Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Epic Rides' started by DR. Rock, May 23, 2008.
downhill side now... freefall.
time to pull the rip-cord,
and hang on with both hands.
and we're clearly descending. The Scala's are awesome... we can cut into each other's music...
"Hey, David... purple flowers. Photo"
"Back to music?" "Yes"
"Hey, are you there ?"
"Yeah, I just went through... it's easy"
"Oh, I didn't see you. Thought maybe you were underwater, or swept downstream."
We followed the canyon / valley down,
it was in full bloom
doc you got the gift of gab
coffee table book
more like a road, and it crossed the water several times.
LDF was exercising discipline and restraint with her clutch rev'ing affliction. The sun was sparkling off everything;
Setting up for another splash... I always get a little nervous this time of day. Physically tired, mentally fatigued, visibility is compromised from accumulated dust and low angled sunlight, hypoglycemia is setting in...it's like the last run of the day on the ski-slopes. I definitely remind myself to slow down, and sharpen the reflexes.
She has me go through first:
mostly, I think, just so I can get good photos of her... but I blow it:
mid-shin... that's wet feet.
green colored cliffs:
almost fluorescent hi-viz.
The whole time here, we're discussing whether we should stop and set up camp, or push on... and the reality is, there's not such good options for pitching a tent.
Everything's on a pretty steep incline,
or close enough to the water that I'd be concerned with flash flooding. Plus, there's no cover, no trees... we could figure something out, but it's pretty easy riding, and we decide to just keep moving.
We pass through this fence line, and we can see into the valley below, and there's McDermitt.
way, way in the distance... but it's down there... We have only so much daylight left, and we can spend it making camp, or getting to McDermitt and hoping there's a hotel room for us.
We love camping, but it seems silly when there's an opportunity for a roof and a shower so close. We figured there'd be plenty of times where we wouldn't have a choice but to camp, so it seemed to make sense to get to town.
The landscape was how I imagined Scotland, or Ireland to look.
we realized that Sam was going to get in a few last kicks before letting us take a shower... We saw the remains of some ADV TAT rider from last season who just had had enough of this habited valley meandering:
Probably their chase / support vehicle:
Oh, fer chrissake...
Just get us there.
The "gate" is actually a "fence"... and we've got to re-route in this godforsaken hot valley, and we just want to get there...
"are we there yet"
"are we there yet"
"are we there yet"
"are we there yet"
The roads disappear, reappear, dead-end... there are gates,
are those wild horses? If so, that means WE're fenced in... But we're making progress, slowly, and we finally pop out onto a main road through this gate.
That reminded me of my idea for a reality show... get a bunch of people to take covered wagons across the West, using pioneer technology and equipment. Now THAT would be tough. It'd make Charley and Ewan... shoot it'd make ALL of us look like a bunch of pampered pansy whining cry-babies.
Yeah, we had a long day... but compared to the pioneers... we had it easy:
I didn't even take a proper photo of our luxurious accomodations.
We stayed at the McDermitt Motel, behind the Sinclair station and Mini-mart:
<iframe width="425" height="240" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps/sv?cbp=12,117.64,,0,2.23&cbll=41.997462,-117.718726&panoid=&v=1&hl=en&gl=us"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?key=ABQIAAAADMssVZpCsdhLy7xoNDfukxRpLMghRZP-jG3vjhB8cQBADwEFYBSolkA4cGfw1enrym2Gf4XdKa-iyQ&mapclient=jsapi&ie=UTF8&ll=41.997582,-117.718678&spn=0,359.919233&z=14&layer=c&cbll=41.997462,-117.718726&panoid=Yy2yBjbcOpNAAWySISjkKg&cbp=12,117.64,,0,2.23&source=embed" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small>
We kept the bikes right outside the door, and we were back off the road, tucked in the corner.
I don't know what possessed LDF to buy bad beer. It just goes to state of mind... she wasn't thinking clearly.
We took showers, and headed across the street to the "Say When" casino for dinner.
er, interesting. The good news is that they serve food 24/7.
The cowboys were finishing up supper...
They all wear their hats inside all the time, don't they? At the next table, was a family. All large. Mom, Dad, daughter. Twin boys. Maybe 20 year olds. 300lbs easy.
We start hearing "yip"-ing and "yelp"-ing. We can't figure what the heck is going on. It seems they're having a quiet dinner, and then the table erupts with all this cowboy yelling, and then it stops just as suddenly.
Our food arrived: I had the chorizo sandwich... not that bad.
LDF had the Cobb salad... not that good.
We finally figured out that one of the twins had Tourettes.
It was just such a strange sensation to have spent the entire day with only ourselves for human interaction, and then to land in such a bizzare place.
Guess you had to be there.
We sure slept well that's for sure.
Another long day, with plenty of ups and downs.
It's funny, because this day seems almost a blur to me now. I look at the mileage, and I see that it's low, and I look at the hours, and I see that they're long... and I wonder, what the heck were we doing out there... was it really that tough of terrain?
This is why I do these detailed ride reports, because otherwise I forget. I forget the beauty, as well as the pain. We only do this twice a year, two weeks at a time. In between, to keep it from fading, I need a touchstone; reminders that will take me back. Viscerally. While cooped up in my windowless office, hours on end.
Stat c-section... gotta go.
[It's a girl. ]
No oatmeal this morning... :dg
We were rolling by 7:30... bright-eyed and bushy tailed.
the strange sights just kept coming...
But we were headed for Disaster.... peak, that is.
gloriously sunny day. Perfect weather in the Great Basin. It's a wonder more people don't live out here.
The trail out of McDermitt forgoes any dodging and weaving, and immediately hooks up with a nice graded transit stage,
with lovely views. It was a mite chilly, and the heated grips were a nice touch. More neon green cliffs.
change quickly when the sun rises and sets.
The gravel unspooled like a ribbon in front of us.
We knew what was coming, though, so we enjoyed it while it lasted.
The Zimmerman Ranch is protected like something out of a Medieval fairy tale: First, a moat:
then magic killer peacocks:
Finally yipping dogs that chased us out the other side of the kingdom, back through the moat:
Wet feet. Great way to start the day.
We got our first look at Disaster Peak:
and the trail got a little... shall we say... "indistinct"
"hey, this is a little steep here..."
"Hold on, let me catch up."
"Want me to ride you through?"
"No, I think I can do it."
as we continued the descent.
the usual ruts, and steep, and rocks, and loose, and sage, and water crossings, and gopher holes...
It was great.
I think LDF blew a turn-off somewhere back there. Our Scala's weren't in range, so I had to chase her down... no biggie.
Then she chose the wrong side of a rut that turned into a gulley...
again... no biggie. We were taking our time, picking our way through the obstacles, and most importantly... NOT falling.
You guys ready for this?