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The day started
as any other Saturday.... not! Second try: The day
started bright and early, with alarm clocks a buzzin'. Kinda like
the start
to every other weekday. After a light breakfast, and a quick pack
of some
gear, the Gonz showed up with the large double-doubles. On the road,
some
light chatter on the way, with a lot of the hype of BT trailridin'
the
bimmer.
7:30 and we are
sitting at the carpark. Nobody around, so a quick
jaunt into Bethany for another double-double and a little relief for
Gonzo.
Back to the carpark, and now there's a good part of the crew, and
Trail
Tours' owner, Steve, with the cube van trailering some bikes. The
excitement
is starting. The talk surrounds the bikes we will be riding, with
a lot of
excitement from the guys with the bigger-is-better mentality. My thoughts
were with the relatively new Yamaha YZ400F four stroke. Thoughts of
throttle pinned, dirt flying, engine screaming wheelies consume Dangerous
Dan and myself.
Sylvia arrives
and we are on our way, leaving a note for Sporty and BT on the Stylz-mobile.
Luckily, as we are leaving for the trails, the bimmer cruises in,
casually late. Now the blood is pumping, we are on our way to the
trails. Excitement is high enough to fly the Firefly through the trails
to get to parking. Even Cuball is left behind, Grand Vitara and all.
Time for the gear.
No time to be shy. The changing room is the flatbed that was trailering
the bikes. After some tedious money matters, sizing and stuff, we
finally get to negotiate our rides. Being a little experienced with
two stroke dirt bikes, I swing a deal for a two stroke KDX220. I love
the whine of a two-stroke. The Gonz pulls the wool over Steve's eyes
and gets a four stroke DR250. Dangerous Dan opts for the softer suspension
of a four-stroke KLX300. Being the psycho crew, the tour owner, Steve
hops on his preference, the KLX300.
It seemed like
a lifetime of test track time, but, the comfort level kept
growing and growing and growing. We eventually got the final pep talk
by
Steve, and a last minute refreshment and relief break. The predominant
memory of the talk was Gonzo laughing at Duke in his training bra
sized
chest protector. Finally, we are on our way.
We start with
Steve, followed by Dangerous Dan, Gonzo, and myself. After a
bit of riding, Gonzo pushes me forward, so I can chase down Dan. The
hardest part of the ride is getting used to leaving the front brake
alone
in the sand. After some light riding, it is time to hit the little-more
advanced hill climb. A couple of quick pointers from Steve and he
disappears up the hill. Dan goes, and when he is out of site, the
clutch
is let go. First gear, second, now third and the tail is starting
to wag.
With rocks and sand flying I came around the bend, and see ....rider
down.
Dangerous Dan's negotiation of the bends on the hill were a little
off.
Bonus is that Dan is off the beaten path, not in the middle of the
hill.
It sure would have been interesting from his point of view if he was
on the
hill: a nut on a two stroke spewing sand and rocks around a blind
corner,
and a Gonzoized four stroke right behind.
At lookout point,
we watched a fox, and looked out to see Lake Ontario, the cement factory,
and the glow of Darlington. The talk soon changed after the second
group came in and the stories of the tree jumping out on Sporty was
the voice of choice. Back on our way. Lotsa narrow trails, soft sand
and finally a marker cone is in view. More fishtailing and we are
back at base camp.
Food! First group,
first dibs. Need we say more..? Guess what, there
will be more photos of Zen Riders eating. Talk was around little mistakes,
who dumped, who didn't, and Cuball flyin' high...without a bike.
First in, first
out, and the psycho crew was out tearing up the landscape
yet again. This time we have a sweeper with us, and Dan wants to chase
my
tail. Lots of tight trails, and we are into the real life of trail
riding. Trees blur by just inches from the bark busters as we chase
the leader.
Steve stops, looks
serious, and explains a descent we are about to embark.
60 degree descent, 100+ feet down, and we can barely see the bottom.
Steve
goes, and when he hits bottom, I let my clutch out. Engine braking,
no front brake, but, lots of rear. I must have skidded the entire
descent. At the bottom, thumbs up from Steve and we watch Dan skid
his way down. A yell from Dan and he is getting the thumbs up. Gonzo
takes off, skidding like the rest of us and another thumbs up.
Back on our way,
and we are flyin' in the trails. Next descent, and humility sets in.
Up over a hill and into another descent. The bottom a hard left with
tons of sand and trees. Overconfidence, or panic, I hit the bottom,
the front tire off the berm, view of a tree, and the overzealous front
brake. From Gonzo's view, he hit the top of the trail, looked down
and saw some nut scrambling to
pick up a two-stroke and continuing off down the trail. I'm sure I
heard
laughter from the Gonzmeister. Bonus of the incident was, the bike
didn't
even have time to stall, and I was off.
A little farther
down the trail, and we lost the sweeper, one of many times. Dan and
I trade bikes for him to try the chainsaw bike. I get on the thumper
and it already feels funny. I miss the whining already. Hitting the
trails, and the thumper is nice, but, still not the little two-stroke
I was already getting fond of. After a little toot to the spring,
we stop for a break, and a well needed drink.
All talk stems
around incidents on the trails. Back to the trails for the
homebase run, long route of course. Dan graciously let me ride my
whiner
again, and we are back to the trails. One last set of tight trails,
over 4
clicks long, and we are standing, twisting, bouncing, and fishtailing
our
way through some real exciting terrain. Eventually, we are on the
way back
through the less aggressive stuff, without the sweeper again. Legitimate
problem this time, no spark. Cut knuckle and all, Steve saves the
day and
the psycho crew are off. Finally, we pull into base camp and get ready
to
do the skivy jig on the flatbed.
A stop at Port
Perry for a celebration pint and war stories, then off to
home.
A day with good
friends, a bruised foot (slipped off the peg and kissed a
tree), and bruised ego seemed to be what the doctor ordered. Many
would
call it a midlife crisis, but, as riders, it is just another day in
the
bush havin' a blast....
Article: Darin, special guest to the Zen Riders
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