I was both excited and terrified of this weekend; for some reason I had decided it would be a great idea for me to take up dirt biking (of the motorized kind). So J and I hatched a plan to adventure back down to Bend Friday night for a long weekend jammed-packed with as much off road 2-wheeling as possible.
Saturday (the official Birthday), was spent as any awesome birthday should be spent: on the trail. For as long as physically possible. We rode from our campsite, with intentions of doing a ride called the “Farewell Epic”, as I had gotten it into my head that I needed to do one of the 5 rides labeled “Epic” in my mtb book. 38 miles of single track. Sign me up.
With a few accidental out-and-backs, we ended up at Tumalo Falls, where we went up a few different routes, all ending in snow, despite the mid-70s temps. No Farewell Epic for us. So we turned around and decided to just ride around Phil’s complex until we couldn’t ride no more. A few highlights: Whoops, Skyliners (did an out and back on this one), going down Phil’s trail, although I admit, it was 99% awesome. Except when I did a front wheel wheelie for about 5 feet and then for some reason decided slamming on my front brakes would be a GREAT idea, which of course landed me in a superman position flying over the handlebars and royally fucking up my knees.
6+ hours later, we decided we’d return to camp, when we spotted the thunderclouds. And realized we had no idea where we were despite the constant map checks. Somehow we ended up in the Land of Unmarked New Trails, and decided to just high tail to the road (which road? no clue). We rode through some kind of freeride area (The Lair), and ended up in the creeeeepiest unbuilt development area ever. Paved cul-de-sacs with no houses. A graveyard of the shitty economy. Very bizarro.
We ran into a herd of rollar-skiiers and they pointed us in the right direction; turns out we ended up having to ride about 10 miles on the 2 lane highway to get back to camp. Staring into the thunderheads, and realizing the 100% mesh tent with the sleeping bags and pads in it did not have the rainfly on. Shit.
Of course, by this time me knees were done with me, and I had to ride really slowly. Ever.So.Slowly the rain drops got heavier and heavier. We were so close it was maddening. By the last 500 yards or so, J sprinted ahead to save the tent, and I just spinned along, hoping there was a freak opening in the clouds above the tent.
Thankfully, we got the rainfly on just as the rain really started, and it only last an hour or so; suddenly we had blue skies again and sun (despite still hearing thunder), so we got our stuff totally dry before nightfall.
Sunday it was time to get motorized. We drove out to the East Fork OHV area, and I repeated over and over to myself where the brakes (right foot, right hand!), clutch, shifting, and throttle were. Oh bejezuz.
J was stoked. Wanted to ride until we couldn’t anymore. Sadly for him, I didn’t think that would be very long, given that I’ve never riden a motorcycle outside of circling a high school parking lot a few times.
We started out on the “learner’s loop”, which was a succession of VERY TIGHT corners and berms and steep inclines and declines. I crashed the bike within 5 minutes. Let’s just say that laying down a motorcycle is a much larger pain in the ass then a bicycle–picking up 300 pounds of machinery fucking sucks.
Anyway, we did the loop twice, (I was not feeling good at this point), and off we went onto the Real Trails. Which turned out to be far easier then the Learner’s Loop (wtf?). Of course, we started on the trails rated “easiest”, and I started feeling better, making good speed through a few minor burms and over a few rocks without dying. Pretty soon we were out in the desert flying through a foot of double track dust. I wasn’t used to the bike, I didn’t want to go any higher then 2nd gear, and the bike was totally squirrely under me. I dumped it again when I stopped to let some other riders by (of course), and then I ended up crashing again, going maybe 15 miles an hour, flying right off the front of the bike into the scrub brush. Ouch. Not. Good. I had a bitch of a time picking the bike up that time, and I was getting REALLY nervous and unhappy at this point.
Not super excited at this point
We had to go over some pretty technical (for a mountain bike) rocky sections, and I totally freaked. I just stopped, totally froze. I felt like the first time I did a real mountain bike ride (mt st helens) where I crashed a billion times and had a panic attack on the trail. I didn’t quite go that far, but I was really, really frustrated. J just stared at me (well, you can’t really talk over the motors, and through your ear plugs). Finally I kind of pushed through it with my feet on the ground, and we continued on. I was an unhappy camper. And we were only maybe an hour in, if that.
We stopped for a snack, J gave me a few essential pointers (stand up on the rocky sections and hold the throttle lower), and VOILA. Suddenly I could ride the stupid thing. Oh, stand up. We ended up having to go over a really technical rocky section (as in un-bicycle-able), and I fucking just went right over it. It was awesome. I was riding the burms at speed, kicking it into higher gears, trying to catch air on the mogels, yeah. I don’t know what happened, but it was like a light switch went on, and I could ride.
Hell yeah.
We ended up riding about 4.5 hours, which considering it was my first time on a motorcycle, I think was pretty impressive. I couldn’t hardly walk afterward, my knees hurt so bad. With standing up on all the mogels, its basically like doing squats for 4 hours. My quads were SO SORE the next day, pretty pathetic. 
Monday, we decided to “take it easy” by riding a scant 3 hours around Phil’s again. We ended up riding much of the Pickett’s Charge course, which is a lot more technical then most of the other trails in the area. We got lost a few times (again), and just kind of ended up winging it, riding on a trail called CIA, which was really fun and not on The Map (ohh!).
We left “early” to get back to town (3pm), but ended up in the Mount Hood Memorial Day traffic jam, where it took us about 45 minutes to go 12 miles, as we desperatly tried to make it to Govy for beers and dinner and so I could pee.
All in all, an awesome weekend. And I’m still sore.
