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Because this report covers so much territory, you’ll be getting it over the course of the next few days… a motorcycle soap opera of sorts!! DAY TWO The day started out innocently enough. We were gently awakened by the lulling sound of a crop-dusting plane that flew overhead so low that we thought he was going to land on top of us and it was LOUD!! If anyone thought of sleeping in, that thought was dashed right away (well, that on top of the freight trains going by and that damn rooster who started crowing at three fricking o’clock in the morning didn’t help either). We stumbled out of our tents to the breaking dawn as the sun rose in the East – not a bad thing to wake up to (and I use the term "wake up" loosely as many of us never really slept). It’s quite a sight to come out of your tent to the sights and sounds of 150 people with bikes and tents spread out in front of you. Todd was the man of the morning as he cooked eggs for anyone who asked. Gotta love a man who can cook! Packed up, we threw our gear into the chase vehicle, and readied our trusty steeds for the day’s journey. Our particular start was hampered by Wendy’s bike overheating (she found out after she got back from the trip that it was a blown head gasket… yikes!!) and trouble shooting that. Once we got some water in her radiator we journeyed on. Now, the route had a few, um, challenges (Yeah, that's the ticket!) as the directions that had been provided had a few, um, incorrect turns here and there. Details, details… oh, you’re supposed to turn right here instead of left? After two or three of the creative details set us back (many thanks to those nameless few who kept waving at us to turn around or go the other way), we decided to stop off and purchase ourselves a map of the area and double check where we needed to go which helped immensely. Solidly set (well, sort of) with our destination, we were ready to continue onward and upward but wait… where was Rob? Oh, there he is… riding on the side of the road in the dirt. Talk about a man itching to try out the new toy… any little patch of dirt he could get into (there was no GS route the first day) and he was in it. The route included an optional loop on a road called Balch Park Rd. Due to delays because of the boo-boos on the route given, many people opted out of this particular section. Well, there were some of us at certain points that wondered if we shouldn’t have opted out as well but, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead! It started out innocently enough – two lanes, pretty well paved – and then BAM!! Holy Hairpins, Batman!!! One after the other after the other, a succession of turns as the road narrowed and we got to add potholes, dirt, gravel and other fun accoutrements to the list of challenges. Those of us on cruisers had a bit rougher of a time of it over the potholes, as CC so eloquently put it: “I think my a** got shoved up into my shoulder blades at least three times!!” And we also decided that the dangerous curves road sign was sadly understated when it came to the curves on these roads! Think the Mad Hatter... on crack... upside down... on a swing... in the middle of a hurricane... that might give you a sense of the twists and turns. But there were also some gorgeous stretches through the redwoods and dense foliage – the smell of the forest filled our senses as we traveled along one narrow section of road with walls of ferns, trees, and flowers on either side of us… and a view of the mountain ranges stretched out in all their glory at one turnout that we just had to stop at to enjoy the view. While it was a very challenging section of road and included some butt-pucker moments (and almost put CC in traction), in retrospect we were glad we did it and proud of the achievement of having done it! Although we could have done without the search for an answer to one of the poker run questions: what animal is on carved on the top of the teepee at the Balch Park Visitor’s Center? Well, it took us 20 minutes to figure out here was no fricking teepee!! Grrrrrrrrr… The next section of the route included a jaunt up 190, a blast of a section of road that at first was more frustrating than fun due to two mini-vans who set a crawling pace that made a snail look speedy. It was quite a sight to see this long string of bikes itching to get past them… and every time they passed a turnout to pull out and let us by and DIDN’T PULL OVER, well, let’s just say you could hear the cuss words all the way down the hill. There was one couple riding in the front of the pack and the passenger kept shaking her head and pounding her fists, frustrated as the rest of us. This same couple got around them which was good (passing on a blind corner – not so good!) and the passenger was yelling at them to use the damn turnouts and get out of the way. They FINALLY pulled over and we all passed them silently (or not so silently for some) cursing them and their lack of decency in getting out of the way. We zipped our way up the rest of the section of road, delighting in the sheer joy of the right-left leans, one after the other, over and over! Most of the day, we ran in two groups – the Twist of the Wrist Group (those who liked a zippier pace) and the Putt Putt Group (those who actually wanted to see the scenery they were driving through!). We were playing tag with everyone as paces varied as did their stops along they way. Bert and Kate, Patrick & Leah, Vic and Debra, and Pamela, among others would all go zipping past us only to have us zip past them at another point… it was like motorcycle leap frog! At one point, the Putt Putt Group thought we were behind everyone and then all of a sudden they all came out of nowhere behind us at a stop sign… where the heck had they hiding?? Finally, we stopped at Doug’s Café in Springville for lunch and lots of water as the temp had definitely climbed since the start of the day. From there, we headed up 190 again, a few turns here and there, Kern River Hwy., and finally turning off onto Forest Rte 22s05, aka Sherman Pass, climbing up and up and up and over, resting at the top of the mountain at a cool 9200 feet elevation. It was at this point, that CC and I looked at our current mileage which was around 70 miles and looked at our map trying to figure out how much farther we could go before needing gas (we cruiser riders are a bit tank-challenged and usually max out at about 100 miles to a tank, especially given all the high altitude riding we had been doing that day). Looking around, we got a bit nervous as it really didn’t look like there was anything around for quite awhile other than trees... there were lots of those. We decided to play it safe and coast as much as we could on any of the downhill stretches. The next section of the forest road was a bit on the treacherous side, complete with lots of sand all over the road. We heard later that one bike had gone down when, turning back to check on his wife, he hit a patch of sand and the bike just went out from under him. Broken collarbone and a tow back for that poor guy but glad it wasn’t anything more serious. We also were jarred by the loud sound of a huge helicopter overhead as it lifted deadwood out of the forest. We came upon the front group as they waited patiently for us to catch up. Rob, knowing the cruiser tank limits, asked how many miles did we normally do on a tank. I said 100. My trip meter read about 77. Patrick and Stevie, our sweep vehicle (yes, we were even behind the sweep vehicle) had been by and said there was gas in about 30 miles. Hmmmmm… we should be able to do that, I’m thinking (hoping). On we went, fingers crossed and words to the motorcycle gods for good mileage! We traveled to where the gas station was supposed to be only to find it wasn’t there anymore and the nearest gas station was another 23 miles away. The trip meter read 99.9 miles. Now, we were starting to sweat a bit. But CC and I took the lead with the comforting knowledge that the group had our back and would be there to help us out should we run out of fuel (I also started to think that maybe Vic had a good idea carrying a thermos with a bit of extra petrol for those emergency moments!). The last stretch of this particular road was Nine Mile Rd., a beautiful (and almost all DOWNHILL, thank goodness) stretch of road that snakes along the side of the mountain – you could see it stretched out in front of you as you descended. CC and I traveled most of it in silent mode – putting it in neutral, turning off the engine, and coasting down. It was actually pretty cool as the sound of the wind wasn’t muffled by the din of the engine. Down, down, down, we rode finally coming to the bottom of the hill at 395… 123 miles on the trip meter. Looking right and left we couldn’t see a gas station. Argh! But the sign in front of us said there was a town to our right in three miles - Pearsonville. CC and I looked at each other, called out our war cry “C’MON BABY… THREE MORE MILES” and headed off down the road. There on the left was one of the most beautiful Shell gas stations we’d ever seen. As we removed the gas caps, you could hear the echo of the sounds of a tank filled with pretty much nothing but fumes. Gassing up, we again saw dust trails across the road… the Aussie was in the dirt again. What a surprise! The last part of the route was about two hours of pretty much straightaways via 395 to our final destination in Bishop. It was getting dark and we hadn’t really planned on taking quite this long. So we pointed the bikes for Bishop and drove and drove and drove, straight and straight and straight – we were like riders possessed – talk about tunnel vision. We passed road signs saying “Elk next 14 miles” and I swore that if one damn elk got in my way, so help me, I would run him down! We finally pulled into camp at 9:30 p.m., to the supportive cheers of the SMC gang (“Yay, they made it!”), a little cranky (okay, a lot cranky but we got over it), hungry (most of the food had been put away so we grabbed what we could from the leftovers that were sitting out), and definitely ready for more grape juice. Give me the bottle and a straw, dammit! We set up our tents – we were getting pretty good at this camping
stuff – and sat about chatting about the day and relaxing with
friends. A few people decided that they’d had enough of the camping
experience (what, you wanted to sleep?!? You can sleep when you die!),
and ventured out to find a hotel room nearby. Vic, Debra, and a few
others pulled in about 11 p.m. having had a similar exciting experience
with the search for gas! Our total mileage for the day – 364 (s)miles!
How would we be able to top this day? Stay tuned for the next installment...... Peace,
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