Sunday August 15th, 2004 Baumgartner, Idaho
Key time for our ride on this day was set for 7am, in the hopes of leaving the Baumgartner campground by 8am. That is exactly what happened, much to my pleasure. Our group consisted of me, Eric, Dan, Tim Harrell and Mark Weaver. We were planning a big day, going up Big Smoky to the Smiley Creek Lodge, and then hitting some trails out past Alturas Lake that Eric had discovered while riding with Bad Brad McNew 2 years ago.
The ride out to Big Smoky Junction was a bit cold, as it was about 11 miles of road. We stopped at the junction and peeled off our warm layers, knowing we wouldn't need them on the punishing trails ahead. We headed up Big Smoky, Eric leading the way followed by Tim, Dan, then Mark and then me. This trail rocks! It quickly became my favorite trail so far. It offers up a bit of everything that makes Idaho special. It had some long scary sidehill sections, gorgeous views of the Big Smoky Creek down below, big gnarly rock sections, nice narrow trails through meadows complete with lurking toe-breakers, and a few creek crossings. I kept having to stop to take in the views. The creek was flowing pretty good and was very clear and blue-green.
Eric and I had gotten a new radio set-up for communicating on the trails. Our little Motorola Talkabouts had come in very handy the previous year, what with me falling off the trail every 20' or so, and we decided to get a better system. It has a push-to-talk button on the bars, 2 killer speakers and a microphone (picks up the human voice only) inside the helmet, and is very easy to use. It's surprising how clear Eric's voice sounds, even when we're both revving out our motors. It was money well spent.
I was plonking along the trail at my usual "Idaho Survival" pace when I came upon a huge cloud of dust emanating from below the trail up ahead. It was *alot* of dust! I thought to myself, "Oh crap! Mark's off the trail!" I had been able to see Mark up ahead most of the time, when the trail would straighten out enough to allow it, but I couldn't see him here. I was about to radio for help when I realized the dust kept wafting up...and up...and up. The "dust" turned out to be steam coming from hot springs crossing the trail and making its way down to the creek. It was pretty neat! I stopped to feel the water and look around for a way to access the creek from the trail, and then continued on my way, making a mental note to return with my suit, towel and hiking boots sometime.
I had a tip-over or two, and then fell completely over a big rock and had to drag my bike back up over the rock and onto the trail, but it was no big deal, really. I learned that the coiled cord on our radios that attaches to the push-to-talk button on the bars stretches a looong way. Eric radio'd me and asked how I was coming along. Told him I'd fallen, but that I would be along shortly. Much to my surprise, I came upon the group about 2 minutes later, waiting at the Bluff Creek Trail junction. We rested a bit and then continued on to the Chemeketan campground. We stopped there for a bit. Tim and Dan did some jetting adjustments and then we were on our way. It's a pretty neat campground, and there are lots of cool trails close by, but it doesn't have a hot tub. Too bad, I wouldn't mind camping there next time if they did. Anyone got a portable hot tub and a big generator?
We had lunch at Smiley Creek Lodge and gassed up, admiring the zillion dollar 4x4 Diesel SportsMobile van in the parking lot before leaving. We headed out onto the highway towards Alturas Lake. We cruised by the lake and it looked mighty inviting. We got to the end of the pavement and rode a forest road, Road 205 I think, a few miles until it turned into a trail. Can't remember the name of it but it's #034 on the Bill Dart map. This is where things got interesting.
I had started to hear some clanking around, but didn't give it much thought. I finally stopped to see what was falling off. Side stand? Still there. Skid plate? Attached. Rear brake mc guard? Check. Hmm...that's odd. I continued riding. The noise was bothering me, and it seemed to get louder, although it was probably just my imagination. I stopped again. I couldn't find anything loose, missing or broken so I continued on. It wasn't handling weird at this point. But the clanking got louder still, and then it started handling funny, as if my front end and rear end were functioning independently of each other. It almost felt like it did when my rear wheel bearings self-destructed. I stopped again. Is my steering stem loose? No. Forks ok? Yep. Damn, what's going on? I continued to ride, although I slowed down and kept my mind on trying to figure out what was going on.
About this time I came upon Dan, Tim and Mark stopped ahead on the trail, 65 miles showing on the clock. It seems Dan was losing his disc guard and had stopped to fix it. What a serendipitous event that turned out to be! I checked my lower shock mount bolt to see that it was still there. It was. I looked the bike over and couldn't see anything outwardly wrong. I pushed down on the front end, compressing the forks, and my seat almost hit me in the back of the head. WTF? I asked Tim what the hell was going on here and had him watch me compress the forks. After seeing the seat and tank buckle up in a most unnatural fashion, he got this weird look on his face and said something to the effect of hoping like hell that it was just my sub-frame coming loose. Well, as you all know by now, no such luck. He grabbed my rear wheel and shook it back and forth. The whole bike wriggled like a snake in the grass.
[image:3748,right] Holy shit! My frame was broken damn near in two separate pieces! The 2 rails that run along the sides of the tank were completely broken in half, nice and clean. The down tube on the left was broken all the way through, and the one on the right was about 60% gone. I tried to radio Eric but he had already ridden out of range. Mark had taken off before I discovered the break, and he and Eric were waiting at a trail junction for the rest of us. Dan took off to tell Eric what had happened, and all 3 riders returned quickly. Man, I should have taken a photo of Eric's face when he first saw the frame...he was NOT happy. Neither was I, of course, but what are you gonna do? Tim mentioned that I was taking this latest moto-failure rather well. Well, the way I saw it was *I* was still in one piece, I was on vacation in Idaho with friends, and, well, it's just a machine, right? Besides, things could always be worse. It could be raining, right?
[image:3746,right] Tim, being the smart engineer-type that he is, came up with a plan: We would splint the breaks with tire irons and hose clamps, and that would keep it in one piece while I turned around and walked it out of there. We were only about 2-3 miles into the trail, with a few miles of dirt road and creek crossings after that. We got to work on the frame, me holding up the front end so that the weight of it wouldn't cause it to break all the way. After sitting there working on it a bit, I started to reflect on what could have happened had I continued to ride it. I was probably about 20 yards away, give or take, from a helicopter ride to the nearest hospital. I couldn't shake the mental image of a jagged broken frame rail protruding from my hemorrhaging chest. Who knows, maybe it would have collapsed on itself and I would have gotten a skinned knuckle out of the deal. But my stomach was tumbling and churning just the same. I didn't feel right for the rest of the long day. And I do mean *long*...
[image:3747,right] There was some discussion as to the best way to deal with the situation. It was determined that Eric, of course, would have to ride back to get the van and come get me and the bike. It was decided that 2 riders would go back together, those riders being Dan and Eric since they could make the best time on the trail, and 2 riders would go with me, those riders being Tim and Mark. That way, we would have enough hands should the frame break all the way and we end up dragging it out in 2 pieces. Also, 1 rider could try to stem the bleeding while the other rider rode like a bat outta hell to get help, should the unthinkable occur. Well, this plan was all well and good til Mark found out that he was actually expected to wait *with* me til Eric showed up. Mark wasn't really into that plan, as he had come to Idaho to ride, so he went back with Dan and Eric. No problem, I was confident that Tim and I could handle anything that came our way. Well, except for the bleeding part, but still, we were good on our own.
[image:3745,right] Tim decided, at least I think it was Tim, that I would be able to ride the bike out *if* I was careful and didn't even *think* about getting anywhere near the front brake. Oh boy. Eric, Dan and Mark took off, Eric kissing me good-bye and telling me about 2,349 times to "Be careful!" Duh...I was not really looking forward to the return trip. I was nervous about riding the Bike From Hell, I was nervous about breaking it all the way and having to drag it out with one working vehicle, I was nervous about falling and spearing myself with a sharp piece of filthy steel. Not to mention my tank and seat were just sitting there on top of all the tire irons, wrenches and hose clamps, unable to be attached. Well, there wasn't really any other option, so...here we go! It was 2:30pm on a bright sunny day with just a bit of cloud cover.
To say the trip out to the road was long would be a serious understatement. I was literally going at a walking pace. In fact, I'm certain that I could have hiked out of there faster, Tech 6's and all. Tim was right behind me and I swear I could hear him hold his breath every time I rolled over a rock or a root. I stood up the whole time, my lower back complaining loudly about half-way back to the road. I kept stopping every 100 yards or so to look at the splints and make sure they hadn't moved. They were pretty solid, they never moved at all. I walked it through the real rocky sections and a few downhills. I walked it up a solid rocks uphill section that I was sure was going to give me problems. I just tried to stay on my feet and not trip on the rocks. I had visions of falling over and breaking the frame the rest of the way. I gotta hand it to that Pampera motor; It pussy-footed along with nary a complaint, and got me up that hill with almost no effort at all. I was sure Tim was going to foul a plug or fall over or something. I'm certain he never, ever rides that slow. Hell, even *I* don't usually ride that slow, but the slow-speed stuff that I do work on was really paying dividends on this day. There were a few tense moments in the creek crossings of Alturas Lake Creek. I don't remember them being that deep, and the extra added stresses of going through the water were taking their toll on me, if not the frame.
We made it to the dirt road with no extra added drama, and figured we were home free. Of course, this was the exact moment that the skies opened up and it started raining. Great...Actually, I was sweating pretty good, mostly from nerves, so it felt pretty good. For the first few minutes, anyway. It got to be a bit annoying after awhile. I thought about stopping at one of the camp/picnic grounds for shelter, but Tim and I discussed it and we decided we'd rather sit in the rain than sit in a campground bathroom for the next who-knows-how-many hours. Good decision.
We made it all the way out to the main road, Highway 75, and found a nice comfy slab of granite to sit on. It had only taken us 1 1/2 hours to get there! It was now 4pm. We put on the clothes we had with us from the early-morning trip on the road, got some peaches and beef jerky, and took our places on the granite slab. We would sit there for 4 hours talking about everything under the sun...I mean rain. We discussed kids, marriage, bikes, what time is it?, riding, drugs, education, bikes, how long do you think it took Eric to get back?, life choices, relationships, jobs, bikes, parents, food, when do you think Eric is going to show up?, bikes, and well...what time is it, anyway? It was a long 4 hours but I can't think of very many people I would rather have been sitting there with than Tim. Not to mention, we were sitting in what could probably be one of the most beautiful spots on earth-the Stanley Basin. We had a good time, considering the circumstances, but we were both very happy when Eric showed up at 8pm.
He had brought us clean dry clothes, a beer for Tim and a soda for me, and Theresa had thought to pack some good food for us. That woman is a saint; very thoughtful and always thinking of others. We loaded up and took off. It turns out it had been a 3 hour drive for Eric, after a frantic 2 1/2 hour ride back to camp. It had rained on them, too and they had bitchin' conditions to ride in. Apparently it was a spirited ride and they had a great time. We got into Ketchum and went to the Roosevelt, where I bought dinner for Tim and Eric. It was the least I could do. We had been discussing what to do, and the only thing we could come up with was to call Baxter and beg like a dog. I knew he hadn't left for Idaho yet, and I knew he had a 3-rail trailer with only 2 bikes on it. I really...really...really didn't want to ask him to bring Tracy's bike with him, but I didn't know what else to do. I've been spoiled by that bike and couldn't really envision myself riding Eric's WR426 for the rest of our 2-week vacation. Can you imagine??
Well, it turns out that I didn't really have to ask Baxter after all. I called him from the restaurant and said, "Hey, Mike, whatcha doin?" all nice-like. He says, "I'm stripping Tracy's Pampera for you, dammit!" Seems Dan had called him and told him what happened. We knew he had his trailer all loaded and was ready to go. All he had to do was put the coolers on the trailer, right where the Pampera was going to be, and he was gone. I felt really bad about it, as I know Eric would have been pissed off had he found himself in the same situation. But I also know that we would have loaded up another bike for Mike or Tracy, no questions asked, had the tables been turned. That's what friends do for each other, and one couldn't ask for finer friends than Mike and Tracy. I understand Tracy was like, "no problem" when told of the situation. Mike said to her that maybe she didn't really understand..."Tami broke her *frame*, Tracy, ok? Her frame. Her bike is in half!" She got a little nervous about that, but still said it was ok. I can't even begin to thank her, or Baxter for that matter, enough. They both totally saved my vacation. I shudder to think what I would have done without their generosity. Tracy has a new rear brake and a suspension re-do coming up, courtesy of one very grateful Pampera rider. Oh yeah, and a new clutch slave cylinder
We left the restaurant, with me feeling a whole lot better about things, and went to get gas. We stopped at a station in Ketchum and right there next door was a bike shop. It had a beautifully restored red and yellow Bultaco in the window. The name of the shop was Beyond Repair. Talk about serendipity! It looked to be nicely stocked with items one would need while trail riding in Idaho, although I didn't see any Pampera frames on the shelves.
We made it back to camp about 1:30am, and got into bed about 2am. It had been a very long day, and a very good one, all things considered. It was an adventure, for sure, and no one got hurt in the process. It isn't often one gets to see someone break a frame on the trail. It was one of those days that won't be forgotten any time soon by the folks that were there. The riding was excellent, the trails superb, and the company top-notch.
Again, a *huge* Thank-You to Baxter and Tracy. Without them my riding vacation would not have been near as perfect as it was. And without them, my life would be poorer for sure. They are great folks and I love them both dearly. Thanks also to Tim, for sticking with me and not complaining about it once. At least, not to my face
I am a lucky woman, in more ways than one.