And hot. And tired. I contemplate taking the bike apart to carry it up the last 80-ft. I figure the frame/engine combo would still be too heavy for the slope. I think about just removing the front end, letting the bike balance on the skid plate and rear wheel, hoping I could drag the pig up. But time was wasting. If I started down the path of piece-by-piece, I'd be out there for another two hours at least. If I press the 'Help' button on the SPOT, I know that my Dad is at least two hours away from me. And we all had plans to go play miniature golf that evening.
At 14:50, I hit the 'Help' button.
I secured the bike, checked the bags for anything I may need for the walk, and potential night, out of there. I left my body armor, but did take my helmet, tool bag and riding jacket. Best case was I was going to get a ride back in to retrieve the bike with some help, so I'd need riding gear. Walking up the last of steep part of the hill, I finish off the hydration bladder. It took me about an hour to walk out the 1 1/2 miles of ATV trail uphill to get back to Twin Valley Road. I did this for three reasons. One, nobody in a car/truck could get to where I was at. Two, I wasn't about to just sit in the sun and turn in to jerky. At least there was shade back at the road. Three, I wanted my support people watching at home to know I was OK by continuing to move. And just maybe, I can catch a ride with someone just going my direction...
Once at Twin Valley Road (and familiar territory), I stop to take a breather. After 10-minutes or so, I say fuck it, and start walking again. It gives me something to focus on. I continue to play with the gps as I trudge along in my gear. The helmet, jacket and tool bag got too heavy and awkward to carry, so I just wore them. At around 17:30, with Bartlett Springs Road in sight, I see my Dad's pickup coming up the road to find me