For such a critical day, I slept in a bit longer than I might have, for two reasons. Breakfast was not served until 8:00, and every time I drifted off in the night, I was soon awakened again - more on that later.
Even so, we were still up in plenty of time to load the bikes before eating. But first thing is always to ensure that all tires are still inflated - check!
As we were prepping the bikes, a fellow visitor came over and inquired about our planned route for the day. "We're heading out through High Rock Canyon," I replied, trying to sound confident - for my own sake. "We're going that way too," he revealed. "We're in side-by-sides and a Hummer. We'll let you get out first, and come up behind - in case you have any trouble."
That sounded like a great plan to me and Jonathan. First, we certainly didn't want to eat their dust for miles and miles. Second, even though we'd packed about everything we would likely need in a trail-side emergency scenario, one of our bikes was still largely untested in the rough stuff, and the other was ten years old, with rather high mileage. Now we had a back-up plan!
We chatted a bit longer about the trail itself. Evidently, there was a water crossing that was quite deep for another group of travelers, just a couple of weeks ago, after the last rain. It was hard to imagine there being any water at all in this desert, at the end of a long, dry summer. But one person's idea of deep is not necessarily the same as another's. We'd find out, soon enough.
The blue, dune buggy looking vehicle above is what's known as a side-by-side. Behind it, you can see the Hummer. Their group stayed in that separate white building, and had their own supper last night. They would all be joining us for breakfast, though.
Another prominent structure on the property was this old rock house. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask about it specifically, but I know the ranch began as a military fort back in 1865 - to manage relations between pioneers, traveling on the Applegate Cutoff wagon road, and the Paiute Indians. At its height, there were 176 men stationed here, with 100 horses!
Making my way back to the bikes, I noticed this small shed, with some rather large storage tanks behind it - and what appeared to be a power line running out of it.
That explains it. This is what kept waking me up all through the night - a diesel powered generator. The ranch was completely 'off the grid' and so produced their own electricity. If we spent one more night, I'd probably get used to it, and have little trouble sleeping with the noise. But it was a small price to pay, to visit such a remote and unique place.
They probably could have fed most of those 176 soldiers with the food our hosts set out for breakfast that day. It was an incredible spread. You may have noticed that I didn't take pictures of any of the food at the ranch - got to leave some things for the imagination. Or, you'll just have to visit yourself!
We departed right after eating, and backtracked over the mile we had covered the night before - to the junction with the sign for High Rock Lake.
As soon as we left the gravel road for the two-track dirt one, the surface actually improved! Though narrow, it was hard-packed and fairly smooth. Jonathan was excited. I was still a little concerned about the clouds, but the clear blue band in the distance was encouraging. And besides, I'm always concerned about something.
And then we spotted it - the water crossing. I dismounted and walked into it a ways. There was a layer of soft silt on the bottom, but it seemed to be firm underneath that. It had been over a decade since my friend had ridden through water off-road, so I offered to go first.
It wasn't too bad. Sure I got a little wet, but that's what water-proof gear is for. Jonathan followed, when he saw that I was clear - and made it look like he was a pro.
It was a real confidence booster - for both of us. We'd conquered the water crossing, the first obstacle. Our skills and the bikes' competence had prevailed! The sky was even clearing. What's next?
"Two roads diverged in a yellowish desert." My apologies to Robert Frost. Our new friends had been this way before. "Just follow the main route," they said. "You can't miss it," they said.
Whenever someone says, "You can't miss it," that should be a red flag warning. What they probably mean is "I missed it, but I don't want to admit it; because after I lost hours going the wrong way and finally made it back, it was then really obvious what I had done wrong."
But we weren't completely unprepared for this scenario. I had no less than three maps of the area, each at a different scale, and showing differing details. I always bring a compass as well, which has helped me on more than one occasion in the past. On this trip, however, we had yet another tool to consult - Jonathan's GPS.
I know, "But Troy, you don't believe in using GPS on your bike. You're 'old school.' You'd rather figure it out with pen and paper, or perhaps a willow divining rod."
But it wasn't my GPS, and it wasn't on my bike. OK yes, technically the KLR was my bike, but that's not the point. The truth is that even with satellite assistance, the correct path was not 100 percent apparent. We knew where we were, and we knew where we wanted to go, but the best route to get from A to B was still unclear. We finally made what seemed to be a reasonable decision, utilizing all available resources. I walked back to the KTM and snapped this photo, before we took off, down our chosen route.
I didn't notice it at the time - until I uploaded my photos to the big screen at home. But can you see it? It's dangling from the center of my right pannier box. It might help to compare it with the box on the left. Now you see it.
Not good.
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