An off … who, me?

I didn’t have a long way to go for my 16th day on the road. I’d heard a lot about Jarbidge, the start (or in my case the end) of the IDBDR and I wanted to spend my last night there. It was only about 300 miles away, but I also wanted to see Trinity Lakes and the springs, 100 miles to it’s north. Also, not knowing what the fires were actually doing, it made sense not to expect to get too much riding in that day. Little was I to know, there were other things that would influence what I was going to achieve.

Also, for some strange reason, I had a bit of a headache and was feeling a bit doughy. Meh …. a late start. I took advantage of the good coffee and WIFI that Jen had on offer and got a couple of posts off. I was on the road well before lunch – it’s light until 8.30 pm. The forest fires had become very significant but, as I’ve suggested, the local fire and forestry services provided good info at points where it became relevant. Maps at intersections showed very specifically where the fires had been and where they currently were, including hot spots. It was all pretty impressive actually. The maps showed the closed areas and Lowman, where the BDR passed through, was right in the middle of it. Some of the remote routes to the north east that other bikers had supposedly taken to get around them and back onto the BDR were burning pretty fiercely, so my decision not to try them had been a good one. They also showed that my route through Placerville and Idaho City would be just below the southern closure line. There was heavy smoke everywhere but, as I got back east, a southerly wind started pushing it away and I had blue sky in front of me. I had to hope that I could find the roads that would link me back onto the BDR. They were pretty clearly marked on the map, but you never know.

I pulled into Idaho City, Jaspers home town. Maaaaaate, it wasn’t such a bad place (for lunch). It was quite a ways from what I expect New York will be though.

I had about 30 miles across to the BDR which was all light sand. The 1190 handled it beautifully – lots of fun. The fires flared up in a few places and I even had an escort through one section. Despite this, there was a beautiful blue sky. It was looking very Australian and getting hot again – 32 degrees and very, very dry.

I made it to another iconic part of the BDR, the ’50 Inch Bridge’, about 2.00 pm. I was making good time and was pretty confident I would be at Trinity Lakes by about 4.00 with enough time for a swim and to be able to set up camp in daylight. The original bridge was starting to get a bit old and couldn’t handle the weight of vehicles. So, rather than close it down completely, the authorities put concrete blocks with a 50 inch gap between them at each end. Thinking outside the box – nice! If your vehicle could fit through them, it was deemed light enough to be able to be supported by the bridge, if it couldn’t …. no cigar sunshine. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I was still on track, I’d missed the fires, had managed the detour OK, was getting close to the end of this part of the adventure and a swim was only a few hours away. Perfect.

Of course, I spoke too soon – without any doubt, I completely and utterly jinxed myself!

There was a steep sandy / gravelly rise for about 7 or 8 miles heading away from the bridge and the North Fork Boise River. I came around a sharp corner quite quickly and ended up in deep wheel ruts full of fine gravel. You can’t relax for a minute on ‘any’ adventure ride and I obviously wasn’t concentrating hard enough. The photos don’t really do it justice, but in my defence, it was a nasty, ornery surprise and the front tyre washed out about half way around. Down I went (pretty low speed by this time – maybe 20 km per hour) half on the bank and half off. Damn, here we go again. I unloaded the bike and had a crack at lifting it. The fact that it was lying against the bank was not the help I thought it would be. I couldn’t get ‘under’ the bike easily to lift it. After a number of attempts, I decided to do what Reg Thompson always suggests in a ‘situation’ like this. Stop, boil the billy, have a rest and a think and then try again. That proved a successful strategy – I slid the bike off the bank, backed up to it, got some purchase and up she came ……. just.

Right O, off we go again. I’d lost an hour by the time I’d reloaded the bike, but still had plenty of daylight. I was a bit concerned about it happening again as I had a good 30 minutes of the same terrain and road continuing up the mountain. I can tell you one thing though – I was as vigilant and focused as an Australian Olympic freestyler. I was NOT going to get caught out again. After a while the gravel stopped, but it became quite eroded while still reasonably sandy. It was a challenging section. I made it to the top and had a long run down to the Middle Fork Boise River. Having got most of the way to the bottom, I rounded a corner and there was something across the road. I pulled up and looked at what was in front of me. It actually took quite a measurable amount of time to process what was going on. I could see it, but couldn’t actually take in what was going on. Then it dawned on me as I stared in disbelief. There was a burned tree, a bloody great log, that had fallen across the road. I’d passed a dozen, a hundred, signs warning of the effects that fires and fallen timber ‘could’ have on the roads through the mountains. Despite this, there’d been nothing on the tracks other than the sign of trees having been cut up and dragged off. Bark, sawdust and light branches – surely this couldn’t be right!

There was no way I was going to be able to move this by myself and a half hearted and pretty feeble attempt soon confirmed it. I did then give it a serous go, but not a chance. The tree was on the ground on one side and about a metre off and up the bank on the other. I took off my jacket, had a drink, a bit of dried fruit and some nuts. Right, OK, yeah, hmmmm ……

It seemed to me that the tree would definitely need to be cut off the track. That was what seemed to have always been done previously, so why would this be different? To expedite the process (and my capacity to continue) I thought I might as well try and contact someone and get things happening. Due to the 50 Inch Bridge, vehicular traffic was definitely going to be minimal and the wait could be a while. I had a clear line of sight ‘upwards’ so decided to use my Delorme InReach tracker to see if I could get some help. It’s satellite driven and allows the capacity to 2 way text. It’s a bit laborious (not like a touch phone) but I sent a message to Reg Thompson in Toowoomba, Australia letting him know what had happened and asking him to contact the Forestry Services, stressing it was NOT an emergency. There’s a SOS button on the device that will have emergency services and a helicopter come to you wherever you are – I didn’t want to instigate this. I was a bit concerned that, with the fires, the help I was looking for would (reasonably) be a very low priority. The text I sent Reg had my latitude and longitude, but with the GPS, I was able to give very precise details of where I was – on Road Creek Rd, 2.1 km from the junction with Middle Fork Rd and 74 km north of Pine. Reg happened to pick up quickly and, with the Forestry Service unavailable, had got into the Elmore County Sheriff’s Department who were going to send up a truck and a saw. All jokes aside, it was the first test of this technology I’d seriously attempted – it works.

I had a couple of litres of water (that I was starting to ration), 3 days worth of food and I was fully expecting to be putting up the tent on the road. It was reasonably steep and, although I could have turned around, I really didn’t want to. It was a long way back to Idaho City and I’d struggle to get back on route without missing a lot of the last of it. I’d simply wait it out.  All in all, I was pretty comfortable and I wasn’t concerned in the slightest – just another part of adventure biking.

Literally 5 minutes after all of this, I heard a motor and a bike turned up from the south.

On it was Keith Varley who was in Boise on business. Rather than spending the afternoon and evening in a hotel room, he’d come up on his bike and was going for a ride. I can relate to that. We managed to push the log off the bank together, but struggled to get it off the road. However, with another branch as a lever, we soon had it clear. Keith was level headed, experienced and a logical thinker – he did an awesome job.

I got Reg to cancel the Sheriff and later rang and thanked them hugely for their assistance. With a wave (and a warning about where I’d dropped the bike earlier – I’d put up tree branches as cairns by the corner on each side of it as a warning) Keith and I each continued in our respective directions. Keith’s following this blog and later emailed me with his thanks for the warning I’d given him – saved a likely off he said. It was great to have been a bit of assistance, as he certainly had been to me – big time!

Reg was too (thanks mate) although, as I said later, this was right up his alley and more than likely his idea of a good time. I’ll be waiting for the phone bill though.

I hit the bottom of the mountain and, as is so often the case, the  nasty, tough terrain turned into the most spectacular road imaginable. It was getting dark, but the ride up the Middle Fork Boise River river was nearly as good as it had been anywhere to date.

After about 15 miles, I was back into stony, gravelly mountains – up, down and around. I somehow managed to miss the turn off to Trinity Lakes in the dark (which was a difficult ride) and ended up coming into Featherville about 10.00 pm. I was a bit cheesed off about this miss, but was pleased to at least have the Clearwater driving lights (6,000 lumen each) which lit up the road beautifully. They’ve taken a beating as the bikes been dropped on both sides and the lights and crash bars have taken the brunt of the experience. I decided to grab one of the dodgy little hotel rooms rather than set up camp – it was the first time that I definitely wasn’t going to wander around the room (or shower) in bare feet. I had a feed in the pub, a couple of beers, watched some college football and hit the sack at 11.30 pm.  I was about 15 miles north of Pine and 185 from Jarbidge, so, surprisingly, I was just about exactly on track. Not quite the way I’d planned it though. What a day – I love riding motorbikes!