Tuesday, September 17, 2002

Joey-the-Kid's 1rst Excellent Off-Road Adventure

Joey-the-Kid had many adventures on his motorcycles. This is another saga from the Motorcycle Chronicles, written several years ago when he prowled the area of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

I hear the sound of bells
floating across the cold water;
Step by step, together we climb
toward the cloudy peaks.
-Ou-Yang Hsiu

It was to have been a little introduction to the joys of off-roading. (After all, I do have a R1100GS, BMW[base ']s Adventure Touring motorcycle). So what if it weighs over 600 lbs? The Illustrious Todd Blachowiak, he of the Olympian motorcycling abilities, said he knew of a nice, easy off-road route down by Cochiti Lake, which led up over the mountains to Jemez Springs. I was expecting a gentle saunter along level or slightly graded fire roads, the wind in my face, smelling the fresh woods and streams of Spring in the Southwest, watching the birds and butterflies. Dear Reader, Why oh Why am I so eternally optimistic and naive?

Todd had a passenger, his lady friend Kristen from Minnesota. We started out auspiciously enough, cruising down I-25 to the Cochiti Lake turnoff, and then rolling along wonderful narrow blacktop towards the mountains. We stopped where the pavement ended to take off earplugs. Kristen has a magical left sleeve in her riding jacket - from it she produced in an endless stream a supply of multi-colored fruit chewies with which she fed me with at strategic intervals. I am not sure if she was trying to keep up my nerves or my blood-sugar.

Todd went in the lead as we went past, of all lovely and improbable things in the desert Southwest, a hidden grove of apple orchards, and then we began climbing. It was one of those steep, big rock and scree covered hills, and I panicked about 1/4 of the way up, jamming on the brakes. I was experiencing what could be called sheer terror. I did not want to drop this $13,000 motorcycle, and I did not want to break a neck, ankle, leg, arm, etc. Todd had stopped up ahead and came running down, accurately sensing my distress. He said "Gee, I didn[base ']t remember this part was like this". I thought [base "]Thanks, pal. And now what?[per thou] He then gave me some good advice about not riding my clutch, and only using my rear brakes. I gulped very hard, said a few mantras, and bounced upwards. From here on I can honestly state I inhabited a state of mind I can describe as a very high grade of low-level terror. In this altered state I burbled and bobbled my way on, splashing through little stream crossings, small sand traps, and all the rest of the hazards that are the [base "]joys[per thou] of off-roading. Sometimes I could keep a line, often just plunked along trying to defeat gravity. So that is my Elemental for the day - Gravity. Nice to know you, now leave me alone. I can honestly say I came within a cats-whisker of dropping RavenStar at least 6 or 7 times, but miraculously didn[base ']t. I constantly alternated between trying to relax and somehow find the flow, and tensing up and hanging on, white-knuckled. I wasn[base ']t quite ready to die just yet. Now all this time Kristen is perched like a bird on the back of Todd[base ']s bike, calmly videotaping the ENTIRE ride with one hand, and filing her nails, writing postcards home, re-doing her makeup with the other (only slight exaggeration here). I call her WonderWoman.

All this time the sum total of my thinking processes revolved around 3 dominant thoughts.
1. How will I survive intact?
2. How will RavenStar survive intact?
3. This would be a wonderful road to PARK alongside, set up a camp, and WALK in the peace and quiet of the forest, enjoying the beauty of this place.

As I jounced around, marvelling that I could be going in 2 diametrically opposed directions simultaneously and remain upright, I would look at the fresh leaves gently fluttering in the sunlight and sigh. Just when I thought it would soon be over, and about 2 miles from where this path was to come out over the crest of the mountains and intersect the highway - read PAVED ROAD, we came to a gate. A large, steel gate. A LOCKED, large steel gate. With a ravine to the right, and impenetrable ridge to the left. No way around. So we stopped for lunch, and Todd asks me, in a very wistful tone of voice [base "]Josef, will you ever ride with me again?[per thou] Uhhhhhhh...

So back we went, and somewhere down the trail as I cruised at an insanely sedate 10 miles per hour, thoughtform # 4 entered my mind.

[base "]Move over Walter Mitty, here comes Joe Beemer on his famous RavenStar, crashing along at astounding speeds in the Paris-Dakar endurance run. It is only a stock R1100GSA, yet he is setting new course records as he plows through obstacles effortlessly, laughing at boulders, leaping over swollen streams. Why, he is unstoppable, nothing fazes him, he is leading the pack! How does he do it?[per thou]

As I enter the winners circle to claim my prize, and gorgeous models line up to kiss me, I re-enter reality for some more white-knuckle motorcycle dancing.

In semi-desperation I decide a little magic is called for, so I visualize a successful completion of this ride, with the 3 of us sipping cappuccinos at Downtown Subscription in Santa Fe, and laughing and telling stories.

Now we go *DOWN* that steep first hill - I leave it to our readers tender imagination to fill in my thoughts here - and finally reach the pavement.

WonderWoman has a photograph of me, next to a very dirty RavenStar. I am on my hands and knees.
I am kissing the pavement.

12:02:29 PM