Los Angeles to Barstow to Los Vegas 2004

26th November

So there we were, in the assembly area for the 21st Los Angeles to Barstow to Los Vegas dual sport ride. Organised by District 37 of the American Motorcycle Association (AMA). This year it was starting from the Cycle Gear in Newhall (about 20 miles north of Los Angeles). The car park of the shopping centre was busy with bikes, vans, trailers and people. Eric and Joanne's place was only about ten miles away, so Dale and I stayed there the night before. We got up early that morning and after getting my dr350 to start (pushing it down the alley worked) we headed over to Newhall.

Dale's xr400 was still loaded on Eric's pickup, from when we'd picked him up yesterday. Joanne and I had followed the pickup. I signed in and pushed my bike to tech. inspection. The inspector looked my bike over, eyeing my stock exhaust he gave me a "Thanks for being quiet", and stamped my hand. Meanwhile Eric and Dale had unloaded Dale's bike. With us all signed in and inspected it was time to leave. As soon as we'd got Dale's bike to start. Sometime later Dale had worn his leg out, and we'd all had a go a kick starting it. In the end it started with Eric pushing it around the car park and we headed out on the road.

We took public roads and ended up on the Sierra highway which took us into Rowher flats. At the first easy/hard split Dale branched right to head up the hard way, while I followed Joanne and missed the right turn for the easy route. Fortunately another rider was coming the other way having made the same mistake. They set us in the right direction, and before we started heading uphill Dale rejoined us. Heading up a rocky fire road, I couldn't decide whether to use the inside rut or the outside berm and crashed as the front end washed out on a right hander. My worst crash of the ride left my bike with a broken rear indicator (bulb still worked though) and a tender left wrist. My wrist didn't hurt too bad when riding but it wasn't too keen on taking any weight.

We headed on up and at the Deer Peak staging area went straight on, to end up on the hard way. Realising our mistake we turned round and took the easy way. Dale looked kind of disappointed but I really didn't want to bash my wrist again. The easy way down was steep and gradually narrowed down to a single track trail. I don't think my engine was happy with how slow I was going down, as the I suspect the road gearing meant it stalled a couple of times. The map suggests this was 6n21.

Crossing a public road gave us brief respite. But the single track theme continued (South Portal Canyon?). While I've riding single tracks that were twister, narrower and scarier, this was the first time I'd done any on a motorbike. Fortunately the trail wasn't so tight that you couldn't pick a line. I was riding too fast to have time to worry about it.

I was following Joanna when she ran wide on a left turn at the top of short rise. I stopped and parked my bike just off the trail. Her front wheel wasn't far off the trail, but her rear had dropped a couple of feet down into the valley. I felt sorry that all she had for help was my ineptitude, if she'd been on her own someone competent would have stopped. I stabilised my feet off the trail on top of a bush and managed to lift/push the back up on to the trail. Joanne hauled the front back on to the trail and we pushed the bike up to where she could mount and start it up. I ran back to mine and kicked it into life.

The single track seemed to go on for ages, with one drop appearing from nowhere and bottomed my forks out (and what felt like the tyre as well). I didn't have time to check the tyre, and a pinch flat would make itself known soon enough. Eventually we got back on to a fire road and headed down to Lake Hughes. We met up with Dale at the petrol station opposite Wolf's. We had a break and filled the bikes up.

I was considering pulling out, as there was no way I could manage to ride over the same terrain all the way to lunch at California City. But while I was still alive it was probably worth pushing on.

The route to California City was mainly power line roads. So before we knew it we made it to lunch. Eric did a great job of telling us the easy alternative routes to get out of Rowher Flats that we could've taken. If only we'd known. Consideing how easy he reckoned the ride was last year, I might've questioned his parentage a couple of times on those single tracks. :)

A quick lunch and Eric re-filled the bikes. A fellow rider was complaining about his knee protectors cutting his circulation off. Dropping his trousers in the car park in his haste to get them off, he showed a rather fetching pair of thermals. Eric offered to carry them in the truck as he had nowhere to put them. Funnily enough Eric had exactly the same pair, that I'd borrowed having forgotten mine. They weren't too bad on me, put did press on my shin when I was standing up.

We headed out into the more familiar terrain of California City. While the riding wasn't too bad the whole area is criss crossed with trails, so the roll chart directions weren't too brilliant. A lot the trails had orange streamers marking them. Our route had flourescent pink markers, held on with clothes peg. I thought Dale was doing a fine job, until some other riders joined us. At which point the chap in Orange on a KTM did a fine job of sending him in the wrong direction.

It was about this time we met up with Craig, resplendent in Yellow mx gear on a yellow drz400. His steel toe capped work boots were slighly unconventional. He'd cracked one of his engine's side covers. Dale got to work chewing some gum while Craig cleaned up the wound. Another rider came up with some duct tape and a repair was effected. He was going to join us until the next check point (at the 395). At one point he was having some trouble on a hill, mr Orange decided he could ride around so headed up the hill. At the top of the trail his bike bucked a few times with the back getting at least 45 degrees around to each side. How he stayed on and avoided throwing his bike into the scenery (or Craig) I'll never know.

Some other riders decided an alternative route was in order, and headed off around the hill. It looked like a good idea so I went the same way. Only to loose the front in the rocks. The bike went down on right, so nothing new got broken. I caught up with everyone else round the other side of the hill. At one point Craig had laid his bike down off the trail on a down hill stretch. It looked like a daft place to stop to me. He managed to distract Joanne enough to make her crash on the trail. Doh!

His oil leak had only slowed so we headed off the route for a group of RV's to blag a better repair. Leaving Craig with them we headed back to the 395.

Amazingly enough we found the check point. It was about three thirty. Dale wanted to get a new rear tyre, so he headed down the 395 and 58 straight to Barstow to get it before the shops closed. Eric and Joanne got in the truck and headed back to pick up Craig. I started off following Dale (although he didn't realise it) only to have my bike cough and splutter. It was just like it was running out of petrol. I switched on to reserve, turned around and chased after Eric. When I caught the truck up, my tank was still rather full. So maybe it was the aftermarket fuel filter restricting the flow.

I followed the pickup while we looked for where we'd left Craig. It was six and a bit miles from the check point. Thirty miles later, it was dark and we hadn't found him. Not wishing to spend the night in the van we gave up and eventually found our way to the Twenty mule team road. We got back into Barstow about seven. Signing in we picked up tomorrow's roll chart and map. We locked the bikes to the truck. A kick to my front tyre suggested it didn't have a pinch flat.

A shower and shave later we met up for dinner. All the rooms in Barstow were taken, so Dale had to share my king sized bed. Still there was plenty of space in there.

27th November

For some reason I was the last to get to the bikes that morning. My Suzuki was being a little awkward to start, so I reached down to put the choke on, only to find it already was. Which might explain the stalling and lack of top end yesterday. But I thought I'd turned it off when we left the start. It turns out that Dale and Eric had tried to start it up. Lucky I left the key in it then. :)

A brief spell on the local roads, and we're hitting the dirt again. This time it's straight on to sand. I guess on the bright side, the sand is damp, so it's slightly more stable and there's no dust thrown up. Still I get fed up with the front bars twitching and crash on a right hander. As much as the constant twitching of the front winds me up. Picking the bike up, and the loss of confidence that follows crashing is worse. And I still have just as much sand to ride over as ever. At the end of this section of sand is a large puddle/small lake, I follow someone else and skirt around it.

Then we're onto the power line roads again which is great, although the low sun makes it difficult to see any surface features. I'm following Joanna at a fair old pace, and slow down for a left right complex. We make the left ok, but run wide on the right. Luckily at this point there's not much difference between on the trail and off it. This whole section follows the Jermo road, and occasionally we end back on it. I'm tempted to show what road gearing means on tarmac but settle down to the 60 mph everyone else is doing, and get a stone just under my collar bone for my troubles. I'm not following exactly behind Dale or Joanne, so I reckon it came from the group in front of them. It seems odd as we're off the loose surfaces. Maybe it's time I bought a roost guard.

Leaving the road we're back onto the sand, which gradually firms up as we get closer to Afton Canyon Campground. Just after the campground we come to the first water crossing. A few folks are queued up before it, and there's some parked after. We wait our turn and Dale heads through. The water is opaque and there's no route that's obviously better. Fortunately I've ridden through a water a couple of times off road (and a couple of times on road in the UK). I head through, trying not to hit it too hard, ready to slip the clutch and use the throttle to keep the engine alive. A couple of rocks try to put me off, but I arrive at the other side without having to put a foot down. My trousers go over the top of my boots so my feet are dry. My engine is still running and makes a lovely cloud of steam. Fantastic.

Unfortunately I turn around to watch Joanne get knocked sideways by a rock and stop with the bike in that classic 'I can hold it, but can't get it vertical' stance. Eric has joined us at the crossing but his shoes aren't really appropriate. So I wade in, and I pull the bike round and upright using the handlebars. We then push it out. While Eric and Dale try to start it I drain the water out of my boots and squeeze some more out of my socks. Still it wouldn't be water crossing without wet feet.

We spend an hour and half trying to start the drz. I use some of the time to take my saddle off and check the fuel tanks bolts, as it's been rattling a bit. The bolts are fine, but the rod that joins the two halves at the front has gone missing. I put the remaining screw in a safe place.

The drz keeps teasing us, drying out the air box, changing the plug and pushing starting it doesn't help. We borrow a nylon strap and try towing it. As my bike has a rack I'm the lucky rider who gets to ride to the towing vehicle. It's like someone very heavy is sitting on rear seat. I do my best to get some speed up, while not crashing. Which is easier to type than it was to do.

In the end we give it up, Dale and I head on, while Eric and Joanne will meet us a Baker. The bad news is the bike is at the wrong side of the crossing. The nearest bridge is the railway, which is illegal and risks getting squished. Luckily a passing SUV with jacked up suspension (a Bronco with ten inch lift says Dale) crosses and offers to take it back accross on their tail gate which works. The sweep crew has caught us up, and tells us to take the I-15 to Baker, when we get to it.

We head off riding as fast as possible. Dale quickly leaves me behind in the sand. I don't have enough control to wind the roll chart so had no idea about the directions. Following the churned up sand seems to work, and I even see the occasonal flourescent pink trail marker. The bad news is it's all river silt so I crash a couple of times (front washes out on right handers). The second time the front wheel has dug itself in nicely. I'm too lazy to pull it out, and manage to get the rear wheel to push it out. Great, but it takes the rear wheel about ten feet to clear the resulting furrow. I head on only to find Dale waiting around the corner, sorry for holding you up dude. He's quickly out of sight.

The trellis bridge that take the railway accross the river beckons in the distance. I hope it heralds a change in the terrain. The ground firms up as I get nearer the bridge. Heading over a brow the trail heads left, I think I'm going too fast so head straight on to a 'turnout' on the bank. Back on the trail a right takes us under the bridge, I ride around the outside of a large puddle. A left takes me into the next water crossing. It's not very deep to start off, but I'm not fooled, and cover the clutch and get ready to keep the engine alive. Sure enough it's soon up around the tank. Which makes a fantastic booming with the engine pounding away underneath it. The spectators are disappointed as I make it accross unscathed. I don't even find any rocks. We follow the railway, so the cinders make a nice change from the sand.

We stop at the I-15 junction. The roll chart says "Rocks ahead!!! If you don't like ROCKS and WASHOUTS take the I-15 to BAKER!!!". So I'm not too upset to get on the I-15. We catch up to an HGV (tractor trailer?) and while we're fast enough to overtake it, the traffic is too heavy to make it worthwhile. At which point a pickup with a drz on the back goes past. Funnily enough Eric and Joanne are waving from the cab.

We get to Baker and can't find the check point, so we fill up the bikes with fuel and our camelbaks with water. Eventually asking our fellow rider comes up trumps and we meet Eric and Joanne at the check point. The drz is now running and we're back to a threesome. Leaving the "World's Largest Thermometer" behind we head north on the 127, before turning right onto the power line road. At mile eight (from Baker) we're into the 'Tortoise zone' a thirty mile an hour speed limit to protect the habitat of the desert tortoise.

We leave the power line road behind and head into the rougher tracks towards the mine. With all the loose surface, sand washes and whoops I'm lucky to be doing twenty. Eventually we get back on the power line road, and exit the tortoise zone. There's a series of dips and a couple of chicanes to keep it interesting. But we cover some serious ground. Before long it's back into the tortoise zone again. Eric meets us where the power line road crosses the Excelsior Mine Road. He's been chatting to the couple of folks from the Bureau of Land Management. We stop for a break.

Dale lends Eric his helmet and his bike. Eric leads us up the mine road until we turn right onto another power line road. Grinning like a loon he pins the throttle open when we get out of the tortoise zone. With Dale following us in the truck we make it into Sandy Valley for lunch, at around one. The local school has laid lunch on, with the local fire department manning the bbq. A fuel truck fills our bikes up, and life is sweet.

Dale is back in the saddle as we leave Sandy Valley. In the distance we can see a dust trail kicked up by a couple of riders ahead. They're really shifting on a power line road heading up into the mountains. The air is crystal clear, the weather is bright and sunny, I end up having a 'right now, there's nowhere else I'd rather be' moment. Before long we're kicking up dust trails on that trailinto mountains. We're doing about 60 mph, and my handlebars occasionally develop a wobble. It doesn't disturb the steering and doesn't get worse, but I'd still prefer it if it didn't.

We get onto the local roads to cross the mountains, there's snow on the road, and we ride past the occasional house.

This brings us onto the 160, then it's left onto Lovell Canyon (valley?) road. We stop where the roll chart recommends the view.

Then it's down the canyon some more, before a right onto Red Rock Canyon road/trail. Amazingly enough there's some riders coming the other way. A little further up we find out why, there's snow on the trail. The directions really recommend this bit, but we turn around and head back up Lovell Canyon and take the 160 into Vegas. From here it's all regular roads. But we make our way through the holiday traffic (it's the long weekend following Thanksgiving Day). To arrive at the last checkpoint.

Super Sarah checks in shortly after us, having taken all the long and hard routes.

My bike isn't looking too bad, all things considered. A new rear indicator and straighten the number plate and I'll be laughing. The rear bump stop is looking worse than it was, but should still work. I wondered if I'd bent the handlebars, but it looks more like the front wheel isn't square in the forks.

We load the bikes up. Dale shows off his killer freestyle moves.

When we arrive at our hotel, we end up in the 'Rock Star' parking (well oversize vehicles anyway). We even get a room with seperate beds, sweet.

If you've made it this far, you may be interested in Dale's write up that has a lot more pictures. Or even Dale's pictures on their own.