Peaking out... at last.

My home in Glendale sits about 1000' above the levels of a rising ocean.  1500' if you were to count the Salton Sea in Southern California!

Throughout the day, the altimeter rose steadily. 

Two thousand feet, as I was passing Lake Pleasant.  Three thousand leaving  abandoned ranches in my wake, thirty five hundred when that 6' diamondback crossed my path. 

Four thousand as I reached my point of no return.

At five thousand feet I'm standing on the pegs, leaning hard forward and contorting my body like Houdini, counteracting the angle of the washout, my front tire just bounced off my chosen path up that killer hill!

When I'd reached six thousand feet the going became easier, the road actually a road, almost wide enough for a Jeep and an XT side by side.

As I looked far back south, down the mountains I'd just conquered, the numbers rolled past six thousand seven hundred and finally sixty eight hundred feet above sea levels. 

What a climb it had been!  A dozen roads, a hundred mountains, a thousand curves... a gazillion magnificent vistas, and it was all downhill from here.

There were scattered houses showing in the distance, several ATV's and then a parade of side by sides rolled by, some with senior citizens at the wheel.

We were close now, in the high pines.  The saguaro cacti left far behind with the rattlesnakes, down below.  Here it was cool, just over 50 degrees F.  I stopped, had another sip of water, and put my sweater and MSR jacket back on. 

I thought for a moment that this jacket had covered a hell of a lot of ground over the years, and wasn't worn out yet!  It would still see highways and biways and roads and tracks.

Crown King village was just around a few more corners, the numbers and bar graph were heading in the other direction now. 

What a day it had been.

Crossing the narrow bridge into downtown Metro CK, my tense muscles were beginning to relax, the legs aching, but happily worked over, my butt sinking a bit deeper into the blue saddle.

WELCOME TO PARADISE!

Mother Nature

 
 
<><><><

<><><><>

I'd reached the "point of no return"  Honest, it was painted on a rock!

 


Ever wonder if Mother Nature has a sense of humor?







Last sign here said... "Cattle rustlers will be shot"



If God looks at us mere mortals and shakes his head...

Do my Mom and Dad look down on me and think,

"Where in the hell did this come from...? 

Did we boob somewhere...?"



Still a long way from civilization... but getter closer!



If your kids think you're nuts?



Thank goodness, an easier part.



I often wonder myself, 'what was I thinking?'

I had been stopping about every twenty minutes to replenish H2O, have a short rest break, keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

Not much room for error here.

I deliberately left my Canon at home, was using my very trusty Olympus waterproof digital. 

This particular camera had taken over 10,000 photos alone while biking Europe.



Hmmmm...



Normal stuff.

Another rest break in the shade before tackling another rocky climb.

It was compact, and if it rained (not too bloody likely today) or I wanted to take some pics in the pool, it was capable of doing it all.

I'm going to leave the dialogue short this time around, let the photos do the talking for me... you'll get a pretty good sense of the terrain I had taken on, and why I was glad to have a tractor of a motor.  Don't be fooled... it was a lot tougher than it looks.

Remember... you can't stop to photograph the "Oh S__t" parts...



Looking south back on the Crown King Road.




I was just there.



Surprisingly a lot more water than I expected.

The end is near...

CK Chapter Three

I was down to a T shirt, sweat dripping from my hair down my forehead, stinging my eyes like acid rain... my back was soaked, my hands were sticky inside my gloves.

Crown King stretched out before me, I could see glimpses of the trail for miles. 

I was glad to be doing this today... when it was reasonably cool.  Days before it was a hundred degrees.  Summer temperatures can hit 120 out here.

It was desolate, and I mean desolate.

Behind me, off in the hazy distance, you'd catch a familiar glimmer of Lake Pleasant now and again, and beyond that somewhere out of sight, the northern suburbs of Peoria.  It was barely 50 miles, but you would have sworn it was ten thousand!

It seemed I had left civilization behind, and not just in miles.

Sometimes I wonder to myself, 'Why do you do this Frank?'

 

Out here... you are in the desert and truly on your own.

It's like having something go horribly wrong with the transporter beam, and ending up on another planet...

"Cap'n... I canna get him back"

"Scotty... we need more power!"

 

Having ridden many years in the wilds of Baja California, this was no different.  I was used to just such isolation.

There hadn't been another person since I'd passed a yawning Ranger an hour ago riding by on a quad, headed south.

When you ride like this, anywhere on the planet, you cannot help but feel utterly alone.  It's like some bizarre science fiction movie with you as the star actor. 

 ... the only actor.

Rarely in our increasingly urban lives do we experience this singular existence for any length of time.  The sky above your helmet, the earth beneath your boots, a million square miles of wilderness, yet you are totally and completely on your own. 

There is no sound, save for the ticking of your engine. 

Not a cricket, no splashing of water, no thrashing of traffic, not even the buzz of a bumblebee.

The only evidence of man here on the Crown King road, were occasional spent shell casings, some crushed beer cans, a contrail or two in the sky and the road itself. 

I passed by several small herds of free range cows. 

These guys weren't near as emaciated as I'd seen in Baja during my rides in the lower peninsula, those were practically see through bringing new meaning to the term "lean beef!"

Nevertheless, you could not call any of these examples, well fed and certainly not 'fat.'

I'd been steadily climbing for an hour now, the altimeter bar graph showing a continual rise. 

4900' and moving inexorably upwards towards the heavens.

Not so oddly the temperature was dropping, although I had been working so hard and the rock face radiated so much heat, I was sweating profusely.  You spend much of your time on the bike standing on the footpegs. 

You're using body english to navigate uphill, down around obstacles... constantly taxing your muscles.  Tiring you every yard of the route.  I stop frequently to have a drink, take a rest, any shade I can find.

There was no doubt though that here in higher elevations, the air temps were cooling.

I would welcome the refreshing coolness in the next hour.

You see, Crown King was about to get a whole lot meaner...

CK Chapter Two

getting interesting...

I hate to admit it, but after my conversation with the road repair crew, my apprehensions grew.  For awhile, I thought back to my childhood in Edmonton. 

Remember when you're a kid, and you see your first scary film, or your parents (or sister) tell you there are creatures living under your bed, or you are scared to be in the dark... well that's what this was kinda' like.



that's Crown King far off in the hazy distance...



In the time I have been to Phoenix and meeting local riders, this Crown King Road (!?) had come up in many conversations.  What I'd heard was how incredibly rough the surface was, or that there were climbs nearly vertical with boulders the size of Baja VW Bugs. 

It was a ride for hard core KTM pilots or whack jobs on ATV's.  There has not been a single soul that claimed CK was a 'piece of cake', a proverbial 'walk in the park'.  Even the guy I'd bought the XT from had a garage full of hard core off road bikes.

road begins to climb and narrow

My road side chat, did nothing to allay those fears.  The local expert maintenance guy on the road crew, who lived in CK, warned me with not even a hint of a smile on his face, that it would be very tough indeed, and there were no services of any type.  Even he suggested I take an alternate highway route to visit the townsite itself.



surface still very good, hard packed gravel



I decided that I could always bail and continue around the Cow Creek road, back to the Castle Hot Springs route that I had done several times, after all... I was just out for a Sunday ride albeit on Monday...

MONDAY! 

When there would be no whack jobs on ATV's or hard core Katoom riders whizzing by to offer assistance if trouble occurred. 

That's alright though,  whenever I am tackling a hazardous off road section, I reserve the right to turn back at any time.  Usually the deciding factor is a wicked downhill, into a bottomless morass, filled with rock, sand, mud and alligators with huge snapping jaws, and bits of human flesh dangling from a smashed femur, protruding from a smiling jaw seemingly saying to me... "send more foolish dirt riders..."



rugged desert terrain, nobody about today



So, after the abandoned homestead, near yet another dried up stream, I peeled off to the right and began the Crown King road proper.  There was no road sign as such proclaiming 'Crown King' 39 miles that away or any such thing.  No brass bands, no red cross outpost, no Apache warriors on pintos overlooking the badlands below (at least not that I'd noticed) only a painted rock that I almost missed with a large CK on it's face.

drop dead gorgeous scenery 360 degrees

The altimeter had been steadily climbing after I'd rolled out of West Golden Lane, and we were now climbing in earnest.  3500 feet, then 3900 in short order.  Once I hit 4000' I knew it was going to be a hard ride.  The route had narrowed considerably, the switchbacks were coming more frequently and the drop offs were getting deeper and steeper.

abandoned homestead, looked pretty nice, just no water

I came around another bend to find a near 6' snake, lazing on the roadway a hundred feet in front of me.  Must have picked up the vibration, by the time I parked the bike on reasonably level ground and walked back the 20 or so feet to where I had passed by him, he was already in hill climb mode and heading into the brush. 

There was no rattle, but that in itself is not that unusual, and his coloring was indicative of rattlesnakes I had come across in British Columbia, Baja or around these parts previously, but I had no idea if he was friendly or not.  Before ducking into the underbrush for good, he coiled the first 18" of himself and eyeballed me a good 10 seconds.  His mid section was a good 2 1/2 " in diameter, and I wished I could have taken a better pic before he disappeared. 

getting narrower and steeper, mostly 2nd gear stuff

I am always respectful of such creatures, this is their environment not mine.  Whether it was harmful to humans or not, I see absolutely no point in harassing a wild creature.  Too often we humans, have such little regard for things and animals we simply don't understand.  I viewed this guy as I do all living creatures, with tolerance, respect and curiosity.  I did not have any right to harm it in the least though in any case.

switching back and fro

Parked, snake watching, I realized how warm it was becoming.  The daily temp was only meant to be 79F, a whole lot cooler than the two weeks preceding, but here in the sun, on a blazing hillside, the heat was reflecting off the rocks.  I felt like a piece of Navajo pottery drying in the oven. 

Time to shed some clothes.

So far this opening portion of the CK road was only mildly challenging.  Apart from a steady uphill and narrow trail, there were no killer washes or VW boulders to contend with.  I began thinking that the road crew were having some fun at my expense.

hard to see but about 6' and over 2 inches in diameter

The route was most definitely uphill and hugged the mountainside like a long lost relative that heard you just won the lottery!  I'd call it a 6 out of 10 for difficulty.  It did much better for scenery, clearly a 10!

In the distance, at certain vantage points along the route, I could see Lake Pleasant shimmering far far away. 




fast moving rattleless diamondback

 

The bar graph on my watch, representing the altitude over the last several miles was climbing like we'd wish to see our investments do.  Steadily upwards.  The distances around bends and between the uphills and occasional dips was becoming increasingly shorter.  This was getting serious.

heading skywards!

The Crown King was beginning to shed it's smile and show it's teeth...



The OUTER LIMITS!



pavement ends.



Chapter one

In every one's life there is a road, and on that road there are curves and forks, twists and turns.  Much as some would like, it's rarely straight.  (Boring)

When we come to that fork, you can choose the known, the well travelled... or you can choose the unknown, the road less travelled. 

I think back over my own life, how my Dad took the road less travelled many times.  I learned that from him, at a young age, and my daughters have learned it from me.


Here's a bit of history that even my family may find interesting.

Both parents were born into a severely depressed Hungary in 1923.  The Austro-Hungarian empire of the Hapsburgs was thoroughly kaputski after the disaster of the first World War. 

Then came the depression, and bad as it was in North America, imagine what it must have been like over there.  Had there not been a WWI, had there not been a depression, there may not have been a place for an Adolph Hitler. 

Think about it...



hell's canyon wilderness, no friggin kidding!



So my parents really had no childhood, my Dad was on his own by age 12.  His father dead.  Then, at 16 that very same Hitler plunges an uneasy Europe and subsequently, the World... into WWII.

Hungary couldn't have been a swell place during those years, Aunt Bozsi remember hundreds of B 24 Liberator bombers flying over the country, even today, construction crews find unexploded live bombs all over the cities.  In 2008, ten square blocks in downtown Budapest were evacuated for a 4000 lb bomb (made in the USA) while digging the new subway line, yet there was worse to come... much worse.

After the war was over, the occupation had begun.  History has it's own way of stating the facts, but the facts are, that Joseph Stalin's Europe was not a pleasant place.  I won't delve into the intricacies of the debate as to who was worse, that I leave to you.

Travel as you and I know it, simply didn't exist in the occupied countries like Hungary or Poland or East Germany... suspicion ruled the lands and the Iron curtain had descended.

My Father worked steam locomotives, and as such he was all over both Eastern Europe and sometimes the West.

In 1947, while on a Hungarian train in France, he  defected.  He left behind a wife and young daughter.  A year later for reasons I'm not aware, maybe homesickness, love, certainly not money, he re-entered HU via the rail system.



can you spell, s t e e p!  worse later.



In short order, the authorities came to the house and arrested him.  His following address became a prison for political dissidents.

The next 6 years were spent in hard labor at various coal mines working underground to feed the Soviet economy.  After the death of 'Uncle Joe', a general amnesty was granted to political detainees and Dad came home.

I was born shortly thereafter... on the same date as he in fact.

At a year and a half, the country of my birth was going through a revolution that quickly became quite violent.  Molotov cocktails thrown from apartment windows at T 34 tanks.  My Aunt Bozsi tells me of seeing Russian tank brigades by the score passing through the roads and forests surrounding Jaszkiser on their way West to Budapest.

My Father, well aware that as a political prisoner his name was on the Siberian express at the least and a bullet at the most.  I don't know which would have been more humane.  Like 250,000 other Hungarians, they packed up and in the dead of night over several nights, made their way towards Austria and Freedom.



notice mtns in the background... I'm going beyond them



The road less travelled so to speak.

Remember what I said, it's rarely straight...

After a couple of years in a refugee camp provided by the International Red Cross, in the south of England, Canada and many other Commonwealth countries opened their doors and we arrived in Edmonton on a TCA propeller driven aircraft.

TCA for those that don't know, was then known as Trans Canada Airlines, the forerunner of Air Canada.



bird's eye view

  Which brings me back to my story. 

I've spent much of my life travelling the less beaten path.  Although I have stayed at the odd resort (on a Yamaha trip in 1988, we stayed at the Royal Bahamian resort in Nassau, Bahama's.  Casino Royale was filmed partly at this resort)

Most of my travels have been at no star layovers.  Hold it a moment, that's not entirely true, I have slept under a trillion stars many times!

Brings to mind an old joke, goes like this: 

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson were taking some time off to rest after a gruelling case.  They packed their tent and sleeping bags and headed to the Scottish highlands.  After setting up camp, exhausted, the two companion adventurers dropped into a fitful slumber.

In the wee hours of the night the good Doctor Watson is awakened by Holmes...

"My dear Watson, look up and tell me what you observe?"

"Well Holmes (never one to pass up a chance to put his mind to work) I see Cassiopeia, the North Star, a smattering of cirrus clouds at 20,000 feet, and a beautiful night sky albeit a chilly one.  And you Holmes, what do you deduce from all this?"



kayaker enjoying the day



Holmes ponders for just a moment before answering his learned colleague...

"My deduction Watson...  somebody has stolen our bloody tent!"

But... I digress...

Yesterday, I was on a just such a road less travelled.  I've been very busy during my latest foray to Phoenix.  Seems that gearing the place up, shopping, getting bikes smog tested etc, takes up a lot of time. 

Needless to say, with the gearing problems and little time, I have had no off road adventure moments... until now.  The forecast the past few days has been cooler temperatures.  Riding desert country in 100 degree heat is not my idea of a great time, so with cooler temps and heading North, I was eager.

As it turned out, my planned route didn't happen, I was seduced with the prospect of exploring Crown King, apparently a must do destination for serious off road riders.  Once on the Lake Pleasant parkway, I was quickly out of town with a full tank of fuel aboard. 



understatement of the year



I followed LPP to the Carefree hiway, route 74... and set my sights west to the park entrance.  Lake Pleasant is a Dammed man made lake offering city dwellers an opportunity to hit the campground, water, trails in 20 short minutes.

With my steady 55mph gait the new gearing provided, I didn't hold up traffic greatly.  After a few miles of twisty paved road, you arrive at a T.  To the right is one of many park entrance gates, while left leads off to the Castle Hot springs, Cow Creek and eventually Crown King roads.

Only a few miles in off pavement, I stopped as a road crew were positioning their grader. 

"Where you off to?"  One orange clad workman asks.

"Crown King."  I reply.  The two guys look at each other and the 2nd dude says to me in a straight face,

"On that purty bike?"

The other guy tells me I'd be better off leaving the bike with them and taking that... pointing at a D-9 Caterpillar parked in the ditch.

My deduction had nothing to do with tents, only tense. 

What was I getting myself into this time... hell what could happen?! 

The bike was working well, I had some food and water, and it was a nice day...

                                                                                                                                    cont.

note: to enlarge pics, just click on.