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Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Epic Rides' started by Charla, Jan 19, 2010.
So I've been away from a computer for a while and am going to back everyone up to the departure from Scorpion Bay and the ride up to El Burro. I'd apologize, but this is partly my story too, so anyone who doesn't like it can suck it
I could have stayed in San Juanico forever, but eventually I'd run out of money, and there were no truckstops nearby where I could seek, ermmm, employment. So we have to go. Ben warns us numerous times about “loco burro blanco” but we never saw him.
We skipped breakfast and headed to La Purisma where we'd stop for gas and food. The “highway” over to La Purisma has already been covered, but it was every bit as challenging as the others have said. I was loving this days ride as much as the previous day.
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Kelly crossing the river just before La Purisma.
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Mommer on the same crossing.
When we finally get to La Purisma we get some barrel gas and after the “posada tostada” episode, we head to San Isidro. I was so hungry by this point I would have eaten almost anything, but for some reason I was target fixated on a hamburger. After the pizza the night before I really wanted something “American.” I ordered a hamburguesa but when the food was served I was handed a Super Burro. Mmmm, well, it was food. I laid into that burrito like it was my first meal after a 40 day fast. I bit my own finger once, and the teeth marks are just now starting to heal. After lunch I checked the subframe and found it loose, so while everyone else lounged around I tightened everything back up and we headed out.
As was now custom Mommer and I were riding sweep. There are advantages and disadvantages to being the last two riders in a large group. One of the disadvantages is dogs. For some reason Mexican dogs hate the last two riders. San Isidro was no exception. As we rode along I watched an orange Akita looking dog watch everyone pass before deciding he wanted a piece of my rear tire. I couldn't really go much faster through the town (kids everywhere) so I tried to ignore him hoping he'd quit once I left his territory. Nothing doing. This dog wanted a take a piece out of my ass. It had to be Ganshert's work. I made a mental note to find that old crone who'd cast the counter hex and kick her down two flights of stairs. A quick blip of the throttle and a mouthful of gravel convinced the dog that lying in the shade and sleeping would be a better way to spend the afternoon.
We headed out across the river valley and up on to some bluffs looking over the town.
Mommer with Kurt just ahead of him.
The road was much tighter than yesterday, with a lot of loose rocks. Well, on anything less than 500 pounds, they were probably not loose, but a peeeeig has a way of making a rock that has been motionless for over 3 million years get the sudden urge to go “over there” right about the time the front wheel is on top of it.
It wasn't long after that pic that Ganshert stuck again. Throughout the whole trip my bike had been way more sensitive to dodgy gas than anyone else's. Typically the bike would sputter a little, backfire, and hack and cough for ten seconds and then it would go back to normal. It would do these ten second coughing fits for about five minutes and then would be fine the rest of the day. I chalked it up to a little water in the fuel, but given how hard the float bowls were to get to, I decided that I wouldn't bother it unless the bike just refused to go an further. So, the barrel gas we got in La Purisma started causing the same sputtering. I kept riding hoping it would clear up soon, but no joy. It kept getting worse, and more frequent. I started spewing maledictions at Ganshert and shaking my fist at the sky. A few seconds later I happened to be looking at the dash when the bike sputtered and I saw the whole dash blink out. That sneaky bastard almost tricked me. Right then I knew that I had a loose cable on the battery. I pulled over and got the tools out. I was the last rider so I knew it would be a while before anyone came, but even so I wanted to hurry to keep anyone else's backtracking to a minimum. As I rolled under the bike I kept repeating my mechanical mantra. “Slow is fast. Slow is fast. Slow is right, slow is fast.” I dropped the skid plate, pulled the cover, and sure enough, the ground cable was loose. I tightened that back up and put everything back together. I was in a beautiful river gorge, but I'd been there for so long I didn't even take a pic. I did, however, again swear to have my vengeance on Ganshert. Some day...
I got back on the bike and rode on. I came up on Mommer just as he was pulling on his helmet and preparing to come back for me. As soon as I stopped I said to Mommer, “we'd better hurry. We were already a few minutes behind the group when we took off, and now we're way behind. You know how much Ben hates turning around to find someone.”
“Umm, well, I wasn't going to turn back for you. I was just gonna take that 6mm socket from your tool kit and leave you for the coyotes.”
“Oh. Well. In that case we'd better hurry before they come looking for you.” From that point until we got to Mex 1 about 30 minutes later, Mommer and I ran just as hard as we could.
I managed to get a few pics when I stopped to make sure I could see his dust cloud closing behind me.
Mommer topping the rocky hillclimb. I didn't even get off the bike for this pic. We were trying to make some time.
Roads like this make you feel like Fabrizio Meoni. I'd look back every few minutes and see Mommer's dust cloud coming down the road and get right back into the thottle.
Just as the group was reaching Mex 1 we caught Chris and Kelly. I was completely tweaked out on adrenaline and couldn't stop talking.
As I pulled up I heard Chris mutter. “Goddamnit! Why does he keep following us?”
Mommer looked at the group. “I thought it would work, but somehow the dumb bastard just keeps going.”
“Didjaseethatvadowiththehugeledge? Ialmostranrightoverit. IpulledovertowarnMommer. Wewereflatoutforlikethelastthirtymiles.”
Ben looks over at me and says, “yeah, look, that's nice, why don't you shut up now?”
Charla chimes in with, “you told us. Now be quiet.”
A few minutes later we jumped on Mex1 and headed up towards Mulege.
Is this the official "bacon" crossing sign of Mexico?
Too long didn't read, but the pics sure are preety....
Don't let HomerJ read bed time stories to your kids . . . they'll never go to sleep if they're splitting their sides laughing!
A few of us.
Don't you know that is the famous Mexican Moustache sign? That delineates the road ahead is only for macho men with glorious facial hair.
LMAO - abundant visions of Mouse McCoy!
Great report everyone!
"I got a flat on the beach..."
Damn those tamales were good.
Maybe the mechanics and parts store owners ride here.
"I was in third overall..."
what's a charlahead
I'm still IN - excellent RR! You guys rock....
What's a charlahead?
A charlahead is a big, hard, extremely loose and rolly-polly rock right in the road. Some roads have a few charlaheads scattered about, but often on our local roads here in the mountains of Colorado, the road is made up entirely of loose rolly-polly charlaheads, which makes passage very difficult for two-wheeled vehicles. Charlaheads can be of various shapes, both round and square, but they are generally enormous in relation to the rocks we'd prefer to ride on. Charlaheads are so named because they resemble our good friend Charla's giant, bulbous head.
(pic smugthugged from cvestal)
Ok this is officially the funniest thing I have seen today.
great RR btw
Cvestal's mad photoshop skilz, BTW.
they're empty too, like a geode...right?