First "Real" Trail Ride---To Monache Meadows

      
First "Real" Trail Ride---To Monache Meadows
“The Beast” and one SDS Adventure

Background Note; Two years ago I obtained my first ever motorcycle license. My son, Brian, took me out to some motorcycle only areas a couple of times, not too far from Los Angeles. It was a great but basic introduction and my love of trail riding began. Shortly thereafter, I purchased a used 2007 Yamaha XT225 multi-purpose bike. But alas, for quite some time there was not much riding for after a while, as life's other priorities, took precedence.  But cabin purchase in trail riding country, with miles and miles of trails and roads to explore, was all the motivation which was needed to be a good rider.

The 1983 Yamaha 550xt aka “The Beast” 
In the back of the 40 foot sea container perhaps 30 steps from the cabin sat a 1983 Yamaha 550xt, dull white scratched fenders and dented tank, the rest faded black, weighing in at 300 plus pounds, somewhat of a throw-in from the cabin purchase. The seemingly tired giant had sat mostly unused for many a year, but its previous owner must have loved it as it was kept it in ready-to-go condition. Shortly after the cabin purchase I struggled to back it out of the container. It was with great effort the old giant started. As I sat on it, it seemed immense compared to my 2007 xt225. It seemed to be way too much bike for me and always would be. Maybe I could sell it, but who would want such an animal, condition unknown? It seemed as an old war-horse, with many a scar of nicks and dents and pieces bent here and there. If it could only talk, it would have many a great story to tell.

For a year I practiced my trail riding skills on my newer and pretty blue and white XT225. Oh how I struggled with riding in sand! Waffling is a poor description of how I poorly managed driving in sand. One cannot go on any trail or road up here without seeing a lot of sand, so this skill is a must. My coach and son Brian, kept telling me “Momentum is your friend”. Geez, give it more gas when in this soup, it’s totally counter-intuitive to the unknowing. As I got better, with all the practice, I kept hearing the call from the back of the container, “take me, take me”. So I set my goal on graduating to the tired old giant.

Several months ago it was time to heed its call. With two kicks a great rumble arose from the aged four-cycle 550cc’s. Speedometer doesn’t work, tach bounces crazily, left turn doesn't work, key lock long gone, but no matter. First gear and we rumble forth, it feels like a boat ride on a calm lake as it coasts through the sea of sand in the drive. Out to the almost desolate paved highway we rode, and is it as if I had never been on a bike before! This bike, this old war horse, wants to run and run it does. The cool late afternoon air engulfs me and it feels great. With no speedometer or working odometer, it’s as if the old horse is saying, “No need to know what miles are behind only what lies ahead, no need to know the speed, travel the speed at which you feel right.”

After this first ride, I knew I had found a wonderful new companion. We practiced and practiced in areas nearby. Up and down, cross deep ruts, sweeping banked turns, and my nemesis, sand, lots of sand, straight away, on curves and hills. My war horse friend now, affectionately deemed “The Beast”, may be old, but the torque kept me going through many difficult turns and hills. Large rocks, ruts and holes, The Beast had seen them all before. The old horse kept telling me not to be timid, give him some gas and to let him do the work….”remember, momentum is your friend” and certainly this Beast has momentum!

The Beast and I became best of friends. The way I figure it, when he was new in 1983, I was 32 and I could’ve been at the height of my motorcycle skill had I rode as a youth, which I never did. My twisted logic says at this place and time we were meant to be together, both old and dented but still lots of energy to expend. During this time he always was ready to go and never quit on me, even when we had some low speed “incidents” where I “fell off the horse”. But no matter, he was always ready to help me more. A kick or two and that wonderful rumble became music to my ears. The Beast and the old man, but I think we need an adventure!

"The SDS Adventure--The Ride to Monache Meadows"
Saturday morning September 6, 2014 begins with a hearty breakfast cooked on the outdoor grill. Bacon with the eggs and pancakes cooked using the bacon grease, just like the days of my youth. It is bright and sunny with not a cloud in the sky at 6400 feet in the eastern Sierra’s. Temperature in the mid 50’s but promises to climb to the 90’s by mid-day. Today is the day where the Beast will take me up the mountain and then down to Monache Meadows.

Monache Meadows is accessible only by hiking, horseback, serious 4x4’s or of course, motorcycles. Monache is a 250 acre meadow set at about 8000 feet, bordered by the Golden Trout and South Sierra Wilderness areas (no vehicles of any kind allowed in Wilderness Areas.) On the northeast edge of Monache Meadows, the 12132 foot Olancha Peak majestically rises. All the locals say “you MUST go to Monache Meadows”.

My trail riding coach and son, Brian, says I am ready for the journey. We will climb up the mountain on a paved road to about 7500 feet, then continue up old forestry roads to the challenging trail down into the bowl of Monache Meadows.

Before we begin, we double check our stuffed packs. Each with 3 Liters of water, energy bars, head lamps, extra layers of clothing, first aid kit, wraps and bandages, hunting knives, foil blankets, InReach satellite communication devices and other miscellaneous emergency gear. All is in order. Don the big stiff motorcycle boots, shin pads, pants with zippered vents, breast plate and jacket, gloves, helmet and goggles. Check the bike tool kits of wrenches, spark plugs, tow straps, and extra brake and clutch handles. Top off tanks with gas and we are ready to go. Coach Brian asks, “ You ready?” I give him the thumbs up. Coach follows with cautionary words “Remember it’s an easy ride up the mountain, keep the speed down and don’t cut in on any of the corners, as there may be traffic coming down and they may be taking the corners wide”. With these final words, at 10:35 a.m. we are off and up the mountain.

Just about ready to leave home base

As I ride up 5 Mile Canyon Road on The Beast the feeling I have is difficult to describe. The road weaves back and forth, all the while the cool and clean mountain air rushes by, and there’s a grand picture at every turn. The Beast is cruising with a medium rpm rumble and it is feeling good. It promises to be a SDS day! As it will turn out, it was. But this is not to say, it was not without an incident or two.

We come to the turn-off to the forestry road and stop for a moment or two. A few words from the coach: “Pick your line and stick with it and let the bike do the work.” Brian continued, "You lead, I'll follow". The war horse rumbles in agreement and off we go. The road would be pretty rough in any four wheeled vehicle, full of ruts, rocks and roots, plenty of turns and those nasty lengths of sand. The Beast barely notices as long as I give him the gas to do it. We are cruising, weaving side to side, a big rock, no problem, slight acceleration, unloading the front wheel and The Beast magically coasts over it. Across and over all obstacles, up and down and all around. This it is a wonderful way to start a trail ride!

Cruising on The Beast

After some time we are at the top of the bowl of Monache Meadows and now the trail goes downhill and becomes more difficult. We again stop and some more words from the coach. “Remember pick the line and stick with it. If you need to brake, use the rear, stay off the front brake. If you use the front brake remember, “feather it” with two fingers and never hit it hard. Ahead are a lot of steep banks back and forth, keep the speed up and let the bike do the work. It’ll feel great!” Brian takes off down the hill. A moment or two of self-doubt came and went, then down I went. Quickly, on this descent I had good speed, as I took the banks on a high trajectory with great weaving back and forth I was beginning to feel like a pro. I was brought back to reality when I heard the sound of high rpm bikes to the rear. A quick glance in my mirror showed there were two bikes behind. A slight wave of my hand for them to pass and they blew by. It was a great sight to see such skill as they whizzed down the hill, a level of skill I shall never attain. The speed, the bright colored new bikes, shiny gear and age of the riders caused me to think "What the heck am I doing here??" But a thought appeared, as if The Beast were speaking to me, “When they are our age, will they still be running as well as we?” But, no time for pondering as the road ahead had some urgent challenges.

Coach Brian and Monache through the trees

Halfway down Brian pulled over and dismounted. I followed, took off helmet, jacket and breast plate. The cool breeze felt fantastic against my wet and sweaty t-shirt. An energy bar, water and 10 minutes to relax and enjoy the view was just what I needed. Our goal, Monache Meadows, could be seen in the distance between two trees. As we prepared to begin anew, the coach said; “Now the trail gets more difficult.” “Geez!!”, I thought. He continued, "There are some real tough spots ahead. You need to concentrate on not slowing down or stopping. I want you to try and use no brakes, unless of course you are going to run into a tree or something. Just put it in first gear, pick your line and let the engine do the breaking for you. There are some large rocks ahead (my term would be boulders), just let the bike run over them. Remember, do not use the brakes unless absolutely necessary! You’ll do fine.” With these final three words of mini encouragement and mounting self-doubt, we ventured on. I do not recall but fragments of the next few adrenaline filled minutes. Upon reaching the bottom, I was breathing heavily, but had a huge smile. For me, this is memory enough. Quite frankly, I think The Beast was smiling too, as he was just softly rumbling.

The sudden opening into the great expanse of the meadow was quite a contrast to the tight trail amongst the tall trees. It almost took my breath away. And there was Olancha Peak; still quite a distance but was the central point of the horizon. We stopped briefly for some final words before proceeding on the level seemingly easy flat road ahead. The coach’s words, “The next stretch has lots of “Whoops” (continual Big bumps, like moguls on a ski slope). Stand up, use your legs and as the front wheel goes to the bottom shift your weight to the back and DO NOT power into the trough or you could go over the handle bars.” Off we went, and Wow, nice. as this was fun and relatively easy….for the first quarter mile or so. But then! The continual up and down were like squat exercises and soon the burning in the thigh muscles began. Lacking stamina! Fortunately, they became fewer and fewer as we neared the edge of the Monache Meadows.

Whoops ahead

Brian wanted to explore the many dead end roads which projected out of Monache’s perimeter. Much of these roads were comfortable and a relatively easy ride in comparison to the trail that got us there. I crossed my first river. Not much water, probably 15 feet wide and maybe eight inches or so deep. Kind of a pea gravel bottom and quite an easy crossing but my first nonetheless! Shortly thereafter we stopped in the middle of Monache Meadow. Turning around it was 360 degrees of awesome wonder capped by Olancha Peak. I could not help reflect that this was a SDS moment. Perhaps I shall never venture to this place again. I had to take it all in. I took out my InReach device and sent location and message to home base stating all was well and we had made it to our destination.

 

Advising Home Base Location & All is Well

We continued on, taking this road and that to its end. For how long I do not know. One road’s end found us at an old ranch of sorts, a log cabin and large fenced pasture very near the base of Olancha Peak.

An Original Homestead?

Olancha Peak

The cabin was boarded up with signs stating “Property of the US Forest Service”. One could not help but wonder when and who built it. Between the log joints of this cabin was concrete, insulation to keep the cold wind out. While the cabin seemed quite old the newer concrete held a signature of "Charlotte" along with the very clear date of "9-7-56". One day short of exactly 58 years from our visit! I was four years old when Charlotte had applied the concrete. What kind of person was Charlotte who called this place home?

Exactly 58 Years Ago!!

All dead end roads explored, save one! This final road was to end shortly after a crossing of the South Branch of the Kern River. As Brian and I looked at the river crossing, we saw a very rocky bottom with rocks two inches up to large boulders, the river maybe 30 feet wide and perhaps less than a foot deep. Brian said; “Wait here and let me see what’s ahead.” He bounced around a bit, but easily crossed and disappeared into the forest of the other side. A bit later, perhaps only seconds later, my confidence bolstered by the easy roads of the last couple of hours or so, I decided to cross. There are no witnesses to my second river crossing but I do know it was not a pretty sight, bouncing and weaving with legs flaying and being dragged in the water, but I did make it across. Then a short ride of a hundred yards or so to the surprised Brian, who was at the end of the road. We dismounted, took a breather, water and energy bar. We walked amongst the river boulders and saw some small fish in the river. Time to head for home, or so it seemed.

 As we about to depart, I shifted to first gear and “snap”, the foot peg on the gear shift lever broke off. The weld from thousands of shifts, finally gave way. Momentary panic, then a minute or two of creative thinking and we were easily able to make a bend in the lever to serve as the foot pedal.

The Problem and The Fix

I think The Beast was almost apologetic as I started it up and back to the river. Brian’s instructions continued in a common theme, “Sight your line, get some good speed before entering the water and let the bike do the work.” Brian crossed, dismounted, took off his backpack and got the camera out to capture my Grand Crossing.

I am already in Trouble

But perhaps, I had become complacent. I hit the water at a very low speed and was immediately in trouble. After bouncing around only a few feet the front wheel hit a large rock which I had planned to avoid, which turned the wheel sharply to the right....down the war horse and rider went. After initial panic I mentally assessed I was not hurt, Concurrently, Brian was running into the water asking if I was ok. I was ok, but I was half up, half down, sideways in the water, my right foot trapped underneath The Beast. Before I could figure out how to move the bike to get up, Brian set the bike upright. We both pushed it to the other side.

Upon further inspection of the bike we saw the rear brake pedal had been bent into the foot peg in a strange metallic embrace of sorts.

"The Metallic Embrace" after the fall

The brake would be unusable in this condition. The more troubling question was; “Would The Beast start?” Perhaps remembering that he had told me to wait, i.e. not cross the river in the first place, Brian frustratingly says, “Ya know Dad we are as far away from home right now as we ever have been all day!” I felt like stating one of my favorite sayings but thought the better of it and did not remind him: “Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end.” If the bike didn’t start, none of the options were great but let’s see what he does. I tried a dozen times or more but with each kick there seemed to be no life in The Beast. Exhausted I gave up trying to start it. Brian took over and several kicks later, he finally woke up with that sweet rumble I have come to love. Well.....the sound was never sweeter than now. We let the bike warm up as I shed some wet clothes and went back to the brake problem. Believe me when I say, I once again thought of this as a great SDS moment. Sopping wet, bike a rumbling and how to fix the brake lever? Trouble yes, but not really a big problem, as “it was not yet the end”.

After several tries there could be no bending it into shape on the bike, so disassembly was required. Once off, trying to figure out how to bend this thing became a huge challenge. Finally it appeared hitting it with a big rock on a rock was making some headway albeit ever so small. Just at this moment the high pitched rumble of four bikes and riders appeared, knights in shining armor, if you will. After some brief introductions and a show-and-tell of the problem one of the riders had an idea. He pulled out a big wrench from his bike tool kit with a little brainstorming in about ten minutes we had the brake lever bent back into a usable shape. Eureka!

Fixed!!

As I set my mind to the task of reassembly, the group and Brian were talking. I found it more than a little interesting a fair amount of the initial talk was centered around my rumbling old horse. They talked somewhat fondly of the old bike about this and that. Their shiny new bright bikes were a sharp contrast to the old design and faded low rpm war horse of mine. I could not help but wonder they thought me crazy, the old man and the old bike, but I felt wonderful, a badge of honor if you will. But no matter their thoughts as they were very friendly and a great help.

When they knew we were ready to ride, they disappeared back up the road.

Knights to the Rescue

BUT, they chosen not to cross the river and I had! Perhaps if I had a brand new expensive bike, I would have thought the better of it, but now I have a Super Memory of this grand day, especially since two out of three river crossings had been successful!

The trip through the meadow and out of the bowl was once again a blur for which I have scant memory, except for when I once again tipped the horse and spilled over in a very low speed incident. Broke two inches off the clutch lever in the fall, but no matter, the war horse never even uttered a whimper of discomfort…..Momentum, Momentum….one can never lose sight of that.

At the point of the journey whereby we could take the forest road from whence we came, or we could take a slightly longer paved route back to the main road. Brian asked which way I would prefer. I was beginning to get weary and I opted for the paved road. Final coach instructions for the way home, “You’re tired and once on pavement it can be easy to lose focus. Keep the focus, there can be traffic, you must not lose focus!” I rode home slower than the ride up enjoying the late afternoon sun and sights. Once, as I was following the weaving road back and forth, I found myself humming “….the long and winding road which leads to….” tune which I had seen the 72 year old Paul McCartney do at a concert a few weeks earlier. I soon caught myself and was reminded of Brian’s cautionary words and went back to focus and made it home without further excitement.

It was as a war horse returning from battle, with now broken and bent clutch pedal, bent rear brake pedal and broken clutch lever, nearly empty gas tank along with one weary rider. As I came to a stop with all adrenaline expended, I dropped my head to the handle bars for a moment or two, and breathed a  deep sigh of thanksgiving. But, I thought, as predicted: It was the end, and everything was indeed, all right!

The next day, I went to start The Beast and I believe it started before I finished the kick. I am convinced he wanted to go on another great adventure. This old horse reminded me of our old family black lab, years ago, who, when I opened the closet door where his leash was kept, got super excited and was ready to go for a walk. Well he soon groaned as I turned off the gas to the carburetor and ran it dry, then slowly I wheeled him to the container and put him away. Another adventure would come some future day. But the six and a half hour ride we had had the day before had been an unbelievable Single Digit Syndrome Adventure, for the both of us.

A Natural Progression

The Back Story to the Monache Meadows Ride. 
This trail ride was something I really wanted to do and it was not done on a spur of the moment. Considerable forethought and months of preparation went into it. Following is some insights into what and how I got myself to the point where I thought I was ready.

Late last season, Brian and I went on a “beginner trail” which was a relatively short ride and I rode my smaller XT225. I learned much on that ride and between Brian and I, it was clear I had much work to do if I were to progress to another level. We had a numerous discussions on this matter. In the final analysis, I needed significantly better basic motorcycle riding skills. Many to be without thinking. i.e. I need to be able to do things automatically, without having to think about them. Things like, when to shifting up and down, depending on what the trail ahead was doing or what the obstacle there may be. Picking a line, then going for it and keeping the focus out in front to the next line decision, accelerating out of sandy turns and such. Many of my early problems were from my eyes were focusing two feet in front of me, leaving no time to react to the next bump or rock, so I often slowed down too much. I needed to focus way ahead and let the bike to its thing on the chosen line, as I picked the new line for what lay ahead. Also, I struggled with going downhill, especially in sand.

In spite of all these short comings it was solely my decision that I wanted to get to a higher level. I also soon discovered trail cyclists need a great deal of upper body strength and stamina, dahhh. They make it look so easy. I was clearly not in good enough shape to handle even the small bike, nor did I have enough stamina throughout the upper body for a ride of any significance.

To get better I needed to get hours behind the wheel to make things habitual and not to over think things and give the bike some speed; It’s basic physics, spinning wheels want to and will go forward. The faster they spin the better they will do so. From a physical strength point of view I needed a big change of attitude and commitment to working out. I worked diligently on them all.

 A few months prior to the trip to Monache, I had tried The Beast, but after the initial ride, it was clear that the big bike could handle the challenges of the trails much better, but I needed to spend a lot of time on the horse to learn it. The heavier bike and the higher gearing of the bike resulted in higher speeds which accentuated the need for more effort into building my stamina and upper body strength. Much effort went into these activities prior to our story ride. On several occasions Brian and I rode out and he would follow me to witness my progress.

Brian, the coach, and I have “an arrangement”. He does not encourage me to do anything I have not already decided to do or am ready to do. Everything is my choice. I tell him my concerns and perceived weaknesses, and he gives me his opinion on these and other things I need to work on. He leads me on ever more challenging rides, but, where he believes I have the overall skill to handle. His concise coaching comments in the trail ride story, were the specific things I needed to be reminded about at that moment, based on his knowledge of the trail and my past performances as well as skill level.

Trail riding inherently has many risks. No matter the preparation, there could be a bad situation. I accept these risks but I have been trying very hard to mitigate some of the risk through proper preparation. One can never mitigate all risk. You either want to do it and accept the risks or not.

I played hockey and football throughout my youth. We were always very well prepared but there was always a chance something bad might happen as soon as one entered game. Every time one puts the bike in first gear, something bad might happen. But, you want to play or not?

It was with all of this in mind, I wanted the trip to Monache Meadows. “Put me in coach, I want to play!” Brian had travelled the trail several times before, knew it well and knew where I was, skill-wise. No sure thing, but no game ever is. There was nothing totally new, during the ride which The Beast and I had not practiced. Yes, the trail hills were steeper and the trails had longer strings of challenges, i.e. one right after another, so more than I was used to, but that’s the nature of ‘getting in the game’. Enough practice, I want to play the game!

As to the fall into the river, I have concluded I had the skill level, but my mental preparedness was lacking; too much thinking, caution and self-doubt resulting in no speed. I should have made it but alas, at least a lesson learned with a story to tell.

Significant preparation was also in what we brought with; emergency gear, first aid, bike tools and satellite communication devices. We had plans for the worst, but I hoped I had trained for the best.

Lessons of “The Ride”:
1)  Skill level ok, but all aspects could use more work
2)  Stamina an issue
3)  Upper body strength an issue
4)  Mental toughness and focus needs improvement
5)  Trail Riding is exhilarating!

So need to work on all of the above. I have joined "The Studio Physique Athletic Club" run by former St. Louis Rams running back, Justin Watson (who earned a super bowl championship ring in 2000).  I am trying to push through the strenuous workouts three to five times a week for one to one and a half hours sessions. I am being pushed, whereby I can truthfully say, I have not worked so hard on physical preparedness, since the summer of 1969, when high school football coach, Jim Sims, drove us to exhaustion in his infamous two-a-days.

And I cannot wait for the opportunity to get on The Beast for some more practice runs, for there are plenty of areas to be explored and SDS stories to be experienced.

So, as I said at the outset the trip was not done without significant preparation and forethought combined with a self-sense that the 62 year old was ready.

Final Thoughts and Observations:
These remote and very lightly patrolled places are cause for wonder and are truly beautiful. Upon reflection, I find those who venture to these areas have a deep respect and appreciation of these wild areas. When we came to vacant camp sites, I saw they were left in a very natural state with no litter.The “rule of the road” (and the law) is one must stay on the road/trail, even though the smoother ride may be just a couple of feet to either side (like the whoops road sections). I was witness to no vehicle tracks heading off where none should be. No freelance tracks on the meadow floor. What I found were great and helpful people who are very respectful of this pristine wilderness. I feel proud to be a member of this group of adventurers.