Trip Report: Mojave Road II, 2014-03-13 to 16
A trip of many moving parts.
After a successful traverse of the historic Mojave Road, one year ago, the bros. decided to expand our motational conveyances to include:
Three, hard core, fat tire bicycles
Two, trekking BMW crossover motorcycles (650cc and 1100cc)
Two, 400 cc dirt bikes
Two SAG wagons, aka hard side truck campers belonging to Alex and jefe.
Our objective was not to repeat the trip we made a year ago, but allow everyone to create their own trip. This time we would attack 'the road' going west to east; the reverse of our former trip. We loosely agreed to meet in Barstow, CA for an early supper on Thursday the 13th. After many cell phone conversations most of us met for that supper. A couple of the bros were still arranging all their personal details. The bros with the two rental 400cc dirt bikes had to figure out how to get their off-road M.C.'s back to the trailer they came in Barstow once we got to the Colorado River some 146 miles to the east. Alex saved them by volunteering to haul their u-haul the length of the road. "Nothing off-roads like a rental trailer. Nothing." As we pulled off I-15 @ Afton Cyn. Road, everyone quickly removed their bikes from the racks and suited up to get a few miles down 'the road' in the fading sun. Matt bro and John bro setting their GPS':
Mark and Ken starting down Afton Cyn. Road:
Alex left the supper restaurant to backtrack to a staging area where he would pick up Bro Jim and Bro Rey, two m.c.'s and transfer the trailer to his TC. They eventually caught up with us. This pic shows one of the several water crossings where some of the M.C.'s had trouble staying upright.
The plot thickened when Mark went over in the very soft sand and broke his clutch lever.
Well, I guess this is where we'll camp. The trouble was just starting though. The 3 bicycles were always way ahead of the group and i was chef-du-camp and coming in last to pick up the pieces. Alex, Jim, and Rey had finally caught up with us in the cyn. when I ordered they company to get the fire barrel out, put in wood and start the campfire and set up your tents. Ken thought he would go look for them on his 1100cc
beemer but could not locate them, plus the road was getting more sandy and more rocky. On his way back I saw his lights go down and he hurt his ankle. I disconnected the trailer and went looking for the bicycle people with the TC. A flaw in our plans was starting to rear its ugly head; namely a woefully inadequate way to communicate with the troops when the best laid plans abruptly go south. They were miles ahead and it was starting to get dark. They had no lights.
I drove frantically around for about 90 minutes trying to find them in the desert which was all blow sand at this time, in the dark by now. They actually saw my clearance lights floating around the route i thought they might take but they could not reach me. It was eerie. finally on my way back to our abrupt camp they had turned around and worked their way back in the dark. with no lights.
We sat around camp into the evening dreaming about the next day's adventure. Next AM brought a decision by the Beemer folks to fold their tent. Mark's wife was bringing a part up to an off ramp on I-15 so Alex, ever the hero this trip hauled Mark's BMW on the U-haul trailer up the dirt road to the highway, vowing to catch up to us later that day.
Since I pulled up the rear I only had pix of my rig that I took myself. Here's a glamor shot:Kind of a TC selfie.
featuring a pintel upgrade for the trip:
So, now down to 3 fat tire bikes, 2 dirt bikes, and one XTC. There was a lot of blowsand: Front tires @ 30 pounds, rr's @ 28 pounds of air successfully floating on the sand:
Rey in the sand:
Looks pretty much the way it did 150 years ago:
crossing the immense Soda Dry Lake, and luckily it was dry. 10 miles across.
a lunch stop.
Down the road whence we came:
Bro Jim found a nice out-of-the-way camp spot with little space but a lot of loneliness:Alex finally found us:
Next day we were back at it with the bicycles leaving first and staying well ahead of everyone else. I would say they each burned 8K calories per day on the trail riding all day.
This is the view I had most of the rest of the trip:
Alex in the 'V' notch on drop-of-death hill climb: Nothing off-roads like a rental!
and going up the hill: Woowee that thing got to leanin'.
Bro Jim and Rey had a good time trying to get up that loose sandy rutted hill, with a little help from Alex all made it. Once you fall on a 350 pound M.C., on a steep hill, it take extraordinary strength to upright yourself without some help. Some found.
Trapped in an impenetrable forest!
Bro John and Bro Matt took the 'old' road to Fort Piute crossing a washed out trail and meeting us over the mountain for our last camp:
The wagons used to come this way, 150 yrs ago. Take a good look. this is not a place that any of you will ever see. It's just too remote.
Just behind the TC is our last in-dry-creek-bed camp.
Near the end of the road we say goodbye once more:
The three musketeers on bikes at the Colorado River across from Fort Mohave, AZ.
I threw this tome together while waiting for some of the better pix to arrive but didn't.
I may get back and do a clean up and addendum, but this is it for now.
regards, as always, jefe
After a successful traverse of the historic Mojave Road, one year ago, the bros. decided to expand our motational conveyances to include:
Three, hard core, fat tire bicycles
Two, trekking BMW crossover motorcycles (650cc and 1100cc)
Two, 400 cc dirt bikes
Two SAG wagons, aka hard side truck campers belonging to Alex and jefe.
Our objective was not to repeat the trip we made a year ago, but allow everyone to create their own trip. This time we would attack 'the road' going west to east; the reverse of our former trip. We loosely agreed to meet in Barstow, CA for an early supper on Thursday the 13th. After many cell phone conversations most of us met for that supper. A couple of the bros were still arranging all their personal details. The bros with the two rental 400cc dirt bikes had to figure out how to get their off-road M.C.'s back to the trailer they came in Barstow once we got to the Colorado River some 146 miles to the east. Alex saved them by volunteering to haul their u-haul the length of the road. "Nothing off-roads like a rental trailer. Nothing." As we pulled off I-15 @ Afton Cyn. Road, everyone quickly removed their bikes from the racks and suited up to get a few miles down 'the road' in the fading sun. Matt bro and John bro setting their GPS':
Mark and Ken starting down Afton Cyn. Road:
Alex left the supper restaurant to backtrack to a staging area where he would pick up Bro Jim and Bro Rey, two m.c.'s and transfer the trailer to his TC. They eventually caught up with us. This pic shows one of the several water crossings where some of the M.C.'s had trouble staying upright.
The plot thickened when Mark went over in the very soft sand and broke his clutch lever.
Well, I guess this is where we'll camp. The trouble was just starting though. The 3 bicycles were always way ahead of the group and i was chef-du-camp and coming in last to pick up the pieces. Alex, Jim, and Rey had finally caught up with us in the cyn. when I ordered they company to get the fire barrel out, put in wood and start the campfire and set up your tents. Ken thought he would go look for them on his 1100cc
beemer but could not locate them, plus the road was getting more sandy and more rocky. On his way back I saw his lights go down and he hurt his ankle. I disconnected the trailer and went looking for the bicycle people with the TC. A flaw in our plans was starting to rear its ugly head; namely a woefully inadequate way to communicate with the troops when the best laid plans abruptly go south. They were miles ahead and it was starting to get dark. They had no lights.
I drove frantically around for about 90 minutes trying to find them in the desert which was all blow sand at this time, in the dark by now. They actually saw my clearance lights floating around the route i thought they might take but they could not reach me. It was eerie. finally on my way back to our abrupt camp they had turned around and worked their way back in the dark. with no lights.
We sat around camp into the evening dreaming about the next day's adventure. Next AM brought a decision by the Beemer folks to fold their tent. Mark's wife was bringing a part up to an off ramp on I-15 so Alex, ever the hero this trip hauled Mark's BMW on the U-haul trailer up the dirt road to the highway, vowing to catch up to us later that day.
Since I pulled up the rear I only had pix of my rig that I took myself. Here's a glamor shot:Kind of a TC selfie.
featuring a pintel upgrade for the trip:
So, now down to 3 fat tire bikes, 2 dirt bikes, and one XTC. There was a lot of blowsand: Front tires @ 30 pounds, rr's @ 28 pounds of air successfully floating on the sand:
Rey in the sand:
Looks pretty much the way it did 150 years ago:
crossing the immense Soda Dry Lake, and luckily it was dry. 10 miles across.
a lunch stop.
Down the road whence we came:
Bro Jim found a nice out-of-the-way camp spot with little space but a lot of loneliness:Alex finally found us:
Next day we were back at it with the bicycles leaving first and staying well ahead of everyone else. I would say they each burned 8K calories per day on the trail riding all day.
This is the view I had most of the rest of the trip:
Alex in the 'V' notch on drop-of-death hill climb: Nothing off-roads like a rental!
and going up the hill: Woowee that thing got to leanin'.
Bro Jim and Rey had a good time trying to get up that loose sandy rutted hill, with a little help from Alex all made it. Once you fall on a 350 pound M.C., on a steep hill, it take extraordinary strength to upright yourself without some help. Some found.
Trapped in an impenetrable forest!
Bro John and Bro Matt took the 'old' road to Fort Piute crossing a washed out trail and meeting us over the mountain for our last camp:
The wagons used to come this way, 150 yrs ago. Take a good look. this is not a place that any of you will ever see. It's just too remote.
Just behind the TC is our last in-dry-creek-bed camp.
Near the end of the road we say goodbye once more:
The three musketeers on bikes at the Colorado River across from Fort Mohave, AZ.
I threw this tome together while waiting for some of the better pix to arrive but didn't.
I may get back and do a clean up and addendum, but this is it for now.
regards, as always, jefe
tried to de-rail us and we will all have check into better radios what we was wholey inadequate.
