fed just with twigs and sticks. Brad then begins to tell the first tale of the evening.
Next chapter: Campfire tales!!!
Jerry

I'd rather be a smartass like carvr, than a dumbass like.... well, you fill in the blank!
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canyncarvr
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I recall.....

Post by canyncarvr »

...a post not too long ago...something to do with 70+mph, 1/4 throttle AND 4-stroking....

I obviously made it all up.

I profusely apologize. :oops:

Now...back to the (his!) story..............

It's a good one, too!! :wink:

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