Awesome Dirt Riding

[PonoBill]

I posted part of this elsewhere, but realized I should do a separate post.

I did a group dirt bike ride with five friends from the Arlington Club this weekend guided by a company called High Desert Adventures (HDA). From about age 20 until about age 40 riding motorcycles, especially dirt bikes, was my major passion. Somehow I lost the bubble and tailed off on dirt riding somewhat, though I built a motocross track at my house in Portland that was a marvelously attractive nuisance until the County found out about it. I transitioned to mostly street riding, and even that lost its shine after my best friend died in a bike accident.

So this was the first time I've been doing a serious dirt bike ride in probably 15 years, and the first time I've done it with instructors, two of whom were pro dirt bike riders and the third was the owner, rated expert and also an EMT. I had a strange reverse of the typical problem with getting back into a sport after a long layoff. The muscle memory was there but my brain thought I couldn't be doing this stuff. I was pretty loose and ripping it up with the instructors while my brain was gibbering in fear. Better than the usual reverse of that. I fell four times--all while parked--like Artie Johnson on Laugh In. I put my foot out to stop and there wasn't any ground. Modern dirt bikes are too friggin' tall. Smacked my shoulder on one fall, but not a tear, more like a heavy bruise. Still, as fragile as my shoulders are any whack takes time to heal. Fortunately, I didn't fall while we were being silly. The OHV-permitted park area around Prineville is Disneyland for dirt bikes. If it was California it would be plugged with people, but in central Oregon, we were the only people using a huge area of trails and fire roads.

The trip was kind of surreal. The HDA guys have access to a cabin in a town called Silver Lake. Calling this the middle of nowhere is no exaggeration. The cabin looks like you could push it over with one hand, but it was actually kind of comfortable. Story is that it used to be an orphanage, which is why there is one big room upstairs with 12 beds. Even stranger, we had dinner at a place called the "Cowboy Tree Dinner". I didn't misspell that. Very odd, and absolutely in the middle of nowhere, nada, nothing. The place was packed. You need reservations to eat there, dinner only, and the only choices you make are steak or chicken, and strawberry lemonade or iced tea. No liquor. Probably a good idea since people have to drive a long distance to get there. Chicken is a whole chicken--spit barbecued. Looked great. Steak is 32 ounces, more than two inches thick, looking roughly like half-dozen filet mignons stuck together. No bones, no trim fat. Cooked on an outdoor barbecue made from a huge horizontal propane tank, like the smokers that Austin Barbeque uses. Salad, fabulous skillet bread, beans, baked potato and that's it. It was really great, and no one came even close to finishing their steak. Mine looked like what I would cook for four people after I was done eating. Admin would love the place. He'd probably eat all his and then be eyeing Chantalle's.

Sunday we started a loop up to some lookout point but got into heavy snow before too long. The road was passable, and it was fun riding, but we turned around when it got up to about a foot on the ground, though the road coverage was thin. I was kind of disappointed to turn around, but everyone was cold and wet, and it was just a loop anyway. I don't think we gained much by turning around, but the general opinion was "this sucks". I thought it was fun even though my nuts were bathed in melt water. My pants weren't waterproof.

One of the guys on the ride got hurt pretty badly on Sunday afternoon and had to be medevacked by chopper. Lots of fun up until then. Modern dirt bikes are great (except for the height), you can toss them around, rip over singletracks and jump off stuff with little regard other than the little guy screaming somewhere in my midbrain.  I have no idea what the total area is, but after the accident, we had to ride 76 miles to get back by the shortest route.

[SUPcheat]

I still remember the weekend warriors in the emergency room with broken legs.  "How did you do this?"  "My motorcycle" "Where were you riding and how fast were you going" "I wasn't riding, it fell over on me"