DR. PLUTO AS – DUALSPORT:
WEST ANGELES LOOP A REVERSED
What . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dualsport Ride, full day
When . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Meet Sunday, 01 April, 7:00 AM
Where . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Meet @ BMW Ventura parking lot
Contact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Laine_MacTague@verizon.net
When . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Meet Sunday, 01 April, 7:00 AM
Where . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Meet @ BMW Ventura parking lot
Contact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Laine_MacTague@verizon.net
DS RIDE 08: RECAP
Where was I? Oh yes; trying to wipe out hapless dual sporties: No luck, again. I thought at one point that Dan “Roy Rogers” Goldstein was going home early with one leg terminating in a mangled stump, but it worked out that he went home early with one leg terminating in a “hardly even swollen” ankle, which performed just fine on SDR 01 two weeks later. Likewise, it looked for a minute there like Doug Ford might end up wrapped around his Dakar and snowball-rolling back down a steep climb, but he managed to bring an exciting moment of anticipation to a fairly anticlimactic close. Too bad, in retrospect: If he had bruised himself a little, and broken a couple hard-to-order parts on his bike, he might have been in his truck last week, commuting home from work, when a motorist turned left in front of him. As it worked out, he was on his Dakar. Not only does he have several parts to order (like, possibly, a new bike –), but he also has a broken left hip and a gruesome set of stitches in one finger. No, Doug won’t be joining us for the next ride. Ride!? At this point he can’t even pinky-swear!
Where was I? Oh yes; trying to figure out where I was. Here I was; at the shop at 7 am. I’m the guy on the far, far right (– or left – all the way around, back behind the camera)…
There were 15 of us in all. Here’s who’s who and on what:
Gary at the shop opened up for us, bringing treats for all as usual. After filling up on doughnuts and 100% Columbian Blend Genuine BMW Motorcycles of Ventura County Hot Cocoa, we headed for the hills via Hwy 118, thence to Hwy 126 via Grimes Grade. I managed to jam in a signature weird Laine-ish parenthetical un-paved detour (“SWELIPUD”, in the future) early on; we took the culvert underpass beneath Hwy 126 at Piru, as seen in DSR 03.
This is an ideal shortcut; it provides dirt, a descent, mud, darkness, river rocks, and an off-cambered climb, all in just a few hundred feet; it takes far more time than the usual route, and it leads us in the wrong direction.
Regardless of my attempts to get us lost, we eventually found the Castaic gas station where we picked up Dan Taylor and Phil Wren. From here we launched off on one of my all-time favourite SWELIPUDs. This one is a couple miles long and – on the route we chose – includes a couple water crossings. Here’s some pictures of one of the water crossings:
Here’s some pictures of Eric Wetherbee taking a real close look at the riding surface just beyond one of the water crossings.
It’s always fun when Eric takes a break from riding. I hope that his recent exchange of the V-Strom for a DR 650 doesn’t preclude any more impromptu stops...
A short trip up I-5 brought us to another one of my all-time favourite SWELIPUDs (“ALTISPUDs”, in the future); this one involves – in the space of an offramp and an onramp – a large pond, beautiful chaparral-covered hills, and often – as in this case – fishermen. Jim Janssen led the climb-out from this detour on his orange KTM:
Another mile or so on I-5 brought us to this sight:
Steve Atkin and Angie Deubel opted to meet us here, at the offramp for the southern entrance to Hungry Valley State Vehicular Recreational Area (“the SVRA”, in the future). How they carry that mattress on the Dakar is a marvel of aftermarket rack design. When we arrived, Steve was taking a catnap while Angie was off refueling "The Peanut". We waited around until she pulled off the freeway, whipping the Yamaha TW 200 like a weary Shetland pony, and then headed for the SVRA (“HV”, in the future).
We used HV trails to basically parallel I-5 to Gorman. There was a lot of sand, and some moguls. At one point, Eric rode up to me after about 4 miles of such terrain. He had a big grin: “I’ve never ridden in sand before!” He said. He thought it was fun. On his V-Strom. I love that. The bike is so low you got to get a shovel to reach the pegs, and Eric loves sandy moguls. That is so, cool.
Next came a short but steep and winding climb, and our first bout of bad luck (you can’t count Eric falling over at the river crossing; that was good luck): We gathered at the base of the climb, where I warned about its steepness. Then we started up. So it worked out that just about half way up, the group of us that had gathered at the bottom met a group of dirt bike riders on their way down. 
Five of them, two on quads. I heard later that one of the quads slid into and knocked over one of the dirt bikers. This might be how things started to go awry, but however it happened, by the time Dan Goldstein got to the center of the climb, it was completely blocked off by a group of the stalled and confused. On an HP-2, I would think you could just ride over an obstacle like that, but Dan came to a complete stop, slid backwards a bit, and finally fell over on himself. Sadly, no footage of this spectacle exists; for a pretty good image of a tweaked ankle, though, check out this pic from DSR 04.
Doug was still at the bottom of the climb with Dan. They went back to the pavement together, where Dan headed home for a little ice and R & R, and Doug took the pavement in the other direction and headed us off at the pass.
One down and 13 to go, and we gathered up at Gorman to refuel. We discovered that Phil Wren’s leprotic bike is, in fact, incurable: He'd just got the beak back on, after taking it off on DSR 07, and now his license plate bracket had fallen off -- again.
From Gorman we headed into the Angeles National Forest (“Sherwood Forest”, hereafter).
On this ride we began using a formation suggested by Steve and Angela after DSR 07: It was working very well. Whenever I came to an intersection, I would
post the rider following me at that intersection, to direct other riders. When the sweep rider arrived at the intersection, the posted rider would continue just in front of the sweeper. We also developed signals for the posted rider to use in the event that there are two acceptable options, one being harder, and one being (get this) easier. Here, for instance, you can see riders exiting what looks like a granite-strewn riverbed, with a perfectly fine fire road right next door. This is where the two options came together again. Funny – nobody took the other option…
From this point we had some awesome canyon riding, past where the rival gang of riders gave us such a hard time last month (see the DSR 07 Recap). The 
canyon riding dumped us onto the Old Ridge Route Road, which provides panoramic views of the area, from a road surface as variable as – well, as variable as Δ[(X+Φ)/Y(5X-Φ)]. From the Ridge Route, we climbed onto the other ridge, following the mountains toward Soledad.
We’d been at it for a while, when it became clear that we were approaching one of the highest points along the ridgeline. I decided it was time to introduce a totally new practice to the Series, one which I came up with myself and am – considering how well it went – quite proud of: We stopped for a brief lunch break.
Dan Baake took post on the road, to make sure nobody flew on by and starved to death, and one by one riders pulled into an open and partly shaded area providing a broad vista of Lucerne Valley.
After lunch the ridgeline began to descend. Soon we were mucking about in rural Lake Hughes, looking for a two-foot wide hole in a ceanothus bush (see the DSR 07 Recap). We eventually found it, rode through, and began to climb back up into the mountains.
The road in this section meanders along just below several peaks, and there are often side trails that go to and over the peaks themselves. Most of these trails are challenging. We found one that provided a steep, straight, fairly long climb up loose, rocky terrain. It also provides a run-up that is marginal at best; short, loose, with obstructed vision of the climb. Researching this ride some months ago, I slid a significant ways down this hill. It had been beyond my ability – I found out a little late – to descend. But the Series is paying off: Tossing sharp rocks from my knobbies all the way, I launched upward with only minor trepidation, and with a little effort and assiduousness, managed to attain the vertex unscathed – except for the minor case of sesquipedality, which I am told will pass before I have to write the next Recap.
Anyway, it was really after the top, waiting to see if anyone else managed to make it up, that the trepidation part set in. Would the ride end in a heap, half way up that climb? But in no time, Phil pulled up behind me. It was great to share the experience of success on such a committing climb! Several other riders tried the climb, with varying degrees of success; Chris Craig went down near the top, but with a little help was rubber side down again in short order. Onward!
Again we descended the ridgeline, this time ending up on San Francisquito Canyon Road. Things were going really well. Riders gathered on the roadside as they finished the descent, and took a brief break before the next leg. Suddenly the radio (which we remembered, this time) crackled to life. It was Don “So Cool” Gordon: “I rode off the single-track back here. Stuck in a ditch…” Being the experienced and concerned ride leader I am, I sprang instantly into action. I grabbed the rider closest to me, screaming critical directives in his plug-filled and helmet-covered ear:
“Quick Doug! Take this camera and get a shot of Don before he gets up!”
Thank goodness I’ve trained for moments like that one. Sadly, there was a problem with with the auto focus. But here it is:
Arne Anselm went over to help
as well, which was good; watching Don get his bike turned around was definitely a job for two, and we still needed a cameraman. So I went over and took the unit from Doug:
Meantime, Calvin Morrison had seen Scott Huelskamp parked where the trail crosses San Fran Road, assumed that I had continued on, and raced off. He was long gone by the time we splinted So-Cool’s broken bones, morphined him up, and got him ready to ride. We set out after Calvin, paralleling the road to the south. We met him within a mile – he had realized his error and turned back. Reunited, we began again to ascend – this time, toward the dreaded, awe-inspiring, mogul-infested, rock-cluttered and motorcycle-part-strewn HELL that is House Trail.
Well, there’s not that many parts laying around…
This trail has three short impossible sections – or had: we are officially downgrading them to highly improbable, as of 04/01/2007. For the first and hardest section, I rode to the top, and we waited for riders to gather at the bottom before sending riders up one at a time. This way, we were veritably assured of good pictures, and everybody got to watch, point, and laugh.
First up was Doug Ford. He set up well…
… but began to have difficulties a little before the midpoint…
… which inspired him to pull out all the stops,
really wowing the crowd in the process…
Arne picked a sweet line with his R100…
Angie came up in great form. Sadly, I just missed her jumping a mogul. Imagine this exact shot, but she’s 2-3 feet off the ground:
… and then Don one-upped them by making it look easy on his 1200 GS:
And the rest of ‘em all WENT HOME from San Francisquito road! Can you believe it? So – if you went home, you have to stop reading about 10 pictures back. You have to miss the final climbs. You have to miss the jeep convoy, the exploding shock, and the ugly dead fish. What’s more, you are NOT on the A-Team (Except Scott, cuz he was on it for DSR 05 and once you are on it, you never ain’t again. And except for Phil, in part: You can read about the fish, Phil. [Phil Wren went home early, apparently so he could whip out his K1200 S, rejoin us for dinner, and cause us to cringe in fear at the sound of his engine. He joined us for part of the postprandial homeward ride, but we couldn’t get him beyond lugging it in second at like, 70, or something.]
Where – as I have so often asked – was I?
Oh yes. The hardest part of House Trail was over and done, and I was just about to watch Angie do this:
This is the second climb on House. The first climb was curved and mogul-covered; this one is straight, and covered in loose dirt and rocks. This slightly easier climb proved to be just as hard as the first one. So did the last and easiest climb, which involved loose rocks, deep ruts, and an off-camber tabletop 90-degree turn at the top. Wheeeeeee!
Having completed the hardest section of the ride, we decided it was a fine time for a group photo. Meet the A-Team:
There was still a lot of riding left to do: We had a ridgeline to dance along, and a long descent of broad, sweeping turns that would bring us to Bouquet Canyon Road. Just across that was (—I was lying, before—) the hardest section of the ride, the dreaded, awe-inspiring, Whoop-de-doo-cluttered, motorcycle-part-strewn, single-track HELL that is Bouquet Canyon Trail.
There is a stream at the base of Bouquet Canyon Trail. I dunked my head in it before we started. BCT is a long and winding narrow climb through tall chaparral, and we were – as Gandalf noted when the Balrog showed up at the bridge in Khazad Dum – already weary. 
There is not a lot of room for error – come to think of it, there is not a lot of room to pass someone coming in the other direction. Better hope it’s not another boxer...
We left the staging area one at a time, with at least 30 seconds between each departure, to give us time to get out of the next rider’s way if we fell on the trail. We were all tired: This was
near the end of about 70 miles of unpaved terrain, not including the morning jaunt through HV 
(“Hungry Valley State Vehicular Recreation Area”, earlier), where we had recreated our vehicules about 6 hours prior. This trail requires almost constant modulation of clutch and brake levers; our hands were aching by the time we reached the ridgeline. One at a time we topped out successfully, and then added one 
last climb, just cuz: We rode another steep rutted ascent to the top of the peak nearest the BCT.
As riders finished the climb, they gathered in the grass to watch others come up. Steve just couldn’t get enough, rode back down and did the last one again…
… almost running me over in the process. Ah, the thrills of action photography.
From our mountaintop we could see down into Rowher Flats Off-Highway Vehicle Area (“RF,” if I am ever unfortunate enough to have to mention it again). We could also see across to the main RF staging area, and most of the climb out the RF entrance road, and even some of the paved roadway leading us from RF to the 14 freeway. We began to head down (into RF), but the trail was temporarily annexed by a gaggle of cagers. It took a few minutes to realize that being faster and in back is hopeless if they are wider in front, after which point we gathered on the side of the road to watch the jeeps descend, enjoy the view, chit chat about the great freakin’ ride we had, and discuss where we should go for dinner.
A few minutes later we were racing down into RF, and shortly after that began racing up Texas Trail on the way out of RF. Texas Trail is basically pretty easy, although it includes several steep moguls – actually giant water bars with concrete-reinforced tops. It must have been throttling over one of these that finally throttled my rear shock: There was a loud pop, followed by a brief gushing sound and a sense of contact on my right foot. I rode up the rest of the short trail, and stopped at the flat top, in the staging area. It was already apparent from the ride of the bike that something was wrong. I got off and had a look:
The fluid canister for the rear shock had blown out, dumping its oil on my right foot. I was still standing there when the next rider came up behind me.
“Did you see that big splash of oil back there? Somebody is hating it – oh, its you.”
I think about three riders came up the trail, one at a time, and said almost the same thing.
As it happened, the exit road out of RF was the last of the unpavement. Each bump was a major issue. The bike rattled and shook, the suspension bottomed out, the rear fender whacked against the tire – and this was at walking speed.
On the pavement though, it wasn’t bad: Imagine you’ve managed to get a saddle on a sprinting kangaroo…
We aired back up at a gas station on Fwy 14 near Sand Canyon. We were all headed for Ventura, and decided to go to Fillmore for dinner. We went to El Pescador. It was a good choice. I had the fish.
Phil showed up on his scathing crotch-rocket of a Beemer. We jawed about the ride, dissected dinner, and tossed back margritas and Negro Modelos in what can only be described – this being, after all, a blog about driving motor vehicles – as an incredibly responsible manner. Great ride, great dinner, we even had a great lunch, back there somewhere. We’ll have to do this again, soon!
Just lemme do something about this shock…
Where was I? Oh yes; trying to figure out where I was. Here I was; at the shop at 7 am. I’m the guy on the far, far right (– or left – all the way around, back behind the camera)…
There were 15 of us in all. Here’s who’s who and on what:
Arne Anselm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .BMW R100 GS
Steven Atkin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW Dakar
Dan Baake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Suzuki DRZ 650
Chris Craig . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW R100 GS
Angela Deubel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yamaha TW 200
Doug Ford . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW Dakar
Dan Goldstien . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW HP-2
Don Gordon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW 1200 GS
Scott Huelskamp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . KTM 950 Adv
Jim Janssen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . KTM 950 Adv
Craig Leonard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .BMW 1200GS Adv
Calvin Morrison . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Husqvarna TE 610
Dan Taylor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Suzuki DRZ 400
Eric Wetherbee . . . . . . . . . . Suzuki DL650 V-Strom
Phil Wren . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW F650 GS
Steven Atkin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW Dakar
Dan Baake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Suzuki DRZ 650
Chris Craig . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW R100 GS
Angela Deubel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yamaha TW 200
Doug Ford . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW Dakar
Dan Goldstien . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW HP-2
Don Gordon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW 1200 GS
Scott Huelskamp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . KTM 950 Adv
Jim Janssen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . KTM 950 Adv
Craig Leonard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .BMW 1200GS Adv
Calvin Morrison . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Husqvarna TE 610
Dan Taylor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Suzuki DRZ 400
Eric Wetherbee . . . . . . . . . . Suzuki DL650 V-Strom
Phil Wren . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . BMW F650 GS
Gary at the shop opened up for us, bringing treats for all as usual. After filling up on doughnuts and 100% Columbian Blend Genuine BMW Motorcycles of Ventura County Hot Cocoa, we headed for the hills via Hwy 118, thence to Hwy 126 via Grimes Grade. I managed to jam in a signature weird Laine-ish parenthetical un-paved detour (“SWELIPUD”, in the future) early on; we took the culvert underpass beneath Hwy 126 at Piru, as seen in DSR 03.
This is an ideal shortcut; it provides dirt, a descent, mud, darkness, river rocks, and an off-cambered climb, all in just a few hundred feet; it takes far more time than the usual route, and it leads us in the wrong direction.
Regardless of my attempts to get us lost, we eventually found the Castaic gas station where we picked up Dan Taylor and Phil Wren. From here we launched off on one of my all-time favourite SWELIPUDs. This one is a couple miles long and – on the route we chose – includes a couple water crossings. Here’s some pictures of one of the water crossings:
Here’s some pictures of Eric Wetherbee taking a real close look at the riding surface just beyond one of the water crossings.
It’s always fun when Eric takes a break from riding. I hope that his recent exchange of the V-Strom for a DR 650 doesn’t preclude any more impromptu stops...
A short trip up I-5 brought us to another one of my all-time favourite SWELIPUDs (“ALTISPUDs”, in the future); this one involves – in the space of an offramp and an onramp – a large pond, beautiful chaparral-covered hills, and often – as in this case – fishermen. Jim Janssen led the climb-out from this detour on his orange KTM:Another mile or so on I-5 brought us to this sight:
Steve Atkin and Angie Deubel opted to meet us here, at the offramp for the southern entrance to Hungry Valley State Vehicular Recreational Area (“the SVRA”, in the future). How they carry that mattress on the Dakar is a marvel of aftermarket rack design. When we arrived, Steve was taking a catnap while Angie was off refueling "The Peanut". We waited around until she pulled off the freeway, whipping the Yamaha TW 200 like a weary Shetland pony, and then headed for the SVRA (“HV”, in the future).
We used HV trails to basically parallel I-5 to Gorman. There was a lot of sand, and some moguls. At one point, Eric rode up to me after about 4 miles of such terrain. He had a big grin: “I’ve never ridden in sand before!” He said. He thought it was fun. On his V-Strom. I love that. The bike is so low you got to get a shovel to reach the pegs, and Eric loves sandy moguls. That is so, cool.
Next came a short but steep and winding climb, and our first bout of bad luck (you can’t count Eric falling over at the river crossing; that was good luck): We gathered at the base of the climb, where I warned about its steepness. Then we started up. So it worked out that just about half way up, the group of us that had gathered at the bottom met a group of dirt bike riders on their way down. 
Five of them, two on quads. I heard later that one of the quads slid into and knocked over one of the dirt bikers. This might be how things started to go awry, but however it happened, by the time Dan Goldstein got to the center of the climb, it was completely blocked off by a group of the stalled and confused. On an HP-2, I would think you could just ride over an obstacle like that, but Dan came to a complete stop, slid backwards a bit, and finally fell over on himself. Sadly, no footage of this spectacle exists; for a pretty good image of a tweaked ankle, though, check out this pic from DSR 04.Doug was still at the bottom of the climb with Dan. They went back to the pavement together, where Dan headed home for a little ice and R & R, and Doug took the pavement in the other direction and headed us off at the pass.
One down and 13 to go, and we gathered up at Gorman to refuel. We discovered that Phil Wren’s leprotic bike is, in fact, incurable: He'd just got the beak back on, after taking it off on DSR 07, and now his license plate bracket had fallen off -- again.
From Gorman we headed into the Angeles National Forest (“Sherwood Forest”, hereafter).
On this ride we began using a formation suggested by Steve and Angela after DSR 07: It was working very well. Whenever I came to an intersection, I would
post the rider following me at that intersection, to direct other riders. When the sweep rider arrived at the intersection, the posted rider would continue just in front of the sweeper. We also developed signals for the posted rider to use in the event that there are two acceptable options, one being harder, and one being (get this) easier. Here, for instance, you can see riders exiting what looks like a granite-strewn riverbed, with a perfectly fine fire road right next door. This is where the two options came together again. Funny – nobody took the other option…
From this point we had some awesome canyon riding, past where the rival gang of riders gave us such a hard time last month (see the DSR 07 Recap). The 
canyon riding dumped us onto the Old Ridge Route Road, which provides panoramic views of the area, from a road surface as variable as – well, as variable as Δ[(X+Φ)/Y(5X-Φ)]. From the Ridge Route, we climbed onto the other ridge, following the mountains toward Soledad.
We’d been at it for a while, when it became clear that we were approaching one of the highest points along the ridgeline. I decided it was time to introduce a totally new practice to the Series, one which I came up with myself and am – considering how well it went – quite proud of: We stopped for a brief lunch break.
Dan Baake took post on the road, to make sure nobody flew on by and starved to death, and one by one riders pulled into an open and partly shaded area providing a broad vista of Lucerne Valley.
After lunch the ridgeline began to descend. Soon we were mucking about in rural Lake Hughes, looking for a two-foot wide hole in a ceanothus bush (see the DSR 07 Recap). We eventually found it, rode through, and began to climb back up into the mountains.
The road in this section meanders along just below several peaks, and there are often side trails that go to and over the peaks themselves. Most of these trails are challenging. We found one that provided a steep, straight, fairly long climb up loose, rocky terrain. It also provides a run-up that is marginal at best; short, loose, with obstructed vision of the climb. Researching this ride some months ago, I slid a significant ways down this hill. It had been beyond my ability – I found out a little late – to descend. But the Series is paying off: Tossing sharp rocks from my knobbies all the way, I launched upward with only minor trepidation, and with a little effort and assiduousness, managed to attain the vertex unscathed – except for the minor case of sesquipedality, which I am told will pass before I have to write the next Recap.
Anyway, it was really after the top, waiting to see if anyone else managed to make it up, that the trepidation part set in. Would the ride end in a heap, half way up that climb? But in no time, Phil pulled up behind me. It was great to share the experience of success on such a committing climb! Several other riders tried the climb, with varying degrees of success; Chris Craig went down near the top, but with a little help was rubber side down again in short order. Onward!
Again we descended the ridgeline, this time ending up on San Francisquito Canyon Road. Things were going really well. Riders gathered on the roadside as they finished the descent, and took a brief break before the next leg. Suddenly the radio (which we remembered, this time) crackled to life. It was Don “So Cool” Gordon: “I rode off the single-track back here. Stuck in a ditch…” Being the experienced and concerned ride leader I am, I sprang instantly into action. I grabbed the rider closest to me, screaming critical directives in his plug-filled and helmet-covered ear:
“Quick Doug! Take this camera and get a shot of Don before he gets up!”
Thank goodness I’ve trained for moments like that one. Sadly, there was a problem with with the auto focus. But here it is:
Arne Anselm went over to help
as well, which was good; watching Don get his bike turned around was definitely a job for two, and we still needed a cameraman. So I went over and took the unit from Doug:Meantime, Calvin Morrison had seen Scott Huelskamp parked where the trail crosses San Fran Road, assumed that I had continued on, and raced off. He was long gone by the time we splinted So-Cool’s broken bones, morphined him up, and got him ready to ride. We set out after Calvin, paralleling the road to the south. We met him within a mile – he had realized his error and turned back. Reunited, we began again to ascend – this time, toward the dreaded, awe-inspiring, mogul-infested, rock-cluttered and motorcycle-part-strewn HELL that is House Trail.
Well, there’s not that many parts laying around…
This trail has three short impossible sections – or had: we are officially downgrading them to highly improbable, as of 04/01/2007. For the first and hardest section, I rode to the top, and we waited for riders to gather at the bottom before sending riders up one at a time. This way, we were veritably assured of good pictures, and everybody got to watch, point, and laugh.
First up was Doug Ford. He set up well…
… but began to have difficulties a little before the midpoint…
… which inspired him to pull out all the stops,really wowing the crowd in the process…
… a tactic which nevertheless led
to the eventual demise of his climb attempt.
to the eventual demise of his climb attempt.
Arne picked a sweet line with his R100…
… and Steve followed the same line
so quick I almost missed him.
so quick I almost missed him.
Angie came up in great form. Sadly, I just missed her jumping a mogul. Imagine this exact shot, but she’s 2-3 feet off the ground:Dan and Calvin made it look easy on their more enduro-ish bikes…
… and then Don one-upped them by making it look easy on his 1200 GS:And the rest of ‘em all WENT HOME from San Francisquito road! Can you believe it? So – if you went home, you have to stop reading about 10 pictures back. You have to miss the final climbs. You have to miss the jeep convoy, the exploding shock, and the ugly dead fish. What’s more, you are NOT on the A-Team (Except Scott, cuz he was on it for DSR 05 and once you are on it, you never ain’t again. And except for Phil, in part: You can read about the fish, Phil. [Phil Wren went home early, apparently so he could whip out his K1200 S, rejoin us for dinner, and cause us to cringe in fear at the sound of his engine. He joined us for part of the postprandial homeward ride, but we couldn’t get him beyond lugging it in second at like, 70, or something.]
Where – as I have so often asked – was I?
Oh yes. The hardest part of House Trail was over and done, and I was just about to watch Angie do this:
This is the second climb on House. The first climb was curved and mogul-covered; this one is straight, and covered in loose dirt and rocks. This slightly easier climb proved to be just as hard as the first one. So did the last and easiest climb, which involved loose rocks, deep ruts, and an off-camber tabletop 90-degree turn at the top. Wheeeeeee!
Having completed the hardest section of the ride, we decided it was a fine time for a group photo. Meet the A-Team:
There was still a lot of riding left to do: We had a ridgeline to dance along, and a long descent of broad, sweeping turns that would bring us to Bouquet Canyon Road. Just across that was (—I was lying, before—) the hardest section of the ride, the dreaded, awe-inspiring, Whoop-de-doo-cluttered, motorcycle-part-strewn, single-track HELL that is Bouquet Canyon Trail.
There is a stream at the base of Bouquet Canyon Trail. I dunked my head in it before we started. BCT is a long and winding narrow climb through tall chaparral, and we were – as Gandalf noted when the Balrog showed up at the bridge in Khazad Dum – already weary. 
There is not a lot of room for error – come to think of it, there is not a lot of room to pass someone coming in the other direction. Better hope it’s not another boxer...
We left the staging area one at a time, with at least 30 seconds between each departure, to give us time to get out of the next rider’s way if we fell on the trail. We were all tired: This was
near the end of about 70 miles of unpaved terrain, not including the morning jaunt through HV 
(“Hungry Valley State Vehicular Recreation Area”, earlier), where we had recreated our vehicules about 6 hours prior. This trail requires almost constant modulation of clutch and brake levers; our hands were aching by the time we reached the ridgeline. One at a time we topped out successfully, and then added one 
last climb, just cuz: We rode another steep rutted ascent to the top of the peak nearest the BCT.
As riders finished the climb, they gathered in the grass to watch others come up. Steve just couldn’t get enough, rode back down and did the last one again…
… almost running me over in the process. Ah, the thrills of action photography.
From our mountaintop we could see down into Rowher Flats Off-Highway Vehicle Area (“RF,” if I am ever unfortunate enough to have to mention it again). We could also see across to the main RF staging area, and most of the climb out the RF entrance road, and even some of the paved roadway leading us from RF to the 14 freeway. We began to head down (into RF), but the trail was temporarily annexed by a gaggle of cagers. It took a few minutes to realize that being faster and in back is hopeless if they are wider in front, after which point we gathered on the side of the road to watch the jeeps descend, enjoy the view, chit chat about the great freakin’ ride we had, and discuss where we should go for dinner.
A few minutes later we were racing down into RF, and shortly after that began racing up Texas Trail on the way out of RF. Texas Trail is basically pretty easy, although it includes several steep moguls – actually giant water bars with concrete-reinforced tops. It must have been throttling over one of these that finally throttled my rear shock: There was a loud pop, followed by a brief gushing sound and a sense of contact on my right foot. I rode up the rest of the short trail, and stopped at the flat top, in the staging area. It was already apparent from the ride of the bike that something was wrong. I got off and had a look:
The fluid canister for the rear shock had blown out, dumping its oil on my right foot. I was still standing there when the next rider came up behind me.“Did you see that big splash of oil back there? Somebody is hating it – oh, its you.”
I think about three riders came up the trail, one at a time, and said almost the same thing.
As it happened, the exit road out of RF was the last of the unpavement. Each bump was a major issue. The bike rattled and shook, the suspension bottomed out, the rear fender whacked against the tire – and this was at walking speed.
On the pavement though, it wasn’t bad: Imagine you’ve managed to get a saddle on a sprinting kangaroo…
We aired back up at a gas station on Fwy 14 near Sand Canyon. We were all headed for Ventura, and decided to go to Fillmore for dinner. We went to El Pescador. It was a good choice. I had the fish.
Phil showed up on his scathing crotch-rocket of a Beemer. We jawed about the ride, dissected dinner, and tossed back margritas and Negro Modelos in what can only be described – this being, after all, a blog about driving motor vehicles – as an incredibly responsible manner. Great ride, great dinner, we even had a great lunch, back there somewhere. We’ll have to do this again, soon!
Just lemme do something about this shock…
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