NORTH LOS PADRES
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Photos by Nick Sinclair & Wayne Tidwell
“…And then there were none…”
- Paul “Capt. America” Beck
- Paul “Capt. America” Beck
Got off Scott free again in August. Just like July, temperatures were predicted to be in the 90’s, yet we had perfectly comfortable weather almost everywhere we went.
An even dozen set out from BMW Motorcycles of Ventura County for the August shop DS ride. You’ve gotta love a pastime in which the highly skilled practitioners and the first-time novices can all go out together and have a great time. Such was our group. Experienced slab riders almost entirely new to unpavement, veteran adventure riders bringing their own dust along with them, ex-dirt-bikers trying to figure out what to do with the extra 350 pounds, women comparing ways of handling the industry tendency to build bikes to fit men, and under them all, a host of interesting makes, models, and modifications.
It’s often hard to leave the shop; there’s always plenty to gab about, last minute items to grab off the shelves, another half a donut left in the box by the coffee machine. But sooner or later Captain America starts yelling “kickstands up!” and we begin to remember why we came. After a short pre-ride briefing we lined our idling bikes up against the curb across from the shop, waved a teary goodbye to manager Pete MacLachlan, and headed for the freeway.
We rode north to Hwy 33 at the west end of Ventura, getting comfortable in the group, comfortable with the bikes, loosening up. A short ways up 33 we made a quick fuel stop and picked up our pre-packaged lunches in Ojai, along with chef Rachel Main, the caterer, who sometimes rides with us.
33 was beautiful as ever – except for the flatbed driver who seemed to want to push Wayne Tidwell off the far road shoulder rather than let him pass. Wayne didn’t care, really; “Plenty of space in the dirt on the shoulder…” It’s good to be a GS rider.
Next came the rice-burner blazing past our lead group in a straightaway, inches off. He was allowed to pull away a little, before he got reeled in, but after it became clear that the leaders of our group were cornering faster on their TKC 80’s than the crotch-rocketeer was on his street bike, interest dropped. There was too much scenery to enjoy, and that required slower riding. The group eventually pulled off at a turnout at the top of the pass leading into the Cuyama Valley. It was not long before the whole group was enjoying the view of the mountains to the north, grabbing snacks, and taking off layers now that the day was heating up.
Lockwood Valley Road is always good for a surprise or two, whether it’s a deer in the road, a washout, or water in the river crossings. This time it was sand & gravel in the corners, and one section, just around a bend at the top of a rise, where the road was completely gone, replaced with an expanse of dirt and small rocks. Just after this point the road descends into Lockwood Valley, but before it did, we turned off to begin the first unpaved portion of the day.
A short, narrow, twisty climb covered in tarmac lead to a turnout beyond which the pavement was replaced by manicured gravel. After a short stop at the turnout we set off into the wilds. We were fairly widely spaced, because of the dust. The scenery became a patchwork of pine forest, green meadow, and chaparral. Quail dodged off the road as we rounded turns. The road reached the edge of a high, tree-covered plateau, overlooking a low wide valley, the road visible below, ribonning along the edge of a meadow before disappearing into tall trees.
Dan Genter & Kurt Heidolf both took the first water crossing with considerable speed. It turned out to be quite deep; from the sound of things, Dan got a little water in the old air box. We have learned that the air box opening is a little low on the R1200GS; take care in the water crossings, and just in case, make sure your tool kit has the deep socket you need for removing the spark plugs.
Deep & rocky though it was, the entire group managed the crossing without serious mishap. We were in an area of road spurs that lead to camping or hiking areas. We followed a spur or two, enjoying the feel of the air, of the gentle roll of the terrain passing underneath us, the smell of trees. Near the end of one spur is a group of small camping areas interspersed among tall Jeffrey pines. We chose this as our lunch stop.
There is a trick involved in getting to this camp. That trick is the deep sand at the intersection where the spur leading to the camp leaves the main road. Of course, there is another trick as well, and that is the rocky dry crossing just beyond the sand. Then, after the short steep climb with ruts and silt, you are home free.
Someone has to be sacrificed to the dual sport gods on each ride and this time it was Cris Jones. Cris has a plethora of paved riding experience, and this was just about his first time seeing how that translated into dirt language. Not with total clarity, apparently; the sand he handled, the rocky crossing he crossed, yet the silted ruts on the steep section claimed their offering.
The nice thing about falling in silt is that everybody sees the huge plume of dust. On our rides, since everyone sees that you went down, that means you usually end up with plenty of help getting up. In this case, the immediate stop in the shade for lunch was an added benefit; it’s always nice to take a breather after picking up an adventure bike.
There was a lot of chitchat over lunch. What sticks in my mind most is Sienna Bourke’s tale of going from experienced street rider to inexperienced but highly motivated dual sport rider; with just 2-3 dual sport rides under her belt, she has scheduled to participate in a multi-day enduro ride in South America this Autumn.
Our lunch stop appears to be the end of the line, road-wise, but in fact there is a trail that continues on for quite a ways. In fact, one could actually reach Frazier Park, or even I-5, from where we were – southwest of Lockwood Valley – without touching pavement. You just have to be a really good rider, is all. A few of us decided to do a little recon, before we packed up and left lunch in search of whatever was to come after. We went down the trail about a quarter of a mile. It seemed to turn into a narrow but easily navigable jeep trail – just after the dry sandy stream crossing with the huge embedded boulders. Which came just after the gravelly bit with the 20 feet of jagged bedrock and large loose stones. Which came just after the silty stretch of single-track under the pine trees. Which came just after the deeply rutted water crossing with the near-vertical climb-out on one side. Which was just round the bend from the deep mixed sand & silt climb-out from the previous water crossing, which was merely a field of small rocks hidden under 6 inches of water.
Interestingly enough, it seemed that all of us who went to have a look actually wanted to continue on… but we had other fish to fry. We rode back through the narrow gravelly stretch with the 20 feet of jagged bedrock and large loose stones, the silty single-track bit under the pine trees, the deeply rutted water crossing with the near-vertical climb-out on one side, and the deep mixed sand & silt climb-out from the previous water crossing, which was merely a field of small rocks hidden under 6 inches of water, and rejoined the main group, which then, en masse, had a great time riding back out through the first water crossing and the valleys and up the winding climb to the plateau and past the nervous, fluttering quail, and down the winding narrow paved road, back to Lockwood Valley, which we descended into and crossed, heading for Frazier Park.
Before reaching Frazier Park, we made a hard left at Cuddy Valley, and ended up riding through the mountain-resort-ish town of Pine Mountain Club. After a fuel stop we continued northwest on pavement and soon began to descend. Before we had gone too far, though, we turned on Quatal Canyon Road.
Quatal Canyon has broad appeal. The main drag is unpaved; a fire road at its eastern end, it winds down the side of a narrow canyon until it reaches the floor of the broader valley below, where it becomes a wide, graded dirt road surrounded by forest. This section is almost all straight as a die, with a turn every 5 miles or so for good measure. There are innumerable large water bars along the road, which are fun at any speed, and of great use at higher speeds if you have a desire to get your tires off the ground. As the road nears the Cuyama Valley it becomes a veritable unpaved freeway; wide, well packed, regularly watered & tended, It leads down with gentle turns through chaparral and into vineyards, before ending beside a lonesome shade tree at its intersection with Hwy 33.
If none of that is your cup of tea, there are other options. Numerous unpaved side spurs exist, generally going nowhere, which can be a nice place to visit on an adventure bike. There is also the riverbed, which is a designated Forest trail. The riverbed trail leaves the main trail just before the main trail leaves the twisty, hilly section. For some time, it appears nearly impossible to ride – just a trackless narrow dry creekbed. Further down, it becomes a jeep-wide sandy track in a slightly wider dry streambed. This eventually pours into a major (and usually dry) sandy riverbed, which affords a wide expanse of sand, sand, sand. Great riding – if you’ve uploaded your sand-riding skills module, that is.
We opted to split up where the trails split; for some distance, the two options parallel each other a short ways apart, allowing the fire road riders to watch from the comfort of their motorcycle seats as the others flail around in the creekbed. It was a perfect opportunity for the more experienced riders in search of a challenge to test their mettle, while others could relax, ride slow, and enjoy the entertainment.
The Captain & Wayne were shoe-ins for the creek route. Chef Rachel, Dan Genter, and Kurt Heidolf joined them. The rest of us rolled along the fire road, taking photos and passing remarks. Going was slow down there in the creek, and the riders got spread out pretty quickly. Soon it looked like Paul was down there all by himself. “And then there were none,” he said to himself, maneouvering through a tricky sandy section, no one in sight ahead or behind. A little further down, though, Rachel was waiting in the shade of a pinyon. The two carried on together, & I high-tailed it down the main road to check up on the rest of the group.
The plan was to regroup at Hwy 33, and under the shade tree at the intersection is where I found the rest of the now very dirty dozen. This was the beginning of the end, the last stop before the long leg toward Ojai & our homes beyond. It was clear by our parking job under the tree that the day’s riding had created a comfortable, cohesive group out of us. We relaxed there in the shade, snacking on lunch’s leftovers, oohing & ahhing about different high points of the day. Just when we started to be concerned with where our last 2 riders were, we saw dust on the road behind. It was Captain America, but sans Chef Rachel. Apparently, she had stopped to reattach her tail bag, and Paul had somehow come to the conclusion that she was in front of him. We waited several more minutes, but she failed to appear. Finally Wayne & I headed back, one to take the riverbed route, and one the main route. The person-hunt was on.
We had just hit freeway speeds when ahead of us, we again saw dust billowing on the long, straight final section of Quatal Canyon Road. It was clear in a moment that it was The Chef. Wayne & I about-faced and flanked her to the shade tree. She had thought The Captain was behind her, and had waited quite some time for him to catch up before she decided he might well be in front. She rode down the remaining 10 miles of riverbed alone. “It was a blast!”
After the stragglers had a bit of rest we cruised 33 southward in the afternoon light, bringing the ride to an easy, scenic close. Most of us stayed on in Ojai for an après-moto recovery stop at Antonio’s restaurant – but not Wayne; “I’ve got an off-the-grid cabin in northern Idaho. Leaving tomorrow morning.” He did say one other thing though: “I’ll be back in time for next month’s ride!”
An even dozen set out from BMW Motorcycles of Ventura County for the August shop DS ride. You’ve gotta love a pastime in which the highly skilled practitioners and the first-time novices can all go out together and have a great time. Such was our group. Experienced slab riders almost entirely new to unpavement, veteran adventure riders bringing their own dust along with them, ex-dirt-bikers trying to figure out what to do with the extra 350 pounds, women comparing ways of handling the industry tendency to build bikes to fit men, and under them all, a host of interesting makes, models, and modifications.It’s often hard to leave the shop; there’s always plenty to gab about, last minute items to grab off the shelves, another half a donut left in the box by the coffee machine. But sooner or later Captain America starts yelling “kickstands up!” and we begin to remember why we came. After a short pre-ride briefing we lined our idling bikes up against the curb across from the shop, waved a teary goodbye to manager Pete MacLachlan, and headed for the freeway.
We rode north to Hwy 33 at the west end of Ventura, getting comfortable in the group, comfortable with the bikes, loosening up. A short ways up 33 we made a quick fuel stop and picked up our pre-packaged lunches in Ojai, along with chef Rachel Main, the caterer, who sometimes rides with us.
33 was beautiful as ever – except for the flatbed driver who seemed to want to push Wayne Tidwell off the far road shoulder rather than let him pass. Wayne didn’t care, really; “Plenty of space in the dirt on the shoulder…” It’s good to be a GS rider.
Next came the rice-burner blazing past our lead group in a straightaway, inches off. He was allowed to pull away a little, before he got reeled in, but after it became clear that the leaders of our group were cornering faster on their TKC 80’s than the crotch-rocketeer was on his street bike, interest dropped. There was too much scenery to enjoy, and that required slower riding. The group eventually pulled off at a turnout at the top of the pass leading into the Cuyama Valley. It was not long before the whole group was enjoying the view of the mountains to the north, grabbing snacks, and taking off layers now that the day was heating up.Lockwood Valley Road is always good for a surprise or two, whether it’s a deer in the road, a washout, or water in the river crossings. This time it was sand & gravel in the corners, and one section, just around a bend at the top of a rise, where the road was completely gone, replaced with an expanse of dirt and small rocks. Just after this point the road descends into Lockwood Valley, but before it did, we turned off to begin the first unpaved portion of the day.
A short, narrow, twisty climb covered in tarmac lead to a turnout beyond which the pavement was replaced by manicured gravel. After a short stop at the turnout we set off into the wilds. We were fairly widely spaced, because of the dust. The scenery became a patchwork of pine forest, green meadow, and chaparral. Quail dodged off the road as we rounded turns. The road reached the edge of a high, tree-covered plateau, overlooking a low wide valley, the road visible below, ribonning along the edge of a meadow before disappearing into tall trees.Dan Genter & Kurt Heidolf both took the first water crossing with considerable speed. It turned out to be quite deep; from the sound of things, Dan got a little water in the old air box. We have learned that the air box opening is a little low on the R1200GS; take care in the water crossings, and just in case, make sure your tool kit has the deep socket you need for removing the spark plugs.Deep & rocky though it was, the entire group managed the crossing without serious mishap. We were in an area of road spurs that lead to camping or hiking areas. We followed a spur or two, enjoying the feel of the air, of the gentle roll of the terrain passing underneath us, the smell of trees. Near the end of one spur is a group of small camping areas interspersed among tall Jeffrey pines. We chose this as our lunch stop.There is a trick involved in getting to this camp. That trick is the deep sand at the intersection where the spur leading to the camp leaves the main road. Of course, there is another trick as well, and that is the rocky dry crossing just beyond the sand. Then, after the short steep climb with ruts and silt, you are home free.
Someone has to be sacrificed to the dual sport gods on each ride and this time it was Cris Jones. Cris has a plethora of paved riding experience, and this was just about his first time seeing how that translated into dirt language. Not with total clarity, apparently; the sand he handled, the rocky crossing he crossed, yet the silted ruts on the steep section claimed their offering.
The nice thing about falling in silt is that everybody sees the huge plume of dust. On our rides, since everyone sees that you went down, that means you usually end up with plenty of help getting up. In this case, the immediate stop in the shade for lunch was an added benefit; it’s always nice to take a breather after picking up an adventure bike.There was a lot of chitchat over lunch. What sticks in my mind most is Sienna Bourke’s tale of going from experienced street rider to inexperienced but highly motivated dual sport rider; with just 2-3 dual sport rides under her belt, she has scheduled to participate in a multi-day enduro ride in South America this Autumn.
Our lunch stop appears to be the end of the line, road-wise, but in fact there is a trail that continues on for quite a ways. In fact, one could actually reach Frazier Park, or even I-5, from where we were – southwest of Lockwood Valley – without touching pavement. You just have to be a really good rider, is all. A few of us decided to do a little recon, before we packed up and left lunch in search of whatever was to come after. We went down the trail about a quarter of a mile. It seemed to turn into a narrow but easily navigable jeep trail – just after the dry sandy stream crossing with the huge embedded boulders. Which came just after the gravelly bit with the 20 feet of jagged bedrock and large loose stones. Which came just after the silty stretch of single-track under the pine trees. Which came just after the deeply rutted water crossing with the near-vertical climb-out on one side. Which was just round the bend from the deep mixed sand & silt climb-out from the previous water crossing, which was merely a field of small rocks hidden under 6 inches of water.
Interestingly enough, it seemed that all of us who went to have a look actually wanted to continue on… but we had other fish to fry. We rode back through the narrow gravelly stretch with the 20 feet of jagged bedrock and large loose stones, the silty single-track bit under the pine trees, the deeply rutted water crossing with the near-vertical climb-out on one side, and the deep mixed sand & silt climb-out from the previous water crossing, which was merely a field of small rocks hidden under 6 inches of water, and rejoined the main group, which then, en masse, had a great time riding back out through the first water crossing and the valleys and up the winding climb to the plateau and past the nervous, fluttering quail, and down the winding narrow paved road, back to Lockwood Valley, which we descended into and crossed, heading for Frazier Park.Before reaching Frazier Park, we made a hard left at Cuddy Valley, and ended up riding through the mountain-resort-ish town of Pine Mountain Club. After a fuel stop we continued northwest on pavement and soon began to descend. Before we had gone too far, though, we turned on Quatal Canyon Road.
Quatal Canyon has broad appeal. The main drag is unpaved; a fire road at its eastern end, it winds down the side of a narrow canyon until it reaches the floor of the broader valley below, where it becomes a wide, graded dirt road surrounded by forest. This section is almost all straight as a die, with a turn every 5 miles or so for good measure. There are innumerable large water bars along the road, which are fun at any speed, and of great use at higher speeds if you have a desire to get your tires off the ground. As the road nears the Cuyama Valley it becomes a veritable unpaved freeway; wide, well packed, regularly watered & tended, It leads down with gentle turns through chaparral and into vineyards, before ending beside a lonesome shade tree at its intersection with Hwy 33.
If none of that is your cup of tea, there are other options. Numerous unpaved side spurs exist, generally going nowhere, which can be a nice place to visit on an adventure bike. There is also the riverbed, which is a designated Forest trail. The riverbed trail leaves the main trail just before the main trail leaves the twisty, hilly section. For some time, it appears nearly impossible to ride – just a trackless narrow dry creekbed. Further down, it becomes a jeep-wide sandy track in a slightly wider dry streambed. This eventually pours into a major (and usually dry) sandy riverbed, which affords a wide expanse of sand, sand, sand. Great riding – if you’ve uploaded your sand-riding skills module, that is.
We opted to split up where the trails split; for some distance, the two options parallel each other a short ways apart, allowing the fire road riders to watch from the comfort of their motorcycle seats as the others flail around in the creekbed. It was a perfect opportunity for the more experienced riders in search of a challenge to test their mettle, while others could relax, ride slow, and enjoy the entertainment.The Captain & Wayne were shoe-ins for the creek route. Chef Rachel, Dan Genter, and Kurt Heidolf joined them. The rest of us rolled along the fire road, taking photos and passing remarks. Going was slow down there in the creek, and the riders got spread out pretty quickly. Soon it looked like Paul was down there all by himself. “And then there were none,” he said to himself, maneouvering through a tricky sandy section, no one in sight ahead or behind. A little further down, though, Rachel was waiting in the shade of a pinyon. The two carried on together, & I high-tailed it down the main road to check up on the rest of the group.
The plan was to regroup at Hwy 33, and under the shade tree at the intersection is where I found the rest of the now very dirty dozen. This was the beginning of the end, the last stop before the long leg toward Ojai & our homes beyond. It was clear by our parking job under the tree that the day’s riding had created a comfortable, cohesive group out of us. We relaxed there in the shade, snacking on lunch’s leftovers, oohing & ahhing about different high points of the day. Just when we started to be concerned with where our last 2 riders were, we saw dust on the road behind. It was Captain America, but sans Chef Rachel. Apparently, she had stopped to reattach her tail bag, and Paul had somehow come to the conclusion that she was in front of him. We waited several more minutes, but she failed to appear. Finally Wayne & I headed back, one to take the riverbed route, and one the main route. The person-hunt was on.We had just hit freeway speeds when ahead of us, we again saw dust billowing on the long, straight final section of Quatal Canyon Road. It was clear in a moment that it was The Chef. Wayne & I about-faced and flanked her to the shade tree. She had thought The Captain was behind her, and had waited quite some time for him to catch up before she decided he might well be in front. She rode down the remaining 10 miles of riverbed alone. “It was a blast!”
After the stragglers had a bit of rest we cruised 33 southward in the afternoon light, bringing the ride to an easy, scenic close. Most of us stayed on in Ojai for an après-moto recovery stop at Antonio’s restaurant – but not Wayne; “I’ve got an off-the-grid cabin in northern Idaho. Leaving tomorrow morning.” He did say one other thing though: “I’ll be back in time for next month’s ride!”
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