Monday - 5/21: "I remember it being an easy ride out from here..."

The desert sun comes up right around 5:00am... It's freaking bright too! By 5:15, things are getting down right uncomfortable in the tent. No point in trying to deny it, I have to get up. John and Casey are stirring as well. Our intent is to get an early start in an attempt to beat the heat and to escape the desert. Tents are rolled up and bikes are packed. With the sun already climbing over the tops of the surrounding hills, we set out on what we think is the Battle Axe Trail.

I'm never really on my game early in the morning. Normally, I would say 8:00am is early as I don't typically roll out on a normal day until about 10:30am because of my work schedule. When I do get up really early, my body doesn't know what to do with me. My equilibrium department has not risen with me and I feel a bit off until late in the morning. Today is no different. We start the ride in loose silt and I feel like I am just flailing all over the place on the bike. We reach a boulder strewn wash and I bounce my way across to the other side like a pinball. Then the road starts climbing out of the river valley and we leave the shade of the trees behind.


The road starts out fairly mild but soon we are doing the climbs and descents again. I'm feeling pretty good as I have eaten, slept, and drank until I could actually whiz again It is not hot yet, just a little warm. Today I plan to focus on doing the climbs and descents a little faster than yesterday. Dirt riding is about doing non intuitive things. The mind may be screaming to slow down lest you cast your body upon the unforgiving rocks, but the bike wants to go faster to maintain stability. Even though I know this to the core of my being, it takes all the will power I can muster to force myself to go faster. It does help. And then it happens again In a tight dip where I drop down into the bottom of a "V" while having to turn back up and to the right, I catch a big rock with the front tire while going slow and it just tips me right over Even though I can reach the ground on the KLR with no problem, once it gets tipped to a certain point, I just cannot hold it up with all the added weight of the luggage. It is very frustrating. I get the bike righted and start the next climb.

Soon the road "levels" out a bit and becomes a little more rolling and fast. There are still serious rocks to dodge, but the pace is quicker. The wind coming through the mesh of my riding suit feels fantastic. Already, it is getting hot again. I don't think the actual air temperature is all that hot, but the direct sunlight makes if feel MUCH hotter. When we stop to regroup, we are always looking for the shade spots.

The easy riding soon gives way again to the gnarly hill climbs. I sit at the bottom of a ridge contemplating the path to the top. Casey is already out of sight and I did not get to watch the lines he chose. There are HUGE deep erosion ruts and large embedded rocks that go from top to bottom. One side is so bad that people have started driving off to the other side, creating a second road of sorts. My mind made up, I head up the right side on the "new" road. I get up some speed, hold steady on the gas, lean WAYYY forward and hit the hill running!!

Things start out pretty smooth and then the fun begins. Both ends of the bike are bouncing around trying to buck me off. I stay steady on the gas and keep my eyes looking up, looking for that magic line that will carry me to the top. The rear tries to slide on the off camber slope that waits to drag me into one of the huge ruts. The top is getting closer and the sense of expectation/dread builds... Will I make it? I clear the last obstacle and it looks like I am clear... oh crap!! There is a DEEP rut running left to right directly across my path just before the crest of the hill Nothing to do but lean wayyy back and lighten the front end, stay loose, and hope for the best! I hit and bounce, but the bike stays under control. When the back end comes out it wants to leap into the air as the rear spring unloads. I am ready for it and it is not a problem. I make it through and then have to bring the bike to a fast stop. The top of the hill is a "T" intersection and if I keep going straight, I will launch right off into some cacti! A little skid and some pucker, the dust settles and I realize I've done it. I spot Casey up and to the right looking down with his camera in hand. Then I hear the sound of John's KTM chugging hard...

We take a break for a while and enjoy the view. Roads wind away in all directions. Which to take? After a brief consultation and looking at the GPS, we head down off the ridge into a low valley. After a few more climbs and descents, the road levels out and straightens a bit.


Take a good look at that mesa on the right side of the above image. Now imagine one just to the right of that with a road going up it... Yes, this is the way we go. The GPS maps show a road running around the base of the mesa heading off to the East and then veering North. However, the on the ground experience does not confirm the existence of this road. The road we are on, which looks to be the most frequently traveled road, heads up that mesa and the GPS shows it dead ending into a narrow canyon. To make things even more interesting, we can see a ledge running around the side of the mesa. Could this be the road the GPS indicates? We decide to investigate...

We soon leave the relatively easy and smooth road of the valley floor and start a tortured and winding climb up the side of the mesa. One section of the climb in particular is daunting. It is often the case that riders don't have pictures from the best/worst parts of their trips. This is because they are either having too much fun to stop for pics or because they are so worried about their immediate survival that pics are simply out of the question! This hill climb would be of the latter case... I scan the climb for a few moments, making note of the really BIG rocks that will need to be dodged and looking for the surface that will offer the best traction. The road climbs and turns, going out of sight. I'll just have to wing it when I reach the turn and hope for the best

I take this hill in first gear, as I have had to do for many of them. The throttle is snatchy in first gear which makes it hard to consistently control, but second gear is just far too tall and will lug the engine into a stall. John waits at the bottom of the climb as I start my way up, no doubt hoping I won't dump it and need help The bike chugs and bounces, slips and slides, but keeps going. I hit the corner and run a berm around the outside of the nasty stuff and keep going. The remainder of the climb is long but not as rough as the first section. Eventually I catch up with Casey. He's waiting at a switchback where there is a large leveled area where it appears that people camp. I pull up next to him and we wait for John.

It is now that I realize the heat is ON! It is maybe 9:30 or so and already it is cooking. We stop to confer again and there is much anguish over the route. Casey does not recall there being such a prolonged climb out on his previous ride. This combined with the uncertainty of the GPS maps leaves us in a pickle. We can't see any roads from our high vantage point that connect up with anything going East like the map shows. Ahead lies the steep walls of a very narrow canyon. IF it is the wrong way and we wipe ourselves out just to find out it is a dead end, it could get ugly. We decide to head back down into the valley below and see if a few of the smaller roads we passed show any promise. The run back down the side of the mesa goes pretty smooth and helps with my confidence.

Back down in the valley we follow a few short off shoots from the main road and they show no promise at all. They look like they are seldom traveled. Frustrated and tired, we decide to attempt the mesa one more time and to go a little higher for a better vantage point in the hopes that we'll see something new. I am a little worried, but since I made it the first time I am feeling pretty good as there should be no surprises. Off and up we go...

I finally reach that first nasty section again, look up to refresh my memory about the line I took before, and have at it. There is a BIG difference between the intended line and the resulting line when doing a hill climb All it takes is one well placed rock to set in motion a series of events that takes everything from the wonderful world of, "this is working great!" to,"aaaagggghhhhh!!!!" True to form, I find that one well placed rock It tosses me off to the right and the bike climbs the berm on the side of the road. The hill is so steep that adding the slope of the berm just wheelies the bike right up and over onto the top of the berm. I eject, something I am getting all too good at doing The bike comes to rest on its side with the front end off the road. This won't be easy...

I learned my dualsport riding on the BMW R1150GS, the biggest pig on the dual sport road (next to the Adventure version of the GS). I learned several important lessons riding that beastie. Once it is obvious the bike is going down, get clear!! Trying to save it can only lead to nasty injuries and pulled muscles. The second and perhaps more important lesson is that once down, there rarely is a need to act fast to get the bike righted. It is far better to take a few moments to make sure I am not injured, let the adrenalin come down, and to survey the situation calmly. Trying to get the bike up in a hurry while pumped on adrenalin can really get a person hurt!

I stand for a moment and survey the situation. A feeling of disgust floats at the edge of my consciousness. I made it the first time with almost no problem at all and it burns me that I could not do it again Worse yet, it does not look like I will be able to get the bike up without help. As much as I appreciate John's help in these situations, I get tired of it always being me that needs the help and him doing the helping He waits patiently below as I start trying to tug the bike back onto the trail. I tug with everything I have and it hardly budges. The heat and exertion of riding is already taking its toll. I leave the bike where it is and hike down to the bottom of the hill to join John in the shade of a scrub tree.

After John finishes a cigarette, we hike back up to the bike and see what we can we can do. We both grab the front of the bike and just start dragging it down the berm to get it on the road so we can get to it for lifting. The right controls and mirror are just digging into the dirt and rocks. I cringe as I see the parts scraping, but what else can we do After a few minutes of heavy grunting, the bike is still on its side but is basically pointed in the right direction. I move around to get a grip on the downside bar and start the dead lift. John steadies the bike and keeps if from rolling backwards as I remount. Now I am faced with a mid climb restart again... My experience thus far is that a gradual start is very difficult. The bike does not have enough speed to maintain its balance and with the rocky footing it is very difficult to keep it from going over again if it starts to tip. The launching start is scary though because it immediately sets the bike to broncing and bouncing like a raging bull. I opt for the launch and get up on the pegs in a standing position as fast as possible to let the bike flail around underneath me. Back on the gas and determined as ever, I eventually fight my way back to the top, make the switchback where we stopped before and climb a little farther before finding Casey stopped, sitting in the shade of a cactus, pondering his maps... I am beat...

John soon joins us. He and I share the thin shade of some kind of bush/cactus thing. And then there are the gnats... They were bad yesterday as well. It seems they enjoy the shade also. They have a proclivity for buzzing into the eyes, ears, nose and mouth. Swatting at them is pointless. Even if I were to kill those in the path of my hand, there are thousands waiting to replace them in an instant. Worst of all, they like to get into the helmet and find their way back behind my ears or somewhere between my head and the helmet liner. It is hard enough to concentrate on the difficult road with the heat and exhaustion. Having several gnats wiggling around behind the ears or on the head is enough to make one go crazy

From the higher vantage point on the mesa, we still don't see anything that improves our situation. We're a long way from the river and its precious water. Our gas situation may soon become a problem. Chasing down rabbit trails and exploring is not really something we can afford to be doing right now. We are all tired, hot, and frustrated. There is still one road we have not explored. The GPS shows it going down to the river and then running roughly parallel to the river to the East before arching back up to the Northeast and eventually hitting the Kelvin/Florence highway. It is a longgg way back to the intersection where that road cuts off from our path and heads to the river...


Down we go... again...

At this point, I am pretty much mentally consigned to doing whatever it takes to get me and the bike wherever it needs to be, all physical or mental discomfort aside. Griping about things won't help and would just get everyone more aggravated. So far, despite our frustration, no one is really complaining or getting short with anyone else. It is nice to be riding with guys like this. Some folks would be intolerable in such a situation. We're all in this together so nothing to do but suck it up and make the best of it!

After a long and challenging backtrack, we finally reach the intersection where the road heads East. The good thing is that we are down low in the valley so the road is relatively easy to ride. The faster pace feels great with the wind evaporating the sweat from my skin. It reminds me to keep sucking on the Camel Bak so I don't dehydrate. I come over a short rise and find Casey stopped where the road crosses a wide gravel wash. John pulls up behind me right about the time that Casey takes off down the wash We look at each other for a moment... "Does he expect us to follow him down that?!" A few more moments go by... "I guess so "

The wash is a LOOSE rocky surface of fine rocks, most often quite deep. It is like trying to ride the bike across a deep bed of oiled BB's. The front just plows like crazy when I try to turn. When I try to use the gas to steer with the back end, the rear tire just spins and sinks or causes the bike to fishtail. It is impossible to get the bike up on top of this stuff. Add to that there are large sections of rock slabs sticking up out of the wash gravel that must be dodged. I can see where Casey has plowed through ahead of us and just resolve to keep following his trail, fighting the bike as it tries to fling itself to the ground. All I can do is put out the legs and paddle my way through. After what seems like an eternity, but is in reality probably only a few minutes, I find Casey stopped and off the bike. Dead end...

Time for a much needed break and more serious consultation. Fortunately, there is a large rock with stuff growing out of it and it provides enough shade for all three of us to get out of the sun. Off comes the gear, out comes the water, and I force myself to eat some jerky and power bars. It all tastes like bad cardboard, but the water gets it down.


While we are cooling off and relaxing, I think the seriousness of our situation is really starting to take hold of our minds... We are not sure of the way out, we likely don't have enough gas to backtrack all the way to where we originally came in, and even if we did, the ride back out would be long and brutal. We definitely don't have it in us to do the backtrack today. None of us is wild about the idea of attempting the mesa again. If we were to get up in there and run out of gas or water, we'd be a LONG way from water and in a serious jam. All three of us are pretty well over heated and tired at this point. It seems the only logical thing to do is to head back to our campsite at the river. We've food for several days and with water can last even longer if we absolutely have to. Best to get there, cool off, relax, and then consider our options.

We still have to ride back out of this wash...

I get the KLR turned around and pointed in the right direction. The front tire is up on a bit of a raised berm of the gravel. When I try to get it turned to miss the rock ledges where John's bike was parked, over I go At this point, there is no real sense of frustration or anger... It just is, so I have to deal with it I get setup and dead lift the bike. Casey holds it steady while I swing a leg over. Then it is back to the paddling and plowing through the gravel. I have to stop several times along the way to catch my breath. Fighting the bike in this stuff is just brutally punishing and my heart is POUNDING!! I just keep telling myself..."It is only a little further, you can do this, you have to do this, just keep going..." I finally reach the spot where the road crosses the wash and find John waiting for us.

The map shows that the road continues towards the river and back the direction where we camped. It if goes through it will be a MUCH shorter ride to the camp spot than backtracking the way we came this morning. John leads the way. The terrain is up and down with lots of silt and sand at the bottoms of the hills. After a mile or so, we come to a big dry wash. The map shows the road continuing on the other side, but the drop down into the wash is not something any of us are willing to risk. It is very steep, strewn with large boulders and criss crossed with tree trunks that have been washed down in past flood waters. Another dead end... It looks like we will be backtracking all the way back the way we came

We make short work of getting back to the main road and then start the trek back to the river. Coming out this morning, I don't recall it being so challenging. It is funny how perception is affected by our mental and physical states. Now, hot and tired, the road seems much more difficult, the rocks bigger, the climbs and descents rougher and steeper, and the bike much less agile... I experience several near drops and only manage to stay upright by sheer luck and judicious applications of the throttle. Just have to hang on a little longer... I can see the trees lining the river below...

We finally make it back to our campsite. The bikes are quickly parked in the shade, gear is stripped off, and bodies are soaked in the river... ahhhhh... The water is cold, but not COLD. Soaking is incredibly refreshing. We sit soaking, pondering our situation and what we might do to extract ourselves from it. Casey is a little agitated because he has that driving focus that makes him want to be doing something every moment to achieve the goal. I am content to soak for now. Fifteen minutes or so won't make that much difference either way at this point. Besides, maybe we'll get lucky and someone will drive up on the other side of the river and we can get someone into town to go for help... <insert silent prayer here>

"Do you hear that?!..."


A jeep comes crawling into view and we wave our arms to get their attention. They stop and ask if things are okay. I ask if they can take one of us into the nearest town and they agree. Casey is elected to go since he is most familiar with the area and also has friends with 4 X 4's. "Give me a minute to get some stuff together...", exclaims Casey as he climbs up the bank back to the bikes. Twenty minutes later he is finally ready to go John and I were getting antsy and worried that our help might lose interest and move on down the road... Casey wades across the river which is just over waist deep on him. "It might be a few days before I can reach my friends and get back out here...", and then he disappears into the Jeep and vanishes around the bend into the trees. It is an odd feeling standing there on the bank of the river with John... A few days?!

Well, with nothing left to do, John and I set about to being slugs. There is shade in need of chasing and gnats in need of swatting. The only sounds now are the wind moving through the trees, the flowing of the river, all manner of odd bird calls... "Is that a motor!?" "Does that sound like a helicopter?" "Is someone coming?" The ears strain to hear and identify every sound. As the afternoon wears on, hunger sets in...


Kuddos to John for being the campmeister! He whips out his little stove, some noddle stuff and a precooked chicken breast, and best of all, he makes some bread!! I did not think I was all that hungry until the scent of the cinnamon in the bread started making its way to the olfactory center in my brain...


After a great lunch, we resume our task of doing nothing. It feels great to be off the bike. I down some much needed Alieve. My muscles are hurting and I am really sore in the arms, shoulders, and upper back. My legs and knees are actually doing much better than I would have expected. About eight weeks ago I started taking some Glucosamine (sp?) mixed with some other stuff. It is supposed to help with joint pain and lubrication. Apparently it is working because normally I would be experiencing a high degree of discomfort directly under the knee caps. I was also doing squats every morning in the hopes of building up my leg endurance. It seems to have paid off.


Even after the great lunch prepared by John, I am still starving. ALL I can think about is eating and drinking. I brought quite a bit of jerky with me and numerous power bars. They start to vanish in short order. It seems that every few minutes I am taking a long drag on the Camel Bak. I never thought I would reach the point where I am always worried about where my Camel Bak is. At this point, it goes everywhere I go and never leaves my side, even if I am just moving from one shade spot to another. Before this trip, I was thinking a three liter Camel Bak was a bit of overkill. Now I know better. Once again it has been drained by noon and needs refilling. Thankfully, John has that covered as well.


The river water is pretty silty. The pump works for about a half liter or so before it has to be cleaned. The filter is a ceramic cylinder. It just pops out, gets scrubbed with a Scotch-Brite pad, rinsed and reinserted. It works great and I have no doubt that we'd be forced to drink the river water if we had not had this filter available. Of course, in the condition I am in, I'd drink the river water and risk any consequences. With our Camel Baks full, we resume doing nothing...


"Do you hear that...?!" "Is that a bull dozer?" "Sounds like tracks creaking to me..." "Wait... what's that?!" "Gotta be some kind of V8..." and so it goes for the rest of the day...

Late in the afternoon it starts again... "That HAS to be a truck!" "Wait... It sounds like it is on THIS side of the river!!" We scramble up and over the berm to the road just in time to see a white Jeep Cherokee coming from the direction we had gone this morning. I wave him down and we chat a bit. He claims he came in from the North. I describe the mesa climb and he says it sounds like the way they came, but then he describes some other stuff that doesn't sound quite right... hmmm... He asks if we need any water and offers a few gallons from his spares. We assure him that we are fine on water. After a bit more chatting we say good bye and watch as he slowly drives away, headed for the Coke Ovens. We quickly get back to doing nothing...

The day wears on and the sun begins to get low in the sky. John is having a hard time keeping his eyes open and as soon as his tent is in the shade, he climbs in to escape the gnats and flies. I stay back down by the river and just sit, soaking up the experience, glad I am not at work... While relaxing, it occurs to me that I am filthy and coated in a thick layer of dirt. I grab my camp towel, strip down and take a bath in the river. Now... I've sat here for hours and not seen or heard a thing, but no sooner than I get nekkid and jump in the river, I start hearing motor noises again I don't pay much attention to it until a truck pops out of the brush on the other side of the river! I scramble back over the berm, towel and clothes in hand, dry off and then come back around to greet our new visitor

A young guy driving a 4WD Toyata truck stops to let his dogs play in the water. He asks if everything is cool and I explain our situation to him. When I ask about the way out on this side of the river, he mentions the Battle Axe Trail. When I mention the nasty mesa climb to him he doesn't recall that. All he recalls is a nice road that rolls over small hills. Dang... I'd sure feel better if we knew for sure which way was the right way!! Not knowing for sure what Casey will be able to do, there is still a definite possibility that we will have to ride the bikes out of here. With no way to contact Casey, all we can do it sit and wonder... After a short while, the guy loads up his dogs and leaves. As darkness approaches, John and I start to wonder if perhaps we should not have bummed a ride out with the people in the Cherokee...

Once the sun starts slipping from the evening sky, we retire to our tents. While I am blowing up my air mattress, I hear what sounds like gun shots not to far from our position. Hmmm... The guys on the ATVs were doing some shooting yesterday at the other crossing area. Maybe they are still down there

Pow...

Pow...

Slight pause....

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!....

Okay... so maybe there are some HEAVILY armed locals with fully automatic heavy caliber weapons Several thousand rounds later it becomes obvious that we are not dealing with locals. Soon the sounds of military helicopters fill the air, reverberating off the many peaks around us. They sound really close! Then start the FIIIIIZZZZZZ of flares being launched into the dark night sky and my tent is lit up like the middle of the day!! I peek out the tent window and watch as the flares drift on their parachutes, burning brightly, until they smolder out just over our location! And so it goes, all night, non-stop, until close to day break. When I do manage to drift off to sleep, the dreams are bizzarro beyond description So ends another day of the adventure...