Tales from the Trail (ATV) Taylor Park: Day 2

Our first morning on location started off without a hitch.  And what better way to start it than with a good, hearty meal – Breakfast Burritos.  Jon’s camp cooking reputation precedes him and I was Jon’s apprentice for today.  When you have 8 hungry mouths to cook for, you need at least two sets of hands.  So we cranked them out, which was almost too easy with the setup next to his pop-up.

Jon was the food-mastermind.  On this trip, everyone pitched in for food supply and left it to Jon’s discretion to provision all the meals.  Jon packed and prepared everything into 5 huge coolers and even had a meal schedule.  So after breakfast, we turned the kitchen into a self-served Subway, where each person put together their deli-subs on tasty baguette.

It was complete with chips, candy bar, trail mix, fruits, and water.  Jon, you’re the man! Everything you needed to hit the trail hard.  And that was the plan for the day – hard trail riding.  So first on the agenda – Italian Creek and Reno Ridge Trail. We left base camp and headed back out to FS 742, Taylor River Road, and headed north.  After about 4 miles, we hung a left on FS 748.  The ride was uneventful until we took a detour for Lily Pond turning right on FS 760.  It’s an out-and-back to Lily Pond along this dirt road that eventually turned into steep, single track accents.  Just before Lily Pond are the relics and ruins of Forest Hill Mine.  And what’s just as amazing as these ruins is the view from their location.

We took a short break near the old timbers, but soon got back on the saddle.  The last short stretch presented our first serious mud puddle.

It was a short descent though the dense, woodsy single track to the valley where the pond is.  And soon we burst out into the clearing where we were greeted by a picture perfect view of the small mountain lake and the mountains behind it, which was the locale of the group picture [in Day 1].

We got back on FS 748 and headed for Reno Ridge Road.  Rain showers that threatened all morning finally came.  Regardless of how light it was, it got us into our rain gear on.

Our first real excitement of the day came when we accidentally took 880 at the fork instead of continuing on 748.  On 880, we climbed the hill gaining altitude quickly.  Soon we encountered challenging snow on the trail where my rig got stuck.  But with three ATVs with winches, we had plenty of insurance to get us out of anything.

CJ pulled me out and I gave it another go making sure I maintain gas all the way through the snow.  Right after that, everyone else just gunned it to make it through in one try.

When 880 turned in a dead end, we had realized our error in navigation, so we headed back down the hill back to the fork near Spring Creek Reservoir.  By this time, it was lunch time, so we used the lake setting for our saddle break.

From there we continued our way to Reno Ridge and by this time we had left 748 and were now on 744 (the junction was just past Spring Creek Reservoir).  It’s mostly fire roads on the way up and as soon as we start into the single track, thick, deep snow accompanied it.  We made a good effort at it, but soon the snow became too overwhelming.

Jon had been leading the way.  And although he got through this obstacle on his monster Yamaha Grizzly 700, all four rigs behind him were stopped by the tundra on the trail.  While we tried to  get ourselves out, Jon continued to scout the trail ahead for possibilities of making it through.  But unfortunately the snow just got thicker the further up you go.  What was suppose to be an awesome loop around Italian Creek trail turned into a huge out-and-back via mostly fire roads.

The attempt for Italian Creek took almost all of the day and though it provided some challenges, it left us desiring more from the day.  So on the way back into camp, we took a nice, easy, and scenic trail along Texas Creek.  Where our base camp was on the north side of the creek, this trail run on the south side.  In fact, at one point, CJ approached the creek and took a stab at crossing it.

But not even on his big 800 and with years of riding experience could he find the line to cross the fast moving water.  We were all hopeful to see our first water crossing, but everyone was doubtful since the water just seemed too deep with all the fresh, Spring snow melt.

We continued on the trail and at one point could see our base camp from the south side of the creek.

As we kept riding, all I could think about was crossing the creek.  The only other way to get to base camp was to go all the way out and around to the main road.  Dusk was upon us and my arms, legs, and butt was becoming weary from the day’s riding.  What was just as appealing as crossing the water was the fact it would be just a short hop to our base camp from there.  So on the way back out, we came to the same spot where CJ made the crossing attempt.  Joe, Dana, Alan and I both approached the creek again.  We all looked at and almost unanimously said, “The water is still way too high.”  We must have stood there for 15 minutes just trying to find the slightest possibility of success.  Then Dana had a marvelous realization, “The best place to cross is not where the water is calm … The roughest area … that’s the shallowest!  That’s where rocks are close enough to the surface is causing the water to ripple over!”

“Eureka!” I thought to myself.  But still, everyone thought it be too risky.  For Dana, Alan, and I, the rental shop did say there’s a $1000 recovery fee should we get the rigs stuck.  But the idea really had my engine going and I just couldn’t drop it even after me crew started to head away from the creek.  I just sat there watching the creek flow.  I looked at how swiftly it moved, the roaring sound it made, and most of all, how it behaved over the rough area.  By then, it was very clear I was alone.  I can see from the corner of my eyes the rest of them.  I can see the rear of their rigs and the red tail lights as they sat ready to get going to make the long ride around the creek.  I can almost hear them as they looked back at me, “What’s Leo thinking?  He’s just asking for trouble…”

In a few more minutes, I see Jon and CJ on the other side of the creek.  They were far ahead of us and apparently already made the long trip around.  They parked on the other side of creek and both undoubtedly thinking the same, “What’s Leo thinking??”  I sat stopped in front of the creek with the front two wheels just barely in the water.

Bot CJ and Jon had winches on their rigs, so I figured I would still have an out should I not make it.  But what I was really looking for was for a little nudge … just for someone to say, “Yeah, go for it!!!”  Admittedly, I hadn’t thought it through that even with winches available, someone would still have to walk it out to me in this cold, fridge, rocky fast-moving water.  I was thinking of any of that at all.  I just needed someone, anyone, to give just a scintilla of support.  I can tell without looking that Dana, Joe and Alan were shaking their heads saying things like, “He’s crazy if he thinks he going to cross …”

At that point I start yelling, signing and waving to Jon and CJ… anyway I can to communicate to them over the load roar of the creek.  I could barely hear what they were saying back and all I kept trying to say was, “I think I can do it!  Will you get me out if I get stuck?!?!”  After a few back and forth, I see Jon start pulling out the cable from CJ’s winch.  Then with winch hook in hand, he gestures and waves me in.  I thought to myself, “It’s now or never!”  So I gunned it.  I kept my baring on the roughes part of the creek which seemed to go from one side all the way to the other.  The moment I got more than a few yards into the creek was when the surreal feeling hit – there was no turning back – and the lessons from getting stuck earlier was clear in my head - put in 4×4, keep the diff locked, and whatever you do … maintain momentum.

I knew then and there that whatever happened, I was either going to come out a “hero” or a big “zero”.  I kept my thumb on the throttle and every bump I felt came with an ounce of relieve that my rubber was on the ground and not afloat.  And then before I knew it, the shore was again before me.

As I pull my rig onto the sand, CJ and Jon was just simply stunned and overcomed with joy and laughter.  “You did it!  You did it!  You son of gun… I can’t believe you actually went for it … we were just pulling you leg when we waved you in!“  Jon said as CJ was handing him a 20-dollar bill implying he lost the bet.  It made it all that much funnier and enjoyable to realize neither of these two seasoned riders thought it was possible themselves yet here’s this rookie who just did it.  From there, Dana, Alan and Joe quickly did a turnabout when they saw that I had made it across.  And when they made it to shore, too, the second wave of high-fives came my way again.  I enjoyed my hero moment thoroughly.  What a way to close out the day with an absolutely memorable moment that will sure to get plenty of stories told, re-told … and if CJ’s telling, perhaps even exagerated!

Here’s Dana, Joe and Alan on that very same maiden crossing.

I think we all felt pretty satisfied that we retired the day on a high note – our first major water crossing.  I was grinning all the way back to base camp.  At that point, we had at least one more good thing to look forward to - more of Jon’s renown camp cooking.  For tonight’s menu – Steak/Chicken Kabobs and Artichokes!

The night went on with Jon’s famous margaritas.  It was splendid.

[ Gallery, Tales from the Trail (ATV) Taylor Park ]