I’m intent to get better at this dirt riding business and have resolved to ride some dirt every weekend. This particular weekend I had a ton of schoolwork, but I figured if I start out early enough I could get some good practice in and still be back around 1pm. I ask Marisa and Brian if they are up for a short, easy, newbie ride and they say sure.

The sun climbed higher in the sky and the temperature was heating up. We had been out quite a while now and were starting to get exhausted. My water supply was looking dismal, so we took a short break.  Marisa and I joke that this is “Brian’s Dirt Riding Boot Camp”. The terrain gets a little more difficult with some rocky climbs and larger washes.

“Neither one of them took a nap in the wash (although Becky hit the last corner in a damn impressive two tire drift and blew out the back side like an AA rider (of course, she had a death grip on the bars and was screaming at the time.)” – Brian

I know now that Brian has no concept of the meaning behind those words and I am now skeptical of any time he calls a trail “easy” “noob friendly” or “fast”.

Since we were not going to be out long, I tossed a couple small water bottles in my tail bag and hit the road. Brian hauled Marisa’s TW200 on his jeep to a trailhead and led us out.

Things started out well. The terrain was exciting, starting out as nicely groomed dirt roads, but eroding into a rougher jeep road with enough rock and sand to keep things interesting. Marisa and I chugged along at our noob pace, while Brian drove ahead to take some sweet pictures.

I had discovered momentum was the best way to get over most things and zoom up a rocky climb only to completely blow the turn at the top and fall over.

I almost picked it up fast enough…

We discussed a lunch break and Brian says he’ll pick out a good spot with some shade. I’m zooming along with my momentum technique only to find Brian parked in the middle of a wash. Yes there is shade there, but my whole ‘speed through the sand’ plan isn’t very condusive to quick stops. I decide to go around him and park on the other side. I was going a little faster than I realized though and did a pretty sweet but petrifying manuever to get out of there.

“

I don’t even remember why I fell over here. Just a random sand nap I guess. That’s Marisa trying not to run me over.

She continues past me and starts chugging up the hill out of the wash. It was too steep for second gear and the bike stalls and falls over. She tries to grab it up right away and burns her hand on the engine.

There aren’t any pictures after this point because we have stopped giggling about Brian’s Boot Camp and moved on to jokes about how he’s drug us out to the desert to kill us. After a while we are hoping it’s still a joke…

It’s over a hundred degrees out now. I’ve drank all my water and Marisa is miserable in her non mesh riding jacket. When she removes her glove, sweat pours out like a water faucet. There are holes in her glove from the engine burn and blisters are forming. We stop for a while and Brian offers to load her bike on the trailer.

Now, I have to give Marisa a ton of credit. She could have stopped riding at any time, but she wouldn’t leave me on the battlefield alone and did the whole track like a trooper. She’s one tough cookie.

Brian assures us it’s not much further and we press onward. 

At one point  I get caught up on a large rock in a wash and dump the bike yet again. While lifting my bike up for the third time that day I nearly pass out. Reality sparkles back from the blackness but I’m feeling strange. Everything is in high contrast, sounds are buzzy and I’m starting to feel a bit delusional. I mooch some water off of Brian, but he’s low too and before long, there’s no more water to be had.

We only have about eight miles left, according to the GPS.

We climb a steep hill of baby-head rocks and find ourselves with an obvious road block. Brian suggest we turn back and take the longer, but possibly easier route. This road is blocked for a reason. I look back at the baby-head climb and deduce there can’t be much worse ahead and I don’t want to go back down than crap. We skirt the blockade and press forward.

There are rusted out abandoned vehicles decorating the trail. Miraculousy, no one drops their bikes for the rest of the trek. At one point I have a close encounter with a tree…but the bike stayed up, supported by its crunchy little branches. I launched myself up and out of a rocky wash without paying enough attention where I would go on the other side. When you get dehydrated you stop looking ahead and start picking bad lines. The good part is, you are too out of it to be scared and I found the whole thing hilarious.

At last the GPS states we are right at the road! But there’s one last wash out and it’s a steep one with a tricky turn. Marisa and I park and stare at the obstacle. Brian can tell we are beat, he takes pity on us and walks the bikes over the last wash while we remove our gear and lay out on the ground. We’ve made it!

Well, sort of. There’s a fair bit of pavement left and I’m so out of it I crawl along at maybe thirty miles an hour. I keep visualizing myself flying off the road for no reason. I’m distrustful of the pavement, everything looks like sand traps and loose rocks.

At last we arrive at the Coffee House in Arivaca and drink a million gallons of water.

Brian buys me a smoothie and all is forgiven. No one died and we get to say we pioneered a tough trail as one of our first rides. He is hassled relentlessly for trying to kill us and the ride becomes known as Death in the Desert.

Beast’s previous owner took me up Redington Road on the back of the bike before he signed the title over to me. The desert is spectacular at night. He has a spotlight mounted on the handlebars and used it to point out wildlife. We spotted tarantulas and a family of ring tailed cats. There’s a great lookout point away from the pollution where the sky becomes a blanket of stars. We layed out there on the rocks talking about life and motorcycles. It was a really lovely send off.

———

I’ve owned the KLR for a while now and I’m a little bummed out that even though Sean and I now both have badass dual sport bikes, due to his crappy work schedule, we haven’t ridden dirt together once! I resolve to fix this and when he gets home from work, I tell him to keep his gear on and come riding with me! We go up Redington and lay out on the rocks.

I have a special attachment to this place now and just thinking about it makes me want to head back up soon…

At last the title had arrived! I handed over the rest of the money and took keys in hand. My confidence renewed after the practice sessions on the TW200, I got on my new bike and rode it home on side streets with a friend following behind. 

Sean acquired a KLR of his own and our garage reaches new levels of awesome.

I got a gig house sitting for some people up in the foothills and we decided the ride up there would be some nice practice for us. Not too far, but with some nice turns. He led the way and we headed up the mountain. The last part before their house presents the only real challenge. The rode dips left and downward before curving right into a steep ascent finalized with a tight u-turn to reach their driveway. I’m keeping my distance, but as I approach the u-turn I see Sean had tried to turn too sharply and dumped in the middle (it slopes upward mid u-turn). I knew I should have continued through the u-turn and stopped on a straigh flat place to dismount and help, but I couldn’t just leave him laying there! I tried to stop mid-turn mid-slope and –you guessed it- I dump right over next to him. What a sight! We help each other wrestle our bikes up. He broke his radiator fan, I broke my clutch lever and we both felt a little discouraged. I decided to order lowering links.

The local ADV riders encourage me to attempt a ride up the back of Mt Lemmon. They assure me it is newbie friendly and something I can totally handle…on the TW200. I meet with a small group at Bill’s house to grab the TW. Another rider, Will, gifts me some amazing motocross boots and we head off in high spirits.

I think they are a product of the 80’s.

We parade off to the gas station where the main group is gathering.

There were about 25 riders that day!

We take off and naturally start sectioning off into groups. I’m leading the rear pack with my friends Mike and Will on supermotos, Bill and a couple others who decide to hang back with me.

The first part of the ride is long graded dirt roads and we start really getting some speed up. I’m having a blast, but a little anxious about being so far behind the majority of the group. I give it some more throttle and the adrenaline really starts pumping. I come over a crest at around 35-40mph only to discover a sharp right turn on the other side. I know absolutely nothing about turning in dirt at speed and whatever default response I had was obviously a poor choice.

I’m not sure how exactly I dismounted the bike, I only recall skidding on my right hip and then consciously deciding to start rolling instead because I was getting some wicked road rash. I got up and checked my damage. A rock had embedded itself in the middle of a nice patch of missing skin to create a bullet wound effect. Click for nastiness

I apologize profusely about the TW. Luckily they are fairly tough and the bike sustained only scratches on the plastics here and there. I slapped a band aid on myself and catch up to the group who were waiting patiently under a tree. They wanted to know what was taking so long and why I’m covered in dirt.

I am a lot more cautious after this. I have to keep repeating the “ride your own ride” mantra. It can be hard being a new rider in a group of people who are very experienced. But you can’t ride as fast as them, not for a long time, so don’t try. It’s painful.

Eventually we reach the summit and have some delicious pizza before descending down the paved front of the mountain. Nice tarmac twisties were a pleasant contrast to the rocky climb up the back.

I settled up paperwork for the KLR but would have to wait a week or so for Beast’s owner to pay off the lien and get the title. In the meantime, I needed to get educated on shifting and how not to stall, so I could actually do something with the bike once I got it home. Luckily, I had recently befriended some local dual sport riders from advrider.com and got hooked up with a little TW200 to practice on. Another ADV rider, Brian, had been dirt riding for a while and his girlfriend Marisa wanted to get in on it too, so he took the two of us out to the desert for a learning day. This went well. The TW was forgiving, low to the ground and extremely stable over questionable terrain. I had a couple close calls, but saved it before it dumped each time. My fellow learning buddy wasn’t as lucky and went down on a rocky wash, suffering minor scrapes. I was proud of her though, she dusted off, bandaged up and went out for a second session the same day. This time we both kept upright.