For 14 years now I have gone motorcycling with my father and brother. In recent years the opportunity has been reduced to just an annual occurrence. I haven’t been very good at keeping track of when or where we go. I know that we have covered miles of high country in southeast and central Idaho, but at this point I couldn’t tell you when or where. Mostly I just have good memories of very high places and some wild trails.
All of dad’s good (funny and scary) biking stories start with, “don’t tell your mom but…” In that same spirit, don’t tell Callie but …
We rode the mountains between Malad pass and Downey today. Before we went I checked Google Earth. There isn’t really very much land there – from a satellite. On the ground the world is much different and I learned just how much land lies between the interstate and the state road we take through Preston, Idaho to visit my parents.
When we ride we focus on trails that provide us with the best scenery. None of us are motor cross racers nor do we aspire to be. My wife has to much invested in me and would kill me if I rode anything dangerous. Which is why I start this with don’t tell Callie. The loop we rode today seemed tame enough. It wasn’t long. None of us checked a topographical map before we went. Big mistake. Today’s ride from Cherry Creek Campground was technical. By technical I mean that I am pretty sure that these mountains have claimed lives. It is fall and in recent weeks the clouds have left the area wet. Where we were it left the mountains wet – with snow. A week is usually time enough to let the ground dry, but in the shadow of the mountain (Oxford Peak) the snow melted slowly and unfortunately for us left the thick mountain clay in a state akin to a giant mound of grease. Two foot boulders, 30-35% grades, greasy mud, and stair step tree roots meant that for a good portion of the ride we were forced to push the gas and pray. I personally spent most of the uphill on one wheel – the back one. Wrestling the front one back to the ground proved to be as futile as getting my daughters to clean their room. I kid you not, it was that steep. The rocks and tree roots, added obstacles, did their best to throw us from side to side, and the mud ensured that the bikes went anywhere but up. Dead, fallen trees on the sides of the trails extended ghostly fingers in an attempt to ensure we never left. We were glad for helmets that deterred their attempts and saved us from nasty cuts. If heights weren’t enough to deter the adventurous then you are in for a treat. The views are amazing. They come at a cost of water crossings. I am not sure if we need off road stickers for the bikes or boating permits. We crossed more creeks today than the sum of all crossings in my previous 14 years of riding. The epitome was the final 300 yards to the trail head. Remember that we had made a loop and so had no idea what lay ahead. Dad pointed out that he remembered thinking, “wow and entire day and I didn’t get my shoes wet.” Today being Friday the 13th means that thinking such things is very bad. No sooner had he thought that then the trail dived into the creek. This was not to be a crossing. For 100 yards the trail was the creek. I have no idea who thought of this, but it is a very bad idea. They should be forced to cross it over and over and over again. For 100 yards we muscled bikes over two foot moss covered boulders in an icy stream at 7pm in October. It was like riding on oil, and yes our feet did get wet.
Overall the trip was a lot of fun if not a bit perilous. Most of the aspen had already lost their leaves – they looked ghost like against the evergreens. Luckily for us in some more sheltered areas, the younger aspen proudly held their color and looked like giant patches of gold against the rugged hillside. Some of travails took us through these groves – a luxury we paid dearly for in the pathways we traveled to see these sites. I don’t think we will be going back to the east side of the mountains. I will leave those trails to the insane. Sure people ride, but that is because they are stupid. The west side is pleasant and next year we are going to be sure to ride it in the fall.