|08-28-2003, 01:12 PM||#31|
Joined: May 2003
Location: BooBerry Holler
C'Mon, I been waitin' all day! Dumb monkey.
My other car was crushed by the Feds
AKA "Ham Steak" - Bumfucked Hillbillies MC
|08-28-2003, 06:15 PM||#33|
Joined: Mar 2002
S'ok - sorry for the delays - trivial things and important things interfering. The trivial things are, oh, finding (or making) a job, and making it appear as if I'm getting household honey-do's done. The important things are the next rev of OVAD which has humungous gobs of goodness - for everyone but VespaFitz. Has anyone told him he's bought the wrong kinda bike?
Lookin' good there Fitz! Move for camera! Woof! Yeah, baby!
Alright, we'll make some progress here tonight.
So you get up real early and run to Olympia. You were smart and are running a little more than 1/2 tank of gas - you're not really wanting to carry extra gals of fuel on the trail at 7lbs per. So you wanna try it up in transit. Funny thing though, you get to Fort Lewis and you look down and you see YELLOW. LOW FUEL! What da fuck? You pull of the freeway, and look over the machine? How do you burn 3 gals of fuel in 40 miles? You hunt down a gas pump and take on another 2 gallons. Odd, you're getting splashback. Turn on the bike and FUCK! You're nearly full now! Crap! 35 fucking pounds of gas!
Oh well, what's muscling another 4 bowling balls around on the trail? What are you, some sorta wuss! So on you go. Fuel gauge plays no more tricks, and you're down through Olympia and into the forest trying to find the staging area.
This is more difficult that it might seem because the instructions are "turn onto Waddell Creek Road, then just follow the signs!"
Well, the signs aren't up yet and Waddell Creek breaks off into fire roads that run all over the goddamn place. So, you just ride all over, trying to consume that extra gas. You see dozens of pickups loaded with bikes roosting and sliding down the fire roads - their drivers in various states of frenzy and anger as the clock ticks past registration time. And I was afraid of Crown Vics - nothing like a trip to the great outdoors to reacquaint you with real danger.
After half a dozen false starts I stop and ask Clevis and Jethro in their F250 mudderwagon if they know what's up. They done seen some motersickles down thataway. And sure enough. There it is.
You spot the registration table and you ride on over. Now you're rolling in looking like this...
So no one pays you any attention - I mean, it's not like you're even vaguely existing in their universe. So you hang around the registration table, hooting and gibbering and trying to get someone to pay attention to you...
And finally you just sorta bull your way in and ask for the event organizers. You wanna know if this is a death ride. They look at you and ask, "where's your bike?" You point at the GS. And they start to laugh. Then they realize you're serious. "Well, I'll go see if I can find
Word spreads fast. Lotta people lookin' at you askance, like you're some sort of escapee from the institution. After 20 minutes of standing around looking really conspicuous amongst the serious competitors who are all sized and muscled like flyweight boxers, dressed like something out of Starship Troopers, and riding machines that weigh less than your ABS system...
...you're told you can ride out to 2.9 to see what you think of the course. You see, one of the keys to enduros is that you DON'T know where the checkpoints are - it's the way the organizers try to outsmart the riders. But there are a couple of rules that govern the organizers - and one of them checkpoints MUST be at least 3.0 miles apart. So 2.9 doesn't disclose the foul plots of the race committee.
So, I strip the machine of bags, panniers, fairing, etc.. I leave on the mirrors and PIAAs. See, I'm still thinking this is some sort of dualsport ride. And out I go...
It starts off pretty nice...
Of course, they'll start you two up at this place, but, ride on, dude!
Geez, this is no worse than than Mom's driveway...
And, ok, well a nice little downhill with a couple of obstacles, still no problem...
A cute little bridge (no water crossing! Damn!) that's UH-OH. Shit - this is all high-speed two way traffic and that little fucker on the four wheeler coming at me ain't backin' off...
Intimidated by a toddler... Sheesh...
Then the obstacles start coming atcha faster. Still no prob. Lotsa lane there. Just choose wisely...
You're down near the trail head, it's flat and every 4 year old in existence has steered an ORV over this trail, so, keep going. It's getting softer, narrower, rootier...
But still not problem. A rut. Ok. Which side do you ride? Is that a trunk under that fern? (Shades of things to come.) If you gotta run the rut, how much clearance do you have?? (first doubt).
And here's the first really blind corner... Still no prob...
And a nice little high speed section...
Little did I know I'd be charging that at 30mph in a couple hours.
And a little bridge, shit, hope you remembered to turn the ABS off...
And the first little grade... As long as the lane stays that wide, there are plenty of options for charging the ravine...
And wow. Lookie this. They even pave the steeper uphills for you!
You're at 1.7. Shit, this is easy. Just a nice little ride through the forest. No need to run out to 2.9. Just turn around and go get prepped...
Of course, just around the corner was this...
Which was a closer approximation to things to come...
Moral? Always follow directions.
Oh, and, in a few minutes you're gonna be handed your ride chart and you're gonna realize that little putter you just took is gonna have to run at 4x speed.
But for now, the ride back is a blast, you're sliding the rear and swinging it around on throttle now you know the course. Oh, man. This is great!
|08-28-2003, 06:49 PM||#34|
Joined: May 2002
Location: San Fernando Valley
Mrs. Toad.... get me another beer!!!! I'm gonna be settin' in front of this here computer for quite some time reading about this adventure!!!!!
Mixing gas and haulin' ass.
Matchmaker of Homes and People
|08-28-2003, 06:54 PM||#35|
Joined: Mar 2002
So you get back - maybe with an uncomfortably close call with your mirrors and you prep the bike. Mirrors off. Lights off. Everything that can be off, gets off... And the MOHAWK goes on!
Then you walk over to register. You put your $20 down. The guy at the end of the table says "You're really gonna do this?" "Jesus, man, you got the biggest balls in this forest."
In your delusional state, you choose to take that as a compliment, rather than a dire warning. Moments later the man hops on a bike with plate number 2 on it, and rides off. Shit, that was advice from a single digit rider! But it's too late, your ego has committed you...
Good thing you brought that mohawk. Everyone thinks you're in on the joke. Hahahahaha. Haha. Ha. Umhmmm.
So you get your roll chart. You cut it and tape and start to slap it into your chart holder and - hey, wait a minute. The roll chart knobs are facing the throttle. Shit. Cut the zips, and rotate the chart holder so you can left hand it. Fuck, now the chart is upside down in the rollers. Unroll it. Reroll it. Munge the speed column. Crap...
Manditory Rider Meeting.
Mr Number 2, it turns out is an NMA ranked rider and he's officiating at the ride meeting. He's cluein' people into the enduro rules an this particular enduros speed requirements. "12 mph in the first section. Where's that guy with the BeeEmDoubleYou?"
Uh-oh, he's callin you out!
"You think you can make 12mph in that first section?"
Shit. You dunno - when you're up you can't see the speedo. You have no idea how fast you were going because you were absorbed in the trail. You panic.
"Ah, I'll try, and if I'm too slow, I'm make sure to get out of the way."
"Good man." He recites the rest of the rules. You loose points if you're late. You loose LOTS of points if you're early. You want to ride the course just as it's called out, which is impossible - one section marked 30mph can't be done at that speed - you'll have to make time up elsewhere. Also, if you're held up by a slower rider (everyone looks at you) you'll have to make time up somehow, while still hitting your time at the mystery checkpoints.
Ok. Safety and noise check... Fat Chance - you can't ride here on that big ol' FLHDHSLLKRJLKKRLSLRKE of yours here. Maybe next enduro, buddy....
So the bikes line up... 200's, 230's, 250's... Someone once began a ride report with "You know you're in trouble when you're surrounded by 450's." I respectfully disagree - you know you're in trouble when you're surrounded by 200cc two strokes...
So the joke at the sound test is that the Beemer isn't on the list, and, besides that, you can't even hear the damn thing over the chatter of 2strokes. This will make for some interesting problems in an hour or two...
You ask if there's a poll for when you'll 'hour out' of the race? The response is "Oh, there's not much betting, but you probably won't hour out before the first checkpoint."
This is Mr #3, with a proper sounding machine...
S'alright. Nothing to do but wait. You're on minute 15, meaning you start 15 minutes out. You eat a powerbar. You piss one, two, three, four times... You find out you're paired with a rider on a 250. You weren't lucky enough to get paired with this guy...
You tell him, to just ride ahead at the start, you're gonna be doublechecking your ABS and he'll probably just ride off and leave you anyway.
First riders out.
2 minutes. Next riders out.
15 minutes takes forever in one quick lightning flash.
Now you're at the start line. Engines off. The official asks "Why you takin this machine on this trail? Don't you like it?" You smile but it's lost in the helmet.
12:15. Away. The 250 guy is gone. As the rocks finish bouncing off your chest, you begin to wonder about the wisdom of chest protection. (You'll be spending quite a bit of time thinking about this a little be later.)
You check your rear brake to ensure you not on ABS. It slides! Nice! Except that everyone is staring at you wondering what the fuck you're doing stopping 20 feet from the start.
But no time for introspection now - you're off.
Three things run through your mind. "Where's that guy on the BeeEmDoubleYou?" " You think you can make 12mph in that first section?" "You probably won't hour out before the first checkpoint."
So it's hammer down. You've ridden first 1.7 miles of the trail twice. Go man, go.
You're roosting the corners. That little fucker better not be on that bridge or he's TKC fodder! First switchback, perfect berm bash. Sweet. The bike weighs nothing. What's that???
Holy cow - it's the 250!
In an switchback you're on him. He doesn't know you're there because he can't hear you. He motors through the next switchback and see nearly 900lbs of charging yellow mohawked rider and freaks. Drops the bike.
You swoop through and brake for him. No sense committing homicide this early. He's off. Next switchback you are on him like a GS on a Harley in the mountains. You're seriously putting the freak on him. He really doesn't like you on his tail. He pulls out and waves you past.
You ride. You fucking ride man. You overtake another rider. Another rider. Hey, wait a minute, maybe you're going too fast. You look down. SHIT! You forgot to reset your Odo. You got no idea where you are, and you can't gauge your speed, so FUCK IT...
Roll on brother. The forest cries for your blood!
|08-28-2003, 07:02 PM||#36|
Jaded and Happy
Joined: Jun 2002
Location: Fresneck or Bust Baby!
That was awesome! you got a few screws loose , but that was awesome. Keep it comin'
If you use Geico watch out. The buyout for my car was way below any objective figure (KBB, NADA, etc.). Also, I could not get in touch with anyone on the first try during a claim resolution.
Just because it's a zoo out there doesn't mean you have to view it from a cage!
Don't be an impulse buyer... afterall you have time..
|08-28-2003, 07:45 PM||#37|
Under Da Sea
Joined: Mar 2003
Location: San Rafael, CA
I've got stay the fuck out of it written on a stone tablet in my bedroom. - Con Stapleton
|08-28-2003, 07:57 PM||#38|
Joined: Jul 2002
AKA "Label Maker" - Bumfucked Hillbillies MC
|08-28-2003, 08:24 PM||#40|
I just tweeted it
Joined: May 2003
This is really intense man! Nice job, you've got the gift of great story telling - I can't stand it, I need more, more, MORE!!!
'14 KTM 350 EXC-F, '04 GS Adv, '02 DR-Z 400S
|08-28-2003, 09:58 PM||#42|
Joined: May 2003
Go on, it's hard coming on to the next page, only to find that the thread has stalled.
This is awesome. Hope you got through it alright.
|08-28-2003, 10:00 PM||#43|
Joined: Mar 2002
After the event, the 250 rider recounts what it's like to be run down by the unheard BMW.
He sezs, "It's a little like, oh, maybe hikin' a nice mountain trail. Sun's out. Blue skies. You're whistilin' some tune that's competing with your lungs for air, and you turn the corner to find you're being stalked by a fucking mountain lion."
Ah a predatory Beemer in the woods. No one expects you. No one hears you. You just materialize at the switchback.
Anyway - back to section one. You are absolutely bombing along, with the trail getting narrower as you get out into the forest. The switchbacks are now blind, climbing switchbacks. You're climbing Larch mountain...
You start riding the line from the previous rider, and SHIT!
You're down on the Stanton head guard, but still on the trail.
Damn. You can't follow these lines! Those guys are riding bikes less than fifteen inches wide and geared to crawl under power. He probably pulled the switchback at half your speed and saw the rut/stump combo and just skipped around it.
You. You slipped into the rut, got pulled right, tagged the root, and you're down.
No sweat. Bike's still running. Pick the damn thing up and go. Good thing your workout is mostly squats and deadlifts. 580 - no problem.
Gonna slow for the switchbacks now. Fucking reality is creeping in on the game. Who invited him?
Onward. Tighter. Twistier. Combo trees.
Still rolling fast, but a little more cautious. What's this???
You're are 5 point something miles. One sixth done. Alright! You roll to a spot at the checkpoint in front of the officials. You're expect accolades - like "good JOB, mang!". Instead...
They yell at you. "Move on down the trail."
Hmmm. You think maybe they see bikes behind you, and they want you to make room. You pull forward about 10 yards and stop. You look back.
They're looking back down the trail.
You say "Excuse me."
In comes a bike. Then another. The officials mark the bikes. They're off and past me. Another bike. They mark the bike and it's off. Another bike.
"Hey, I'm in this Enduro, too!"
"What?" They walk down and look and sure enough - there's a race card by your mohawk. And they thought you were just some fool. No way, you not just some fool, you're the fool on the BMW in the enduro!
"Oh, we're so sorry. We didn't know. We'll mark you as coming in' now - works in your favor."
Your card is marked 12:23. You're supposed to be there at 15:00. You're 2.6 minutes too fast for the section, and that's not counting the - what - minute, minute and half they ignored you.
"Fuck you!" Mr. Number 2.
"Fuck You!" Mr. "Think you can make 12mph?"
"Fuck You!" Mr. "Hour out before the first checkpoint."
You're underway! Cool! No, COLD. Jesus - you realize you're soaked in sweat. Calm down. Breathe. Ride.
The trail starts climbing steeply. On the map it looks like you pick up some 2000 ft in a very rapid set of switchbacks. You're clutching the engine now. Trying to tread a fine line between power on demand and controllable speed - you're reving to 2000 maybe 2200 and using clutch and rear brake to keep the speed down around 6 or 8mph in the tight stuff, then you wail on the 'straights' to recover the time...
You're huffin and puffin. Note to self - make self svelte! And what's that - a 2 stroke. Someone's moving on you from behind. You glance back. Can't see 'em. You ride. They're getting closer.
This is what you're worried about - it's been the rage on the WA_DSR website when they discovered a Beemer was gonna run the enduro - plugging up the riders... It was like a replay of the FatChance/Javarilla road captain giggle - only with Javarilla starring as FatChance.
You're losing focus on the trail, wantin' to let the faster rider by. He gains. You're lookin for space. He's behind you. You pull right, to the outside of the trail, he waves, gives you the thumbs up and rides by.
THUMP! The bike drops hard enough to pop your shoulders. To your horror you find the trail has just disappeared below you. What you thought was solid dirt to the lodgepole barrier was actually just a bunch of sluff and you've sunk your front wheel off the trail under the pole. Good thing the pole didn't move - cause that's what's supporting you AND the bike!
Your first major mistake. 1st gear. Off. Grab a hard part and pull. Nada.
Pull harder. Zip.
Next rider, and he's by.
Next rider - it's your start buddy! He stops and latches on. Nada. Another rider. He stops and latches on. They pull you out. Hop on their bikes and leave. And the bike sinks again!
AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH! You get it out this time. You gotta get all Hulk-fucking-city on the behemoth's ass. And now, you're wasted. You're sweatin'. Dry mouth. Huffing and puffing like a runner in the sumo marathon.
Lesson learned. It's ok if you go down on the trail, but if you go down OFF the trail, it's curtains.
Startup. Fuck. Forgot to disable ABS. Shutdown and restart. Next bike comes through and dusts you. You start rolling, but can't see. You put your goggles on. Fog! SHIT! You cat crapped these bastards! Damn, you're gotta be puttin out major btus...
You try to ride. You try turning your head one way then another trying to clear your glasses. Shit. Just concentrate on the shadows and light. Go slow. You'll cool....
This is your first somersault down the mountain. You tagged a hidden tree trunk big time on the right. You're down. No pain. Nifty nick in your new helmet. You're up. Bikes still tickin' over, rear wheel clawing at the air.
"Great," you think "No ABS reset this time!"
Heave! You're up. Check the machine. Jesus. Look at that! The Touratech crash bar bounced into the Stanton head guard hard enough to put a permanent Stanton impression on the inside of the crashbar.
Lesson #3: No fucking riding 12mph on the mountain when you can't see!
Goggles off. Ah, vision is a wonderful thing. Gotta roll. Loosin time. Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.
What's that fucking screaming????
|08-28-2003, 10:04 PM||#44|
Joined: Mar 2002
It's your clutch finger tendons....
Up. Up. Up. Oh man, the trail is getting really nasty. There was nothing like this in 1.7 or even 2.9...
It's just mile after mile of this shit...
It just goes on, switchback after switchback...
12mph. I can't make these at speed - god knows what lurks!
The switchbacks are getting steeper. Here's a typical one - you gotta climb maybe 6 feet in the next 10 to 12 feet, and you gotta have sufficient momentum to come around wide and high on the berm so you don't high center and so you don't loose to much speed (so you'll have a little clutch material left to ride home on), yet you can't go so fast you can't react to whatever's happening on the trail... Goddamn bike is just too high geared for this treachery...
The whole of the Capitol Forest is smelling of Bavarian clutch and Javarilla sweat. Riders coming through later would say they smelled clutch all the way up the grade...
You top out! All-Fucking-right! Whew! All the way through that slop without a drop. But fuck, the clutch is grabby as all hell, oh, man - this can't be good. But the path is flat and relatively straight...
You've lost soooo much time. Time to roll - stay off the clutch - let it cool... Throttle and brake. Man, there is a God!
But he's a fickle God. And he's got something to teach you - but he's gonna give you the test, first - just so you know how badly you need the lesson. Here it is...
You're rolling downhill. You're on the brake, but you're probably still pulling 12 maybe 15mph. And you see this...
Do you go left or go right? Choose quick...
Probably every GSer who reads this will pick left, right?
|08-28-2003, 10:06 PM||#45|
Joined: Mar 2002
Here's what's on the other side of that root...
There's no saving it. It registers as an 'Aw fuck' loud and clear in the minds of every telepath in the universe. You lock up the rear and grab a bit of front. You try and slow the bitch and try to slip left of the rut...
No fucking way, buddy. The front wheel slips and torques out from under you. You're flying. The next thing the telepaths here is "This is gonna hurt". And BAM...
You were right about that...
In this pic, the trail runs along the top. You can make out the slope. Your bike is lying upside down, wheels about 4 feet below the trail.
You, well, you're down about here... You landed on your back on the downed trunk just below the upright tree. Look closely and you can see all the small branches jutting up. They like you.
Ok. That felt good. The first thing you do is look at your arms because, well, because you're afraid to feel what might be sticking through your back...
Ah, yes, well. In your best Monty Python, repeat after me... "It's just a flesh wound!"
And, oh. The bike needs righted, but, honest, you couldn't care less for the next couple minutes. So you side off the trunk and sit for a bit.
Then you stand up. Still afraid to reach around.
Then you look at the bike. It's still running. Like some old coon dog running down a rabbit in it's sleep, the rear wheel is flappin at the sky. You crawl up and switch it off.
You wait. No riders. Shit. Maybe you weren't all that slow. Maybe that was one of the impossible time sections. Ah, a two-stroke.
Rider makes the same mistake, locks up and ends up with the front one foot over the edge of the trail.
Lesson #4: I'm not the only one who makes this mistake - everyone else does, too - but here's the difference...
He puts one foot down on the trail, grabs the handlebars, and lifts the front back onto the trail.
Lesson #5: That's why everyone rides 200lb bikes in enduros...
He asks if you're ok. You ask if there's anything sticking out of your back? He says no.
You say, "Then I'm ok." And he's gone, yelling he'll send help.
The next few riders make the same mistake one after the other, only one drops it. You help him get back on the trail, severely over estimating how much effort it'll take to move the bike and you push the poor bastard down on the other side of the trail. He thanks you, sorta, and he's gone.
You make a feeble attempt to get the bike upright. No way.
Soon a rider comes through, from Ireland, of all places, with a flat. He's out of the race so he stops to help. You and he try to lift the bike. No fucking way. A sandbagger - a pro riding for fun and for aid - comes through. The three of you right the machine, and work it slowly back onto the trail.
The machine was half buried in the soft dirt on the side of the mountain. The left head has no fins - their completely filled with dirt. The instrument plate and the RID are completely covered with dirt. The clutch hand guard is carrying 3 lbs of dirt.
You break it all loose and everything looks fine. In fact, the only problem is the bike is covered with fluid. It feels like clutch fluid. Since the Capitol Forest reeks of clutch, you all figure that's what it is.
You start the machine, put it in gear. The clutch is ultra grabby and ultra spongy. Yep. You're done for... But you gotta ride out to the checkpoint.
200 yards later and you're there. Do you keep going or do you quit?
You ask the checkpoint officials if there are any more hills.
"Yup. Two more - not quite as bad as that, but just about."
You eye up their Suburban, and the pleasant little fire road it's sitting on, and you figure you got an easy way out. You decide to call it a day.
Your new buddy with the flat. Well, you entertain him and the checkpoint crew by pulling out your electric pump, plugging into the accessory socket and filling his tire for him. They love it. Everybody loves a BMW in the woods except those who have to lift it.
You wobble off the mountain - fuck you were a long way up...
And you try to take some photos....
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