Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sierras and Rubicon trail, street, dirt and rocks
I had been wanting to do an adventure touring ride since before I got my dual sport bike last October and while I’ve put quite a few miles on it since then, including my current 900 mile per week commute, I’ve sadly only had the opportunity to take her off road twice. Being a smaller bike, it gets excellent fuel economy, averaging 80-85 mpg, with a low in the 70-75mpg range if I run her into the red for long periods of time. In that regard, this makes her a great touring bike because I can go such long distances on so little fuel. The downside is that the bike only has a 2.3 gallon tank, though I resolved that with the fuel can rack I made. Of course to achieve that great fuel economy, this means my average speed is 55-60mph which I’ve actually come to enjoy, if you’re not in a hurry to outrun the rest of the world, it works out just fine. Over time I had slowly added on the proper outfitting for a dual sport touring ride, the requisite rear rack, hand-guards and RAM GPS holder, the later of which I will unfortunately not be using as 2 days ago I accidentally ran my Explorist through the washing machine with a load of laundry. DOH! 
While I have plenty of miles under my belt on the street, I do have to admit that I am somewhat green off-road, having only taken my XT225 out twice, once to Forest Hill and once to Hollister. Of course, I did want something that would offer a decent challenge and would add significant value as a portion of the overall loop so I chose the Rubicon Trail. In researching what it is like to ride this trail I’ve heard everything from “have a great time, it’s a lot of fun” to things like “have you made out a will yet” and my personal favorite was that I’ll be an “inexperienced rider on a marginally adequate bike for the task.” In all fairness to myself, I’ve run that trail yearly in my Jeep for years so the terrain is familiar and prior to getting into motorcycles I was a semi-pro level downhill mountain biker having spent the majority of my recreational life on two wheels. Maybe I was just trying to convince myself it would work out fine, maybe not, but in either case, the plan was in motion and I was rearing to go with my only real concern being ascending Cadillac Hill with a bunch of weight on the back of the bike.
Being my first real, albeit short, adventure ride, I wanted a decent mix of street, dirt, camping as well as the requisite remote and somewhat strange hotel experience in addition to keeping the mileage reasonable as time and my own constitution are the limiting factors. The plan was to head out Friday, ride to and mostly through the Rubicon trail camping out partway through Friday night, then Sat finish up the trail and head into South Lake Tahoe where I’d stay at a local motel, finally heading home late Sunday morning taking the long scenic route back.
The route headed to the trail was roughly 160mi, the trail and back to the road is around 18-20 and the return route was about 190mi for a total of around 370 miles round trip had everything gone according to plan. Alas, the trail did best me partway through and one of my contingency plans was called into action.
Five days a week my ride is about reaching a destination, this time; it was just about the ride.
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As far as my gear, I was trying to keep it real simple, here's pictures of what was mounted to the bike and what I was actually wearing.
- Sleeping pad
- 5 degree bag
- Softside cooler
- Rucksack
- 4hr firelog (not pictured)
Inside the cooler was my food and cooking gear, coffee and some light first aid supplies, including a whistle should things go badly. The cooler had rope on top that was for both the hammock and for winching the bike should the need arise. Rucksack had the hammock, change of clothes, toiletries, book, etc.
In addition to the load the bike was carrying, I was wearing a camel back and a military style "gun belt" that held a canteen full of water. Boots, knee/shin guards and my jacket rounded out the rest.
Inside the camelback aside from water were a few small tools, lighter, pump and of course a BFK. 
While a decent focus of the ride I had planned was the Rubicon itself, the trail was actually just a section of an overall ride, that would end up taking me through some of the most beautiful scenery California has to offer with a total trip distance of 424 miles, 15 of which were some of the most difficult I had ever ridden. Reading through tips and advice from forums and people who ride, in addition to my own experience on the trail, I had a good picture of what to expect from the Rubicon and what challenges I would face. While I like to think on the positive side with that old saying of, “you can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it”, I did have a couple of contingency plans should something go awry and in the end, I ended up putting one into action as the trail did best me midway through; this time at least. And while in theory I think I could have pushed on and made it further if not all the way through, I do try to think with safety first and by that point I had gone so far past what any reasonable person would consider safe it was time to take the alternate route.
I’ve put many miles on the Serow on the street and with a 170+ mile daily commute including a good stretch of interstate, I have shamefully logged very few off road miles and this in fact would be not only her first long distance ride at over 400 miles (ok it is to me at least) but only her third time in the dirt with me at the helm. One day I’ll work up to some of those long distance runs I love to read about on ADVrider.com, but I suppose you do have to crawl before you can walk and for me it started out with figuring out how to load that little bike up with all my gear. I had installed a Turbo City rack on the back which is quite stout and is what I used to mount the gas can racks I fabricated to, which I’ll get into more detail on later. Even packing minimally, I still had to contend with a major lack of space; at a minimum I needed my sleeping bag, cooler with food and some sort of tank bag for spare tubes etc.
I was able to cleverly, in my mind at least, rig up a mil-spec rucksack as a tank bag, which in the end worked out extremely well and when I got off to hike around, doubled as its intended function of a backpack. With clever lashing, straps, a net and a couple bungee cords, I was able to mount up the rest of my gear on my little mule and head for the hills. After filling up my gas cans, which saved my bacon in more ways than one and on more than one occasion, I rode around a little bit to get used to the new distribution of weight, which on the street proved to be negligible; the trail however is another story. :)
One of the first things in order, aside from food prep, was to make sure I had at least some sort of first aid kit. Amazing what $5 will get you at Wal-Mart, this little kit had all sorts of things in it and once I bolstered its contents with some upgrades of my own, it makde a perfect bike first aid kit that found a permanent place attached to my camelback. With the addition of the supercompact deet spray, I was ready for the mosquito infested trail.
Of course let's not forget the important stuff and for portable food storage, I've found nothing near as good as my vacuum sealer. You don't actually need to suck the air out, you can just use it to create an airtight sealed bag, which will sit on top of you cooler ice just fine keeping your food fresh and safe from cooler water. I don't know how I got by without one before.
All loaded up, I am ready to hit the road. Amazing how much crap you can cram onto such a little bike. While I could in theory have gone ultralight, ie, hammock and bag, no cooler, no pad, etc. I figured I might as well be comfortable. :)
Taking the long scenic route to get to the trail, I hit a stretch of HWY50 in the Sacramento area that proved to be less than fun. Some 'tard with a shortbed pickup truck full of what seemed to be sawdust merged onto the freeway right in front of me, a thick cloud of dark brown dust billowing out from behind his truck, leaving me in the wake of his dirty exhaust and carpentry waste. After stopping at the side of the freeway to let him get far ahead of me, which was no great feat as I cruise at 55-60mph, I pulled off to stop at a gas station and eat lunch before making my final ascent into the hills.
The ride going up Icehouse Road was awesome, I’d made the trip in my Jeep many times but from a bike you just experience more of the world, taking in more of the view than any enclosed car could provide, the feeling of the road and the smell of the trees. Lazily winding up the hill the smooth road twists and turns offering a new vista at every bend as you leave the rest of the world behind you finally reaching the Ranger station where you can check in and get your fire permit.
Incidentally, for anyone considering having a campfire without a permit, don’t. The fine is enormous while the permit is free, there is absolutely no reason not to get one and they are good for the whole year.
I stopped for a moment to look at the memorial plaque for Air Tanker 6 and in spite of the fact I had no one to talk to anyway, offered them a moment of silence in thanks for their service. Though once I got to the part that says “erected by…” I couldn’t help but remember this classic line “Behold, rising before you, the greatest erection on the continent... the greatest erection of the age... the greatest erection on the planet!” A quote which is actually in reference to a bridge and if you can name the movie that came from (without cheating), first round is on me. (click here for the answer)
Heading down Icehouse Road for the trailhead.
And finally after cresting the rise and following the smooth winding road as I descended down towards Loon Lake, I reached water, the signal that I had reached the Rubicon trail.
The dam before reaching the spillway
And the Loon Lake entrance to the Rubicon trail, which upon sight did make me a little nervous. Suddenly self doubts started to rush into my stream of conciousness; I mean, I really have essentially no off road experience on a bike, wtf am I doing here, can I even run this trail and make it out in one piece?
I quickly ushered these doubts to the sidelines as I fired up my trusty steed and began my descent into the inferno.
After riding down the gravel trail that leads to the top of the rock slab from the picture above, I got stuck behind a Jeep for a bit before passing him on the ascent up the rock face where I was greeted with this view before heading down and to the gatekeeper below.
Once I hit the actual trail and started riding the dirt and rocks I quickly realized two things, 1- that as much as I wanted to see how far I could push the bike with the stock 15/45 gearing, I really wanted to put that 13 tooth countershaft sprocket in that I was carrying in my tankbag and 2- manhandling the bike through those rock gardens at 6000ft was one hell of an upper body workout and I was already starting to feel it in my forearms, which made me nervous as I really hadn’t gone anywhere yet. Alas, like the first 15 minutes back in a gym after a long hiatus, the fatigue wore off, at least to some degree and I pressed on, riding up and over the rocks and pushing the bike through sections of trail I was only able to dream about until this moment.
Eventually working my way past the gatekeeper I reached the climb to the slabs, a multiple stage step up section with large rocks and loose dirt. Unfortunately some of the more challenging and very interesting sections of the trail I did not get photos of, largely because I was just too busy enjoying the ride and trying to make it through in one piece. Honestly when I reached the bottom of the climb I looked at it and quickly picked the line I thought was right, but before attempting it thought about it for a minute or two as failure to make it to the top would not end well and I was somewhat concerned. I quickly dismissed my fears and decided I had the right line, leaned far forward on the bike and hit the throttle. With all the finesse of a car accident I led my bouncing, sliding bike up the climb, her front wheel rising the whole way up threatening to buck me from my steed.
And when I crested the top in one piece, wildly throwing my legs out in an attempt to make contact with solid earth, I was congratulated by the trail with this view of the slabs
Riding down to the base of the slabs was fairly simple, though some care was needed when approaching some of the cracks as they are literally large enough to swallow a bike whole should you let your mind wander and partway down the main path is a rather large junction, that on the bike with a little balance and a touch of throttle proved to be handled with ease, while those with four wheels clearly had some trepidation upon approach. From the bottom of the slabs looking up the selection of lines was somewhat abundant, however as I climbed each new step and crack presented a new challenge that needed to be handled.
Alas as I neared the top of the slabs and reached the launchpad I decided that I would not attempt the climb due to the lack of traction on that rock, my weighted bike and the fact that a crash there would end… shall we say, not well.
Like Dr. Jones however I’ve found that if I just sit back a solution will usually present itself and indeed it did as I was eyeballing the landscape I spotted my easier to crest step up that really only a bike should attempt and I was able to circumvent this little section of the trail before being presented with one field of rocks after another. :)
The trail proved to be everything I thought it would be and more, the rocks were a challenge though it was a welcome one and the bike in spite of her overloaded top and rear heavy payload handled the trail amazingly well. A pronounced lack of rider skill however had us on our sides more than once. If you look back to one of the first pictures in this thread you’ll notice that I’m wearing a canteen on my left side. In theory it was a good idea, I mean, a Camelback is great but you really have no idea how much water is left, I look at a canteen as the “reserve” so to speak, much like I treat my cage water bottle on mountain bike rides. At any rate, that thing must have broken my fall at one point because when I went to take a swig from it after exhausting the Camelback, I realized I had crushed it at some point on the trail.
Crashes were semi-frequent and the bike held up amazingly well, a credit to both the bike and the one skill I am proud of being excellent at, crashing. Now I mentioned previously that the gas cans I had saved my bacon more than once and here’s how. The NATO style cans are quite stout, I can say this with authority because I can tell you I put them to the test. They were beaten on, banged on, bounced around and had to support the full weight of the bike on the rocks, not to mention the full weight of the bike impacting the rocks. The held up well and while looking a bit more battered, they did not once leak. In addition to holding up well, both the cans and the gas rack served a dual purpose. They not only held the bike off the ground and consequently the rocks, thereby saving the engine from many, many impacts that would surely have split a case sooner or later, they also helped keep the bike from crushing my legs into the rocks on more than one occasion and of course, their true purpose, they got me back to civilization when I later ran out of gas entirely; between burning fuel on the street, the trail and whatever dumped out when crashing. In spite of their weight, I was glad to have them.
Pressing on I passed through several water crossings and fields of boulders eventually working my way through Ellis Creek and up to Walker Hill. Having run this trail many times over the last 11 years I have to admit that from a four wheeling, let alone dual sport perspective, the trail appeared to have gotten significantly more challenging in some areas, one of which was Walker Hill. As we know pictures have a tendency to do the real thing no justice and flatten things out, but the rocks were large with not a lot of gap between them providing uneven footing and whatever lines could be spotted were quite difficult to maneuver. The penalty for not making some of the climbs on the route was steep and just about every line threatened to launch me backwards.
I crashed a few times heading up the trail, most of which were slow speed loss of balance related, but by this point in the ride the altitude and weariness had started to get to me and it was becoming quite difficult to lift my bike and I had resorted to the method of back to the bike and lifting it with a squat.
I had selected what seemed to be the only reasonable line up the hill, rolled back a bit, got a little rolling momentum and started my assault, weighting the front of the bike as much as I could when she started to climb high throwing me back on the bike and unfortunately hard on the throttle. The bike launched out from under me and straight up into the air, both tires leaving the ground throwing us both backward into the rock pile. As I was falling backwards with the bike I pushed the bike with all my might hard to the left of me as I tried to roll to the right and it seemed to hit the rocks at the same time as I did with a thundering train wreck sound of a crash. I got banged up somewhat by that crash and once I had regained my composure I feebly attempted to roll my bike back upright so I could see what damage had been done. Aside from slightly bent bars, or possibly very lightly twisted tubes in the triple, the bike appeared to be fine not mentioning the rashed plastics and newly cracked hand-guard, without which my levers would not have made it this far.
While this was the most challenging thing I would endure until reaching Cadillac Hill, both my level of fatigue and fear of injury since I was alone started to set in after that crash, as if I had not rolled out in time the bike would surely have crushed my chest with ease and a helicopter ride out would be my only option. Erring on the side of caution, I decided this would be a safe time to run the remainder of my trip in reverse out the way I came in, a decision which I do not regret in the least. The ride out was just as fun as the ride in, including getting lost a few times since I’d never run the trail in reverse everything looked foreign.
All of the step ups and climbs that were brutal coming in were cake going out. With little more than some body English and a bit of light throttle control; they were all bested with minimal effort, while the rock gardens still proved to be a good challenge.
The ride wasn’t just about the Rubicon however and the scenery and fun did not stop one I had made it back off the trail as my adventure continued on my ride into South Lake Tahoe.
Once I was back on the streets again I continued en route to South Lake Tahoe however after reaching the main road it wasn’t far before I was out of gas having tapped both the main and reserve. As luck would have it I had a spare gas can and used it to top off the tank with enough to get me comfortably into Lake Tahoe. Had I been without it, I’d have been waiting on AAA so needless to say, I was glad I roughed it with the extra weight.
Once I rolled into the Tahoe area and reached the main drag, I approached a Howard Johnsons motel on the left side of the street that I gladly rode towards. Pulling into the check in parking area, I could hear the pack of obnoxious, very drunk guys hanging out in the spa. “That sucks” I thought to myself, so much for that much needed soak in the spa. In the end it turned out it was a pack of middle aged guys riding Harleys that for one reason or another decided to get completely wasted and go soak in the spa. Though they were harassing people that walked by, I was outnumbered by a lot, but not outgunned. Not one to look for trouble, I quietly made my way to my room, unloaded my bike and prepped for a nice hot shower where I was greeted with this nice glove tan.
After the shower however I was feeling so much better and ready to get into dinner and throw back those 2 ice cold Fosters that I had been carting around.
In the morning I made myself a nice pot of coffee, got in another nice hot shower and busted out my cream cheesed bagels for b-fast… hard to beat it. But before I could sink my chomps into the morning’s grub I decided to allow myself one of my few and far between vices of a cigarette and while outside a guy from one of the rooms upstairs started to approach me. As he got closer I said “good morning” to which he replied “this place is harder to get out of than it was to get out of prison.” Lol nice… I guess I got my requisite creepy dude for the trip to top off my 1.5 star hotel.
Before heading out I had to swap that 13 tooth countershaft sprocket back out with the 15 tooth standard as my top speed was currently about 45mph. I’ve got to tell you, once I got that baby back in there it felt like I was on a freakin sport bike, at least for a while. :)
Headed out 89 was one of the more scenic routes while 88 had its own level of beauty. If you look in the second picture below, partway out you’ll notice a guy fishing out there. Looks like great country to backpack in and I think I’ll be investigating what is allowed out there soon. :)
Heading up and out of the valley I took the Serow up to a maximum elevation of just over 8500ft and since I never changed the jetting I was concerned I could make it. Although she performed find at around 7000 with the occasional hiccup, at 8500 I was a bit concerned as to whether or not I would even make it. Slowly but surely however, she pulled me up, over and through the range eventually dropping me off back in the Stockton area, with a short 40mi jaunt to home.
But before getting out of that area, I was first treated to these views.
And finally, my favorite of them all: (Which looks much better full size)
In the end I clocked 424mi. I had a great time and I can't wait to go back. :D :D
Labels: motorcycles, outdoor, photography, travel, xt, xt225
PermaLink / Posted by: Tony
