LOST!

fresh as a daisy.

Despite my best intentions... I never made it to Prescott.  

Not that I didn't try and try hard... just sometimes the best laid plans go astray.

$2.95/gallon

You have to understand something right now.  If you asked anyone here, man/woman on the street.  The guy at the gas station, someone you know... how to get to Prescott, you'll be greeted by two typical replies...

1)  Where's Prescott?

2)  Take I-17 North etc.

When I tell someone I am looking for the back route, I either get a blank stare or a "why?" followed by a blank stare!

XT loaded with water, energy bars, an apple.  Maps (not much good) and a stop prior to leaving Peoria to fuel up, I was ready to rocks, so to speak. The night before I had gone over what maps I had, google earth and pen in hand, painstakingly drew a route I would take, including estimated mileages.

Well marked CK Trail.

Even before getting into the day, I had to re-arrange my luggage.  My experimental mounting atop my cooler/tail pack, done to allow me better access to the kick-starter, was unsatisfactory.

Some of the early part of the trip, to the Crown King Trail, I had ridden before.  I had memories vividly implanted in my brain of that ride two years ago.  One of the most difficult off road rides I'd done in my life.  (CB 278 'Conquering Crown King')  I didn't see a soul on the entire trip, till the outskirts of CK.

From here on out, I would be on foreign ground.  It's about 90 miles as the crow flies from home, but of course I would be traveling back country where you could be aimed at all four corners of the compass in a single mile, and doing it up or down and round and round.

 Navigating back there is akin to throwing the dice.  There are hundreds of trails branching off in every direction and road signs are rare, and when you do see one, it often makes no sense.  GPS typically maps only major traveled routes and I left my trusty Baja compass at home.  Note to self: buy compass/leave in Phx!


When I'm adventure touring, I am nothing like you see in BMW commercials, where the Hein Gericke clad, chisel jawed, forty something, six foot three inch tall middle linebacker, movie star dude, GS rider, is piloting his 700 pound "dual purpose" bike along some Alpine road.  I remember full well a group of KLR 650 riders (which at least has some pretensions of off-road ability) from Canada, that I had met in Loreto, filling up at a Pemex.  Turns out that the only time their tires had set knobby off pavement was at the service stations!! This after I'd ridden parts of the Baja Mille race course on my 225 Serow!

When I am adventure touring, I may only cover 100 miles in a day, but in that time its very rare that I meet anyone else, period.  Given the places I have ridden solo on my various street/trail bikes, I have lived on the edge much of my riding life.  No people, no water, no traffic... no help!



I passed Lake Pleasant as I have many times before, took the Cow Creek turnoff, left behind two UTV's in the process... and eventually came to the Crown King Trail, clearly (?) marked by a faded spray painted CK on the face of a boulder.

 

From here on in, I was on unknown terrain.

Weather was good, I had enough duds even for potential cool riding, and soon found myself stripping off gear, until I was down to a muscle (no laughing!) shirt under my Baja MUV.  It's on terrain like this the 350 is a good compromise.



Just fast enough on the 55 mph highways to get here and flexible enough to ride in lower gears on the trails.


After climbing steadily up to 4500' I found myself descending into a long valley, apparently to the south.  I wasn't worried given the changes of direction the road takes.  The track became rougher, requiring me to stand on the cleated pegs much of the time.  Eventually I was picking my way through dry creek beds and should have clued in when I saw a sign pointing downhill to Walker Gulch. 



At this point, I was riding mostly in first or second gear, avoiding boulders, riding through axle deep sand, and shifting my weight continually.

In terrain like this, there is no room for mistakes.

You have to be dialed in 100% of the time.  If you falter, you will fall, smack into or go over a cliff!

Shade is only available on the occasion that water may be near the surface and some cover has grown, or in the lee of a canyon wall.

I was pretty sure I was heading in the wrong direction much of the time but without road signs and with constant twists and turns, you can never be sure.  A compass helps but even then, you are changing directions so often, its really academic.  This, to me... is real adventure touring.



Weaving and wobbling my way through the gulch, not a cowboy on horseback in sight, having struggled through deep sand skirting boulders the whole time, I found myself in a huge open, dry river-bend, at the bottom of a wide ravine.  I had no shade, no idea where I was, no idea where the road had disappeared to?

Jamming some river rock under the side stand to keep the bike from falling over, I went for a walk up the river.  Around a bend, I was greeted by a green government road sign that told me I was at the junction of Buckhorn road and Castle Creek.



Okay... I could tell Buckhorn went up a steep boulder strewn road, but had little idea in which direction Castle creek was.  I found a gate, not unusual back here, that was unlocked.  I backtracked the quarter mile wearing my Icon's and dragging my arse through the sand. getting some into my footwear to boot! 

Looking at the sun, I knew roughly in which direction North was and that seemed to be the way I had got here and the gated road promised to take me.

Once through the gate, I set off up the wash.  I promised myself that I would travel 3 miles and if I didn't come out of the wash, I would return.

I should have known better when Charlie Brown and Snoopy, piloting his doghouse where telling me that this road? was for Jeeps only...