DS Overnight 01 - May '07 - Recap

DUAL SPORT OVERNIGHT RIDE:

ROCK FRONT LOOP

What . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dualsport Overnight, 1.5 days
When . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Meet Saturday, 12 May, 2:00 PM
Return late Sunday, 13 May
Where . . . . . . . . . . . . . Meet @ BMW Motorcycles of VC

DS OVERNIGHT 01: RECAP

All right, I’m going to try to shut up and let the photos do most of the talking, this time:

We gathered at BMW of Ventura, we gathered in Oxnard, we gathered in Santa Paula, but the group wasn’t complete until we reached the 76 station in Ojai:

Steve Atkin . . . . . . . . . . . . R1150 GS
John Rennell. . . . . . . . .BMW Dakar
Angela Deubel. . . . . . . .BMW Dakar
Dan Taylor. . . . . . . . BMW R100 GS
Terry Eannetta. . . . . . KTM 950 Adv
Eric Wetherbee. . . . .Suzuki DR 650
Jim Janssen. . . . . . . . KTM 950 Adv
Dan Goldstien. . . . . . . . .BMW HP-2

We took it fairly easy heading up Hwy 33. Dan Goldstien, just behind me, practiced countersteering his HP:


It was a change of scenery, all those panniers. Even on the DR (middle)!:


Dan Taylor and Angie Deubel weaving up lower Hwy 33:


Just ahead was a rider new to the series; John Rennel:


Eric Wetherbee was still waiting on his large capacity tank. Nice strap-on, there, pal:


Jim Janssen looked ready to go all the way to San Francisco – which is exactly what he did, after a day or so with the group:


Dan G. was the only pannier-less participant. Do they even make racks for that beast yet?


Working to reel in Steve Atkin, just past Sespe Wall on Hwy 33:


Meantime Steve was lounging near the front of the group, loping along easily at unpublishable speeds:


Distracted by paparazzi, Steve relaxes on the throttle as Dan pulls up:


Meanwhile, Terry Eannetta was leading the party, quite a ways ahead:


At this point we reached the top of Hwy 33. I put the camera away for the winding descent into Cuyama Valley. After those tight descending turns, the long straights of the Valley beg you to open up the throttle. Here Angie, Dan G., and John pick up the pace just after dropping out of the twisties:


Here comes Jim:


It wasn’t long before we were gathering at our first stop; the Santa Barbara Pistachio Company:



















And it wasn’t long after that we were off again. The next leg provided a riverbed option, which I warned vehemently against, due to the insanely loose sand one often finds in riverbeds. Regardless, Angie and Steve decided to give it a whirl. Angie almost failed to actually reach the riverbed, but she managed to look fetching in the process:


“I always park like this. Kickstands are for wussies.”:


Once the approach was over, the actual riverbed looked more stable than I have ever seen it. Not much traffic since the last rains:


“Just try to stay up over 22, 23 miles an hour! It’s easier that way!" Angie took off first:


Steve followed just behind:


We approached the exit point a few short miles later, to find the photographers waiting:


Out of the riverbed on Foothill Rd., we zipped the 6 miles northeast to the town of Cuyama, our first fuel stop. What was shaping up to be a fairly mundane ride became considerably more interesting when, at almost 6 pm, we pulled up to the only gas station in the area to find it closed – for the week. Our options included the gas we could have got at the Pistachio company – but that closed in about 5 minutes, and we were about 12 miles away. There is also a station in Maricopa – about 28 miles in the wrong direction, when we have about 20 miles to go in the right direction, some in dirt, before reaching camp. Or, about 17 miles beyond the turnoff for our camp, the 101 freeway would surely provide us with a station.

We opted to go make camp first, and do a fuel run at night – riding at night sounded more fun than setting up camp in the dark. We road conservatively for several miles down the valley, and after a short ride into the hills, found a completely empty camping area:


We set up camp, and after a few minutes rest and a huge group mental burst of arithmetic, we realized that there were only one or two of us who absolutely had to get more fuel, and we could likely shuffle fuel from tank to tank with Dan G.’s siphon, so even that problem seemed soluble without a fuel run. We settled in and broke out the cleaning products:


Good thing so many of us brought whiskey, or we never would have held out until the mint juleps got mixed! Which reminds me; we had all kinds of treats out on the table:


Steve overdosed early on the wheat thins, and eventually had to be slapped around and sedated:


Dan G. entertained us by riding around camp on his HP in various stages of undress… For the really good shots, go to www.iLOVEmybmwhp-2.com. Send the kids to bed first:


I thought it would be nice to have an actual campfire and so – unbeknownst to all – my panniers were both half-filled with firewood. Little did I know… Did you notice the pile of downed tree branches in the center of the parking area? Rats! I could’ve brought more BOOZE! At least we got to hang around the campfire and chat:













































In the morning, I woke up and saw this:


And seriously thought about skipping breakfast just to get out and ride. My camo hovel was surrounded by bikes in need of riders:


The feeling eased a little, and we all ended up starting slow, making a relaxed morning of it;


Many of us were low on water. Terry and Eric and I went on an early ride to a small stream to refill some water containers:


Uh, we took the long way back to camp:


Lift a man’s front tire… and he’ll put a milk crate under his engine. Teach a man to wheelie and he’ll smile for a lifetime:


… He’s doing that wheelie thing again…


Arriving back at camp we did another group burst of mental arithmetic and came to the conclusion that we were doomed if we didn’t go out to the 101 for fuel. Terry, Eric and I went, taking the two spare fuel containers the group brought:


Jim took this opportunity to depart for San Francisco – this way we could ride together just a little longer:


We fueled up in Nipomo after waving goodbye to Jim at the offramp:


... and raced back to camp, at which point it was time to make lunch, pack and start the homeward journey. Honestly, we hardly scratched the surface of what the area had to offer in the way of trails.

Dan T. had opted to go for a morning hike, but was ready for the upcoming ride:


We got all packed up and took a last look at the camp site:


Before Terry lead us back out to Hwy 166:


John (the new guy) seemed to be having little trouble with the terrain:




And Angie showed how to washout the front end – without falling:


Here’s the group waiting at an intersection for the photographer to get his act together:


At Hwy 166 I gave the usual group formation talk – mostly for John, since everybody else has ridden with VCDS before. I tend to ramble, but the gist is; I’ll be in front, there will be someone at every intersection to direct you, the sweeper will be in back, if you get out from between me and the sweeper, well, you must be on some other ride… About a hundred yards down 166 we were done with pavement for the next few hours: We headed up Sierra Madre Ridge:

Some of the riders knew the intersection we were heading for, and opted to pass me and make for it. I ended up following Dan G.:


We gathered at the second 3-way on the ridge for a break:


From here, we would be heading south and downhill, into the mountains between Cuyama and Santa Ynez valleys. In a few minutes, we had all re-mounted and swung around one-by one in a series of graceful 540 degree turns that saw us down the right road… Except for Dan G., who at the last minute cut across in front of the sweep rider and carried on up the ridgeline. Angie (who was sweeping at the time) waited for about 10 minutes before following us down. It must have been almost a half an hour before I got a radio message about it. I stopped in a grove of Red Shanks as John caught up to me. I could see the descent from the ridge behind him:


We waited for quite a while, trying to raise Dan G. on the radio and on his phone. Not a peep. I spent some of the wait photographing the natives. This is one of my favourites – Trichostema lanatum (Wooly Blue Curls):


After about an hour we gave up hope, built a small rock cairn as a memorial, and carried on. The locals’ kids came out now and then to greet us:


Once down in the canyons, the water – I mean, the rock – crossings began:
















Some were a little wet:

















But by far the biggest challenge was the rocks. Angie got a little stuck at one point:
















It was a long mountain crossing, but we eventually came out of the wilds, some ways north of the Santa Ynez Valley, in Tepesquet Canyon. We took a much needed rest at the egress:


And stopped again, shortly after resuming the ride, to admire some deer grazing in a broad green field:


If you look closely by the tree at center – those aren’t deer; they’re turkeys!


The wide valleys heading south toward Los Olivos provide some beautiful riding. At least, Eric seemed to enjoy it:


It wasn’t long before we pulled in to Los Olivos:


The deli had just closed, but we created an approximation of lunch for ourselves, while pondering our next move:


Steve, Angie, and John, decided to head for home:


Terry, Eric and I headed back into the hills!



















There is a gorgeous climb up Figueroa Mountain that starts right at Los Olivos. It wasn’t long before we were up in the pine belt:


I had wanted to include this somewhat challenging, narrow OHV trail in a previous DSR in this area, and we had run out of time. The three of us descended it with panniers with little trouble:


It was a gorgeous late afternoon. The fading orange light on distant hills was worth the entire ride:




























We were hating every minute of it:


The A-Team was whittled down pretty small – only three of us this time (not counting that beautiful manzanita):


Terry was the cleanest looking of the bunch, so I made a quick portrait:


And we continued to wind our way down into the valley below:


At bottom, there were oaks and sycamores:


And evil snarling deer with glowing eyes:


Actually, she was probably glad we came by: She had a fawn, and we scared off a bobcat just before we spotted her.

We pulled into Santa Barbara on fumes, in the dark, and gassed up at the first station we found:


We had a late dinner, and tried again to get hold of Dan G. It was about 10 pm when I finally got hold of him. He was the first one home: By the time he had realized his error, he didn’t have enough fuel to go hunting for us. He coasted down another descent into Cuyama Valley that comes out on Hwy 166 near the town – which, you will remember, had no gas. He headed for the Pistachio Company, and about 5 minutes before they closed, he ran out of gas with a hundred yards to go. He pushed in, fueled up, and – somewhat the worse for wear – headed homeward on Hwy 33.
The next morning I realized that the ride was over, and there had only been one causualty:


We’ll have to do that again. Only longer, next time!