Getting to the Beginning

The last thing I did before heading out the door was to check the event, on both Facebook and Meetup, to make sure I had all the latest information. There was talk of stopping in town for dinner in the evenings, so I dumped half the dehydrated food I'd packed, donned my helmet, and hit the road.

My parents live about 30 minutes south of me, and I had all day to ride the 3 hours of slab between home and the start of the route, so I stopped by for breakfast. Even when you're setting out to do something exciting, there's comfort in hanging out with the folks. My parents think I'm crazy. They've said as much. They also know that I'm not likely to become sane. Even their stories about the times before I can remember are about my fascination with being on the go. I know they worry, but they've never asked me to stop. I do my best to let them know I'm okay while out exploring.

I spent too much time with my parents. I got on the road in the thick of traffic on a Friday before a holiday weekend. Crawling along at 5 mph on bike loaded down with a weeks worth of supplies and gear for all sorts of unlikely scenarios sucks.

Slab (what we motorcyclists call freeway) is hardly my favorite. Sure, if you're feeling rowdy you can ride fast with little concern, but it's boring. I could have taken a more scenic, less direct route. Maybe I should have. No coulda-woulda-shoulda's. There was no hurry, but I did want to make camp before it got dark.

I turned left at the Columbia River. The highway on the Washington side is entertaining. There are plenty of corners to keep things interesting and some dramatic scenery. I knew just about where I needed to go, and as I approached the waypoint for camp, I got my first taste of dirt for the trip. Nothing rough, but some relatively steep and loose terrain. The camp is not obviously marked, and I seemed to be the first one to arrive. I'm habitually early. I followed the road toward the marked waypoint. It seemed to be beyond a closed gate. I rode further up the main road, passing a very rocky looking road that might have taken me to the waypoint to another gate. There was no sign of anyone else. I retreated to the highway where I'd have cell service to review the plan, check maps, etc. It seemed I was in the right place, so back up the road I went. I wandered around some of the side roads, noting potential camp sites, but seeing no obvious indication of where I was supposed to be. I found a group of on quads and queried them about who they'd seen back on the trails. No luck. Back on the bike, I rode through the final gate into a nice wide open area to turn around. Turning around went great. But the opening between the pointy end of the gate and the edge of the road was narrow, and I didn't have my dirt legs yet.

I slowed, too much, and tipped the bike over. Well, at least I got that out of the way with no one to see it. Picking the bike back up I knew I had too much gear. She's a bit heavy for this sort of riding without all the extras. Trying again, I tipped the bike over again. Stupid. I walked up, opened the gate a couple feet more, picked the bike up, and rode through the exact same place I'd just tipped over without issue. It's amazing how our brains can sometimes be our worst enemies. Oh well, that's 2 tip-overs out of the way, and no one needed to know about it.

Finally, as I was about to ride into town, where I suspected my compatriots were visiting a brewery, I spotted an adventure bike heading toward me. Tyler was second member of our group to show up. We checked further up the paved road in search of camp, but eventually came back to the highway. I'd been the right general vicinity so we returned to what appeared to be the campground.

My cell phone carrier doesn't have much remote coverage. Honestly, I like it that way. When I want to get away, I want to get away. Tyler's carrier had service at camp, so he was able to contact Trevor over Facebook and find out that yes, indeed, he and Kyle were at the brewery. Tyler and I found an acceptable location where we expected Trevor and Kyle to have to pass by and got to chatting. Tyler's done a lot more loose surface riding than I have. He has some great stories and this is why riding with others is so much fun. We get to share in one another's stories.

Finally the group was together, but we wanted to find a better campsite. So up the hill we rode, after I tipped the bike over, again, just getting started. Grrrrr! That's 3.

Up the road we (finally) went. The nicer spots further up were occupied by the time we got there, so up we continued. One of us didn't like the wide spot in the road we found, so up we continued (after I tipped the bike over, again, damn-it!). I honestly have no idea what my problem was, but finally something clicked and I felt connected to the bike in a way I hadn't all day.

We finally found a quite place away from the rest of the campers and settled in for the evening. The idiots tuning their quads at 3 in the morning not withstanding, it was a good night's rest for the day to follow.