In September, 2020, a wildfire destroyed the resort town of Detroit, Oregon. Do a search for “Detroit” on my blog and you’ll see just how meaningful this town has been for me. I have ridden my motorcycles to this place more times than I can count.
The wildfire that took Detroit threatened my own home in Sandy. The boundary of mandatory evacuation orders came within a few hundred yards of my house. The smoke was so thick we almost left voluntarily just to go someplace with cleaner air. Only the risk of exposing ourselves to family members and possible transmission of COVID-19 prevented us from leaving.
Recently I traveled (by car) to Detroit to see the destruction first hand. The route I usually take along highway 224 through Estacada and Ripplebrook Ranger Station, and then Forest Service road 46 south past Breitenbush, is closed due to clean up efforts and risk of landslides. A section of highway 224 burned a few years ago after target shooters started a wildfire, and it suffered substantially more devastation during the latest conflagration. Instead, I had to drive down 211 through Molalla to Sublimity, and east on highway 22.
Reaching Detroit, I could see the evidence of just how massive the fire was. But when I stopped in the town itself and looked at the charred ground where The Cedars Restaurant and the Detroit Store once stood, I felt a deep sadness for what once was.
Site of The Cedars restaurant, Detroit, ORView of downtown Detroit, OR, January 2021, after the fire.Site of Detroit, OR store, gone after fire.
In one lot where a building or home once stood, sticking up from the blackened ground was a white PVC pipe with a Trump 2020 flag attached at the top. The juxtaposition of a Trump flag in the middle of scorched earth was a profound metaphor for just how devastating his presidency was, and the profound irony of someone who refuses to acknowledge his incompetence and lies.
I am very curious to see how, or if, the town of Detroit rebounds and recovers. There is still a lot of work to be done and I saw no evidence of any new construction. Perhaps the locals haven’t returned — to what? — or have given up. Time will tell.
The arrow sank deep into the creature’s throat and it fell backwards in a spray of blood, twitching and clawing at the wooden shaft protruding from its severed windpipe. The man lowered his bow and crouched behind the bushes in case there were others. He watched and listened to see if he had stumbled upon a lone cru’gan or if it had been part of a patrol. The only sound was the wet gurgling coming from the cru’gan’s throat. Soon it lay still and silent, and the only thing the man could hear was the evening breeze through the pine trees.
After several minutes passed, he retrieved his arrow and quickly searched the beast’s body, then rolled it out of sight under a pile of briars. He kicked dust over the creature’s blood, and then moved silently away into the forest amidst the diminishing evening light.
Book 1: Ohlen’s Arrow
This is where it all started. The above excerpt is the opening paragraphs of my first novel, Ohlen’s Arrow. What does it say about an author who’s first word of their first book is “thwip“?
My intention was to create an instant sense of action and a feeling of mystery about the main character that compels the reader to continue the story. There’s nothing I’ve written that has been worked and re-worked more than that opening section, and in many ways, it is the work I’m most proud of.
I encourage you to read Ohlen’s Arrow and learn the rest of the story. It is my hope that it engages your attention and carries you captivatingly forward.
For Kindle and paperback editions of my books, visit my Books page.
In November, 2019, I began work on a new role-playing game based on World War II espionage. I had read Churchill’s Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare by Giles Milton and was inspired to create a game based on the Allies effort to sabotage Nazi Germany’s war machine in general, and England’s Special Operations Executive specifically.
I’ve played a lot of Dungeons & Dragons in my day, first with the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons created by Gary Gygax and sold by TSR, Inc. back in the early 1980s, and more recently with the 5th Edition rules by Wizards of the Coast, LLC. Other RPG’s I’ve played have been G.U.R.P.S. by Steve Jackson and several others. I wanted something that wasn’t as rules-heavy as D&D, yet still allowed players to take on characters of their choosing and fight bad guys.
I figured the genre and milieu of espionage during World War II, located in western Europe in particular, was a rich environment for role-playing action. The stakes were very high for spies during that time, with capture and execution a likely result of their brave actions. The rewards for successful missions, however, had an outsized positive impact on the war effort against the Axis powers.
I came up with a skills-based experience system that rewarded agents with improved abilities based on experience and training, just like in real life. This is in contrast to games like D&D where the entire character rises in level based on overall experience earned. I added an element of luck to the game as well to represent the way real life can sometimes go your way without any apparent cause, and can sometimes go the wrong way despite your best efforts.
After working on the game throughout the year, it has reached a point where I feel it was ready for release to the public. I have made it available using a license similar to the Open Game License used by Wizards of the Coast. In my case, I am making the rules and player’s guide available free of charge, and am selling missions for a small fee. Players can create their own missions and distribute them as long as they do so for free. I may create a marketplace down the road where players can sell their missions for a small commission.
Details about the game and various downloads can be found at my Ashes of Isar page.
I encourage you to download the rules for free as well as a beginner’s mission, Operation Virgin Snow, and try out the game with your friends (social distancing, of course). Let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy it.
By the way, if you’re curious about the name, Germany’s River Isar is a special location in post-World War II history. When Nazi war criminals were caught, convicted and executed, they cremated several of them and spread their ashes in the River Isar to keep their followers from having a grave site or memorial to commemorate their evil. You can learn more here.
I completed my longest bicycle ride to date, 29.3 miles. This ride had a few more milestones as well and some lessons learned that I will discuss here.
It’s the middle of Fall, the days are getting shorter, and dry weather is becoming the exception, not the rule. Fortunately, there was no precipitation on my day off, so my buddy, Keith, and I decided to get out on two wheels for a ride around Washington County.
Trek Domane AL5, “Riff Raff”, at The Bike Gallery, Portland, OR
When we met in the empty parking lot at Liberty High School in Hillsboro, Oregon, it was 38 degrees and foggy. This would be my maiden ride on my brand new bike, a Trek Domane AL 5. I literally had never sat on the bike until that moment, and in fact it was also my first time riding with clipless pedals (although I have recently installed the same pedals on my spin bike at home).
Keith and I did a few laps around the parking lot so I could get used to clipping in and out of the pedals, as well as learn the hand signals cyclists use on group rides. Once I got the basics down, we set off.
29.31 miles, Hillsboro, OR
The entire route was on public roads. Up to this point in the season, I have ridden exclusively on designated bike paths without having to deal with traffic (other than one day climbing the numerous hills of my own neighborhood, where everywhere you go is uphill both ways). Keith led and I followed.
It was a bit chilly at first, as you might imagine, but my gear did well at keeping me from getting too cold. I wore full-finger cold-weather cycling gloves, which were probably overkill by the time we’d ridden 5 miles or so. I also had to unzip my outer shell jacket to regulate my body temperature.
The route we took went counterclockwise around highway 26, the Sunset Highway, taking us on rural roads through some beautiful farm country. Most of the time we were on narrow two-lane paved roads without anybody around. It was nice to ride side-by-side with my friend, at a pace where we could hold a conversation.
There were some small roller hills to contend with and Keith gave me advice on how to prepare and handle them. I’m not yet in shape to handle hills of any extent, but I’m getting there. Overall, I was able to complete the ride without nearly as much struggle as I had expected.
About three-quarters of the way we came upon another cyclist riding a single speed bike. As I passed by I said, “Hey, you look familiar.” It was Keith’s wife, Meagen, riding a portion of the same route. The three of us completed the remainder of the ride together.
Meagen and Keith, Nov. 20, 2020
By the time we got back to my car, we had ridden 29.3 miles in 2 hours, 15 minutes. It was my longest ride to date. Note: It is my goal to ride 100 miles by October of next year. I guess I’m 29% of the way toward reaching my goal.
What was noteworthy about this ride is I was using a bike I had never ridden before. I had recently purchased it from The Bike Gallery in Portland, after getting professionally fitted by Zak Kovalcik. The Trek Domane AL5 performed wonderfully. Although I had conceptually understood the value of a professional fitting, I could recognize its worth in a very tangible way on this ride.
I had very little problem clipping in and out of my pedals, but I still need to burn into muscle memory the way I shift gears on the drop-style handlebars. I’m used to the old style of mountain bike shifters where you use your thumb and forefinger. It won’t take me long once I’ve gone on a few rides.
I have decided to nickname my bike Riff Raff, after the AC/DC song and the character from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I’ve been flying X-Plane 11 since it first came out and recently gave Microsoft’s latest version of its venerable Flight Simulator a try — it’s first update in over 10 years — and my first reaction is Wow!
This new version offers real-world satellite photography to dynamically generate the scenery, allowing the virtual pilot to fly anywhere in the world without having to pre-generate (or buy) photo-quality scenery ahead of time. The visuals are stunning and very realistic.
I already knew that would be the case when I decided to purchase MSFS 2020. What I wasn’t prepared for, but was delighted to experience, was how refined and elegant the interface and mechanics of the software actually is. This doesn’t come across as what is essentially a first-gen product. Refined really is the best word for how the simulator runs and how you interact with it.
I really like X-Plane 11, and still feel it is the more realistic simulation in terms of how it simulates flight. But MSFS 2020 is a leap ahead in terms of product quality, from how it installs to how it automatically detects and configures your flight control hardware to how you work with the AI and air traffic control systems once you’re airborne.
Comparing X-Plane 11 to Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 is like comparing a command-line version of Linux to the latest version of Apple’s OS X operating system. They both get the job done but one is substantially more refined than the other.
There’s that word again, refined.
Although MSFS 2020 is a new product and still has some bugs and functionality that’s not yet in place, this is a flight simulation product that all flight sim enthusiasts should try.
Just make sure you have two things: a large solid-state hard drive and a very fast internet connection.
I am relatively new to cycling, at least in a serious manner. I rode bikes back in my 20s but would never have considered myself to be a cyclist. Since April of this year (2020), and the subsequent COVID-19 lock-down, I’ve gotten back into it, and this time I’m giving it a proper go.
Through this process, I am learning as I progress. I started off by buying a bike without a lot of thought into the purpose of components, frame, geometry, or any of that stuff cyclists pay attention to. For the most part, it was a reasonably versatile bike that the local bike shop (LBS) had in stock that was an eyeball fit for my height. Good enough. (For those who are curious, it is a 2020 Giant Escape 3 Disc.)2020 Giant Escape 3 Disc
As of this writing, I’ve put 450 miles on the bike and have been bitten by the cycling bug. It didn’t take me long to realize, however, that it wasn’t the type of bike I need. The stock saddle was a nightmare (for my anatomy; for some it may be wonderful), so I swapped that out for a Fly Chromoly saddle from Terry. It was a noticeable improvement, but I still have tailbone pain after rides of 15 miles or more.
Terry Fly Chromoly saddle
This leads me to my first tip: get a professional fitting and buy the bike best suited to your body and riding style based on their advice.
Professional Fitting
I went to Bike Gallery in Portland, Oregon (their Hollywood location) and paid $175 for a professional fitting. The process takes about two hours and covers practically every detail about my body, flexibility, fitness, and riding style. As a result of that fitting, I have ordered a Trek Domane AL 5 with carbon fork and Shimano 105 group set.
2021 Trek Domane AL 5
When the bike arrives, the technician at Bike Gallery will adjust all aspects of the bike to fit my specific measurements. I can’t wait! Stay tuned for a review once the bike arrives.
Clipless Pedals and Shoes
In addition to getting fitted for the bike, the tech at Bike Gallery also helped me choose clipless pedals and shoes. I went with Shimano RX8 shoes and Shimano pedals. Currently, I’ve been wearing flat-soled tennis shoes to go with the flat pedals on my Giant, but will be looking forward to clipping in.
Shimano RX8 Gravel Shoes
The weird thing is calling them clipless pedals even though you are clipped in. Regardless, the benefits are consistent foot placement, a stable platform when you stand up while riding, and improved efficiency with every stroke of the pedals.
Fueling the Body: Water and Food
I have learned that drinking enough fluids and staying properly fueled both before and during a ride is very important. Drink a minimum of one full bottle of water for every hour you ride at a moderate pace on relatively flat ground, double that if you maintain a faster pace, climb any hills, or if the weather demands it. Drink small amounts throughout the ride, not all at once at long intervals apart.
It is also important to stay fueled. Eat complex carbohydrates and proteins that are slower to digest before the ride, and take with you small snacks to eat along the way. These should be easier to digest for quicker energy. I take fig newtons because they travel well, don’t melt when it gets hot out, and have a good combination of carbohydrates without a lot of artificial ingredients.
Apps and Ride Tracking
There are a lot of mobile phone apps available to help you keep track of where you go and how fast you get there. I rely on the Activities app built into iOS, and have added Strava as a third-party app. These give me all the data I need to see how my fitness level is coming along.
For data gathering, I use an Apple Watch series 4 to track heart rate and other data points. This data feeds into the Activities and Strava apps. I don’t currently use a separate heart rate monitor, but that may come down the road. I also do not have a cadence or power meter on my bike. Currently I use a simple bike computer that tells me speed, distance, and time.
On my home computer, I use a website called Kamoot to plan routes. It is free, although there are paid options. It is fantastic for mapping and determining relative difficulty of routes. These calculations factor in traffic volume, road conditions, shoulder width or designated bike lanes, and elevation gains.
Tools
There are a few simple tools and supplies you’ll need to maintain and enjoy your bike both now and in the future. Don’t be intimidated by the thought of bike maintenance; it’s easy and actually kind of fun. Keeping your bike in good shape not only makes it last longer (thus improving resale value when you upgrade), it makes the bike perform better which makes you perform better.
Your tires and chain probably need the most attention. Your tires need to be properly inflated based on their size and your body weight, so this requires an accurate air pressure gauge that can measure PSI (pounds per square inch) up to 160, and a pair of air pumps; one is compact and goes with you on the bike and the other is a floor model that you keep at home. Use your gauge to check your tire pressures at least every other ride.
You need a small bag of some kind that straps to your bike, either under the seat or attached elsewhere on the frame. In this bag you will carry a spare tube (or two), a pair of tire removal tools/levers, and a multi-tool with bits that fit all the main components of your bike.
I recommend carrying a compact air pump to inflate tires while on rides, rather than the CO2 cartridge repair kits. Cartridges can run out but an air pump will keep working as long as your muscles hold out.
The floor model air pump you have at home should have a built-in pressure gauge and be able to reach pressures of 160 PSI or higher. I use a Bontrager Charger floor pump and have been very happy with it.
Bontrager Charger floor pump
Your chain needs almost as much attention as your tires. Keep it clean and lubricated and it will serve you well.
I suspend my bike on the Hollywood hitch-style bike rack I put on the back of my car. This holds the bike above the ground at a decent height, and lets me rotate the pedals forward and back unrestricted. On the ground underneath, I lay a large sheet of cardboard to catch oil drips.
Hollywood hitch-style bike rack
I use a large spray can of WD-40 to thoroughly wet the chain and sprockets, working the pedals forward and back and even shifting gears. I wipe this down with a box of paper shop towels. This cleans road grime, dust and dirt from the chain. Once the chain has been wiped off, I allow any remaining WD-40 to evaporate away. (Don’t use WD-40 as a primary lubricant.)
The next step is to apply a chain lubricant. There are many available, so I don’t have any specific recommendations. As far as frequency, though, I recommend cleaning and lubricating your chain after riding in the rain or on dusty trails, or every 150-200 miles, whichever comes first.
Learn To Fix Flat Tires
One final piece of advice I have is to learn how to repair a flat tire using just the tools and supplies (spare tube) you carry on your bike. It’s not a difficult process (there are plenty of YouTube videos showing you how) but it’s a good idea to practice once at home so you are familiar with what needs to be done when a flat occurs out on the roadside or trail.
I suggest you practice once for your front wheel and once for your rear wheel, as the process of removing those wheels from your particular bike are a little different.
As you may have noticed, I recently expanded the breadth and capability of the Ruckerworks.com website. I changed hosting providers to a system that is far more capable of handling high traffic, and I implemented e-commerce capabilities that allow me to sell my eBooks directly without having to rely on Amazon.
Because I am now selling the Kindle versions of my books directly, I get a much larger percentage of each sale than when I sell them through Amazon. If you are the kind of reader who likes to support independent authors, this is a great thing as a big chunk of your reading dollar isn’t going toward helping Jeff Bezos buy a new yacht — or a small island.
I also have the ability to directly connect with my readers and those who buy my books. I have set up a newsletter for site and book updates, and have a Contact form so readers can get in touch with me directly.
Through this site-wide upgrade, I hope to establish a stronger and more immediate connection to my readers while still providing direct access to my written works.
Let me know in the Contact Me form what you think of the site. Happy reading! – Steve W.
When I [re-]started bicycling in late April, 2020, the best I could do was a 12-mile there-and-back ride on the Springwater Trail from Boring to Gresham and back. I averaged maybe 12 mph and had to stop numerous times, especially on the way back to Boring (it’s uphill, about 300 feet of elevation gain).
Writing this, it sounds pathetic. 12 miles? 300 feet of elevation gain? Those stats barely comprise a simple warm-up for most cyclists. But for someone like me who hadn’t exercised in any formal capacity for years, and who’s occupation involves sitting on my ass 9+ hours a day, it took some getting used to.
As I write this, it’s the first week of October. I’ve ridden close to 400 miles since then (still, a paltry number) and have seen some encouraging gains. I can now ride that same route there and back without stopping and average 14 mph. It’s not much of an improvement, but to me, that little bit of gain is encouraging and empowering.
Recently, I attempted my first Quarter Century ride. This is 25 miles in a single outing. I accomplished this goal, which was significant for me as it’s the longest I’ve ever ridden in one shot, even compared to when I rode back in my mid-20s.
My route started at Gresham Main City Park. I rode the Springwater Trail east to Boring so that I got the uphill portion of the trip out of the way first. I paced myself so that I wasn’t pushing it, wearing myself out too early. I have a bad habit of riding too fast too soon and using up my energy too quickly, not having enough in the tank to finish the overall ride. This time I made sure I maintained a moderate pace with the longer distance in mind.
This ride was on a 2020 Giant Escape 3 Disc.
Giant Escape 3 Disc
After a brief break in Boring, I headed back to Gresham. Once back at my starting point, I ate a 100 calorie granola bar and then headed west toward Portland. I mention the granola bar because I’ve been learning the value of fueling and hydration on rides longer than 30-60 minutes. The idea of eating during exercise is new to me, but I’m trusting the wisdom and knowledge of countless cyclists who came before me and have learned what works and what doesn’t.
The ride from Gresham west to 111th avenue (Beggars-Tick Wildlife Refuge) is almost completely flat with no elevation change at all. I sipped water frequently as I rode and by the time I got to 111th street, I was ready for my second granola bar.
At this point I was feeling confident I could complete the ride. My butt hurt (more on that in a minute) but my legs were doing fine. My average heart rate so far on the ride had been 155-160 bpm. Not bad for a guy in his early 50s. Another thing I’ve learned is not to stop too long, so after wolfing down my granola bar and drinking some more water, I backtracked east for the final leg of my ride.
By the time I got back to Gresham Main City Park, my trip computer said I had ridden 23.4 miles. I wanted to hit 25 miles officially, but I knew that my legs could have gone another 5 miles without too much complaint. I was out of water, though, having taken only one bottle (a lesson learned), and my butt was very sore.
The ride took 1 hour 47 minutes, I averaged 14.1 mph, over the 23.4 miles distance.
I had ridden my first unofficial (23.4 miles) Quarter Century ride and I felt very proud. I was also very happy at the relative ease for which I’d done it. Although it was difficult, it wasn’t as difficult as I’d anticipated. Having done it, I’m confident I can ride 30 miles, maybe slightly more, if I take enough water and snacks.
Now, I’d like to address the butt soreness I mentioned. I’ve been wearing cycling shorts that I bought back in the early 90s. They have a chamois and are still in good shape, but I realized that the chamois inside doesn’t actually have any padding.
Oops!
Reading reviews and watching educational videos on YouTube, I realized that today’s cycling shorts and bibs have some decent padding in the crotch, not just chafing resistance material.
I recently ordered two pairs of black cycling bibs from The Black Bibs ($40 a pair, awesome!) They didn’t arrive until two days after my long ride, and when I inspected the padding in the crotch, I realized I’ve basically been riding without any padding at all with my 25-year old shorts. Dumb!
Based on this, and considering that the dominant limiting factor of my quarter century ride was butt comfort, I feel like 30+ miles is very doable for me. That, and taking along enough water.
I will likely post a review of my black bibs after I’ve had a chance to ride with them a time or two. Stay tuned.
Back when I was a young man, living in the big city, I rode my bicycle all over town. An abandoned train track nearby had been converted into a pedestrian and bicycle path (called the Springwater Trail) and we quickly became very good friends. I even rode from my apartment in the city to the home where I grew up.
I moved to a smallish town in the foothills where everything was uphill both ways, and my poor Trek hybrid bicycle fell by the wayside of time.
Twenty years have passed and, after being stuck at home due to the COVID-19 quarantine, I decided to get back into bicycling. The intent is to get out of the house and get some exercise.
Back in April, I purchased a Giant commuter bike, the Escape 3 Disc, which is basically a rigid frame road bike with lower gearing and wide, flat handlebars.
Giant Escape 3 Disc, 2020
I had the bike shop throw some rain fenders on it, and I changed to an after-market saddle, and away I went.
As the weather has allowed, I’ve ridden an average of twice a week on the Springwater Trail, typically from the terminal end in Boring, Oregon to downtown Gresham and back. It’s just shy of 12 miles round trip and is uphill on the last leg back to the trailhead in Boring. It’s been a great workout and I’ve noticed my ability to get back to the car with fewer stops, and my average speed has improved.
A common goal of road cyclists is to ride their first Century, 100 miles in a single outing. I’m a long way from being able to do that. So far my longest ride was 15 miles in 1 hour, 15 minutes. I intend to get there, though, but it will remain to be seen if I can reach that goal by the end of next season.
In the meantime, now that it is mid-September and the rainy season will be soon upon us, I got a spin bike for inside my home. This will help me maintain the fitness indoors that I’ve gained on the outside bike.
Next season, I hope to upgrade to a proper road bike with drop bars and better gearing. Right now I have my eye on the Trek Domane AL 5, but time will tell.
[Update 9/28/2020: After speaking with a local bike shop, they told me their back-order for bikes from the Trek factory are due to arrive sometime in April, 2021. Yikes!]
For now, though, I’m not getting much riding in at all due to the wildfire smoke that has blanketed my state. Breathing outdoors is a dangerous activity.
For nearly 20 years, I have been curious to reach Badger Lake on the southeast slopes of Mt. Hood, in Oregon. It is near my home but very remote, with only one road in. That road has a reputation for being disagreeable, and that reputation is well-earned.
Once I got into motorcycling, and adventure touring specifically, my curiosity and desire to ride to Badger Lake increased. I knew it was possible, as I’ve seen evidence on the Interwebs that dual-sport riders have made the trek, but the majority of what you’ll find on YouTube seems to be 4wd trucks reaching the lake. None of the videos or photos you’ll see are of a particular section of the route, however, and there’s a very good reason for that. It would be like trying to take a selfie while getting mugged.
I decided to take a stab at it for a quick overnight camping trip off the back of my 2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650.
2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650, “The Grey Mule”
I did the best I could to investigate the route, the road, the campground, the weather conditions, even the fire hazard (there’s a small-ish fire burning twenty miles to the north of the lake). There are some things you just can’t understand until you experience them for yourself, however.
The NF 4860 road from NF 48 is in fairly decent shape. The first few miles are even paved, although there are some huge potholes that need to be avoided. Once the pavement ends, the gravel road is easy enough to handle. There are some narrow sections and a few ruts, plus some depressions where deep puddles would form in early season or when it rains. I stood up on the pegs and took my time. So far, nothing seemed insurmountable or overly dangerous for my bike or my skill level.
I found the 4860-140 spur road and noticed the sign. 4wd high-clearance vehicles only, no trailers, and I saw two little ideograms with red slashes through them. One was a quad and the other was a motorcycle. “Hmm,” I thought. “Why can a 4wd truck go through but not a motorcycle?”
Seeking adventure, I pressed on and soon found it.
Map source; Topozone.com
Spur road 140 is the only road into and out of Badger Lake. It makes a sweeping 270 degree arc from the south and looping counter-clockwise toward the west. The leg heading north is tolerable, although the ruts get noticeably deeper and the road is quite a bit narrower.
I had to maneuver in some tight spaces to get around an oncoming vehicle (a Toyota 4Runner, if I remember correctly). When 140 makes its bend to the west, however, is when things got gnarly.
The road surface became very rocky and rough and began descending in earnest steeply toward the valley floor. I was standing on my pegs, ass all the way back against the camping gear strapped to the back of my seat, and both brakes engaged. Without any margin on my right separating me from the very steep drop to the valley below, I descended the bumpy and rocky road as slowly as I could while still maintaining control of the bike.
I quickly realized that stopping was not going to be easy, and turning around was physically impossible. I would have to reach the bottom before I could get back to the top.
At one point another 4wd vehicle was crawling up the hill toward me. He pulled up against the bank as far as he could go and I inched past him between his vehicle on my left and the cliff on my right. There was about two feet of ground underneath me and my right foot only had a few inches of loose gravel to touch (gently!) to keep from falling to certain death. My aluminum tank bags were about two inches away from scraping the side of his vehicle.
Gingerly, I made it past him. I got the back wheel into a divot between two large rocks to arrest my descent and took a quick breather. I knew I couldn’t stop too long or think too hard about what was going on or I would likely lose my nerve. I put the bike back into first gear, let out the clutch, and stood up on the pegs to continue my harrowing descent.
I rode down the steep, rocky slope one bang and bounce and jerk and foot at a time. At one point my bike slid sideways off a large rock and bottomed out, smacking my skid plate hard on the rocks below. Fortunately the front wheel corrected and kept me pointing mostly in the direction I wanted to go rather than toward the cliff on my right.
The experience was similar to a controlled crash, where you’re only partially in control. Gravity was pulling me down the slope and I was unable to fully arrest the descent, all I could do was struggle to keep the bike pointed in the most deliberate direction I could. I’d say I was only 70% in control of the situation at any one point. My mind kept flashing, “You have to ride UP this!” and I kept fighting to push that thought away and focus on what I had to do then and there. Time enough for the climb out if I make it to the bottom.
I could see the slope easing ahead and I caught a glimpse of a tent tucked in the brush. The valley floor was within sight! Then I noticed the moguls. The grapefruit-sized rocks gave way to large in-ground boulders mounded up in an uneven pattern, gaping depressions nearly two feet deep between them. A four-wheeled vehicle can pass over the top, sort of averaging out the highs and lows, but a two-wheeled motorcycle must choose a track and go through them.
My bike jumped and dropped and lurched around and my speed increased. I smacked my skid plate and hoped I didn’t leave any hard parts behind. Somehow, 95% through sheer luck alone, I bounced my way through that 20′ section of rocky moguls and was still standing upright on the other side.
The slope evened out and emerged into a wide area with a small tent camp with a Subaru Forester — wait, how could a Subaru get through that? — on my left, and more campers in the brush to my right.
I spotted the lone outhouse pit toilet on a slope to my left and the bumpy road going forward. I was surprised at how many campers were there and began to worry that I’d not find any open sites for me and my tent.
I passed several more campers and saw the road narrow and turn hard right through some dense brush. I stopped and wondered if the road was even viable. I took a chance and rode forward, made the hard right turn, and saw a large brown puddle spanning the width of the road. Water crossings freak me out, especially when you can’t see how deep the water is or what rocks or other obstructions lie underneath the surface.
I approached the puddle and stopped. All the water crossings I’ve seen on video have the rider sitting down rather than standing on the pegs, feet wide for balance. If you have to put a foot down to catch yourself, you get wet. Deal with it. But you keep the throttle going and keep going forward.
That’s what I did. Feet wide, throttle open, I rode forward through the chocolate water — and made it out the other side.
I was dismayed to see even more campers surrounding the road’s end. I parked the bike and shut it off. Then the shakes started. The exertion of what I’d just experience hit me hard and I mentally forced myself to stay calm, relax, and realize I’d made it safely to the bottom.
I drank water, walked to the lake’s edge to take some quick photos, then went back and sat in some shade and ate a granola bar as my nerves calmed down. Mentally, I kept telling myself that I could do it, that I could make it back up. I didn’t have a choice. I can do this. If a Subaru can do it, so can I. I can do this.
Badger Lake, Oregon
There wasn’t any room at the inn, that much was clear. I’d have to go back. I made the decision and then forced myself to stop thinking about the challenge of riding back up the hill. I’d do it, taking each foot of the climb as it came, and not dwell on the difficulty. I’d do it. Period. That settles it. Now get on with it.
I suited back up, got the bike turned around, and gave gravity the finger as I lurched and jumped and bounced my way back up that gnarly, evil hill.
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About Steve
Like many fantasy authors, Steve Williamson was introduced to the genre when he played his first game of Dungeons & Dragons. It was during a family camping trip in May, 1980, and as he and two friends sat inside a travel trailer rolling dice and fighting orcs, the air outside became gritty and hard to breath. It was permeated with the fine gray ash spewing out of Mount St. Helens which was erupting just sixty miles away.
Steve now lives in Western Oregon in the shadow of another active volcano, Mount Hood.
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