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Old 12-05-2012, 06:39 PM   #1403
Lost Rider OP
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Joined: Oct 2006
Location: Ventura County, California Republic
Oddometer: 3,161






I had camped at about mile 440 on the course, just north of the 450 mile marker.
While I wasn't too sure where I'd be sleeping tonight but one thing was for sure, I wasn't going to have time to accomplish my goals if I stopped riding at sunset around 4:40PM, no matter how many miles I can cover during the day.

After a short break with lots of water getting sucked down to rehydrate I felt this determination and overwhelming need to push harder, to actually start committing myself even further to get to the end. Faster, I must go faster and stop less….

OK, then it's decided. I'm going to take more risks and stop screwing around.




Then there was silt.


OK, I've not really ridden in deep silt beds before, not something I wanted to do on my GS or R so all you more experienced riders just let me have my moment.








OK, then it's decided. I'm going to take more risks and stop screwing around.




Then there was silt.






Then there was silt.









Then there was silt.










Let me try to describe what it's like to ride through silt beds if you'll indulge me.








Take a huge loader, something like this:









Now go dig a hole about 75' long and 4' deep, make sure you zig-zag it a few times, wouldn't want a straight line.








Now, go get a big dump truck, something like this:












Then after you have a nice big long hole, and and big ole' dump truck, fill the dump truck with talcum powder until it's overflowing.



Now, dump that talcum powder in the big ole' hole you dug and spread it out, but not too evenly, we wouldn't want that now would we.





Pack you bike up with what you need for a week camping.




Go ride through it.







I don't have a good photo of the deep stuff, no way I was stopping or taking out my camera but this is a taste of it. So much for
OK, then it's decided. I'm going to take more risks and stop screwing around. :pond


It seems like a fine line of either not hitting it going fast enough, or when you go too fast it's like hitting a snowdrift where you almost go over the handlebars with the rear wheel off the ground. Not sure how I made it through, mostly I closed my eyes and twisted the throttle

There were a number of silt beds, some long, some short, some I could squeeze around at a pace that didn't mean death if I crashed.
Mostly though it started to wear on me, with my OK, then it's decided. I'm going to take more risks and stop screwing around newfound attitude.
At the time it sucked, I just wanted to get it over with, give me any kind of rocky road so I can pass more mile markers…. PLEASE!
Now that I look back at it, it was pretty cool to be out there alone in a battle to make it through challenges like that. You just have to depend on yourself, and trust you gear. I like that kind of thing.




















I had crossed the peninsula and found myself in San Juanico looking for gas. I had it on my GPS there was gas here, but it wasn't of the normal Pemex flavor, luckily I found Camacho's and he had some very questionable pinkish red gasoline to sell me.
Smelled like gas mostly, hope it doesn't kill TMH.




I studied the map some more, trying to decide where I wanted to be when I slept tonight.
It was around a hundred miles to Loredo with a small mountain range in the middle to cross, I got gas at around 3:30, so a little more than an hour of sunlight left.
OK, Lareto it is, no camping so extra food needed for the night, I had snacks if I end up camping out, better I stayed as light as possible not knowing what's ahead.
Gas and water, that's all I need. Maybe.


I was happy to see wide open parts of the course ahead and took full advantage, heading due east with the Sun at my back, once again hopelessly racing the sun.







I could hear the race engine whining in the background but did my best to go faster, eventually these fellows caught up to me at a river crossing. These were the first guys to pass me in a long time, as it was getting closer to the race, people were done pre-running and less people were out there. Could turn into an interesting night if things go wrong, for now I was just having a blast.
I had passed through a few small towns today, and everywhere I went people and kids were lining the streets when I came through, mistaking me for a racer who's pre-running. High fives and cheers were common, and slightly embarrassing since I was after all just trail riding the course. What the hell, if I could ride a wheelie down main street and kids cheered it was fun for everyone, even if I was an impostor. My biggest mistake of the trip was not having any LOST or Freedom decals in time, they arrived at home the day after I left. Kids everywhere were always asking for stickers and I had none.






















Once again I had lost against the sun, I just don't have what it takes I guess. Light was fading, shadows of the dark starting to dance about as I passed by.
Bring it on, I have a fancy scmancy handy dandy HID light on TMH and good eyes. I was still 50 miles out, but it was early and after all, OK, then it's decided. I'm going to take more risks and stop screwing around.












OK, with the sun completely gone, the darkness that came about with no moon was intense. The course had went from gravel roads to a trail that criss crossed a riverbed, the problem is there had been heavy heavy rains last month here that had done it thing and changed the terrain, washing away the road altogether in places and making the wash crossings sometimes very deep.
My headlight was pretty badass if I do think so myself, I had ridden into the night with it before like here on the Nevada TAT earlier this year (will get to that someday)





But the reality of the situation was that for trying to keep a good pace on these what one time long ago were called roads is a different story altogether than the TAT or paved roads.

The sometimes 3' deep rocky washout came up fast and with my headlight nothing more than a black hole. Sometimes I could fly over them, other times it was everything I could do to break as hard so as not to break my neck bouncing off of rocks.
This continued on for a while, the game of chicken with the course speed vs time vs sight. The little pink course marker ribbons were getting harder and harder to follow.

It was dark, I was alone, and finally LOST.


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Lost Rider screwed with this post 12-05-2012 at 06:52 PM
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