Misgivings.

AS the Chevy trundled slowly into the dust, creaking on it's suspension, I had some misgivings. 

I'd turned my XT, 180 degrees back to the direction I had already done.

I was pretty sure that this road made a connection with Cow Creek somehow or other, after all... how reliable was this information from 4 kids in a rusty green 4X4, whose combined ages barely surpassed mine?

IN any case, the point was moot.  My shoulder was on fire, I had about 50% of the normal strength, sometimes less and the road I had been riding was energy sapping, gruellingly slow in my condition and just plain fun less.  Yes, the scenery was smashing, but a boulder would have been too, had I tipped over in this sandpit riding the dry river.


IT took a good deal of effort just to wrestle the bike in a U turn.

I rode back to the climb that took me out of this depression, onto hard pack trail once again.  There had been another intersection a little ways back that I had pondered.  It was not signed, and I could see the route crossing the same riverbed I was now in, but climbing into the distance north.

THERE was no hesitation, turning  the bike to this new direction.

After all, my purpose in doing these rides is to discover what lay around the next hill or bend.  Even though much of the desert seems the same, it is not.  You may come across  a small herd of wary cows,  spook a coyote feasting on one of Bugs Bunnys' cousins... "Nyea... what's up Docccccc..." Crunch! maybe even a tarantula or diamond back. 

BY my very nature, I am intensely curious!

Since boyhood I was always the guy craning his neck to see what others weren't interested in.  Nothing has changed after all the years have past. 

Perhaps my curiosity has even gained ground.  I'm always looking for some answer or other it seems.

I climbed across the riverbed, the road was hard pack, but slow.  Braking bumps in the corners indicated that this route was well travelled and the constant twists and turns ensured a slow accent.

It was a shame I'd forgotten my altimeter back home in Calgary.  I was rising into the Bradshaw range steadily.

Meandering along in lower gears, mostly 2nd and 3rd, the DOHC 4V single chugged along most happily.  My tachometer seemingly stuck in the lower third of the rev range. There was no need for using the 8500 RPM redline.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a shadow across the gravel, providing me with company...

SEEING it always makes me smile.  It means it's sunny, daytime, and I'm not alone!  My Inner Child is always along for the ride.

Doesn't that make sense to you?

We motorcyclists always feel better riding in the sun.  Rain, gloomy weather, cloud cover, is always less appealing.