Epic Adventure: Riding the Washington BDR

PROLOGUE

“Hey Mandie, let’s ride the TAT (TransAmerican Trail)  on dual sports bikes next year!” my sister, Jennifer, suggested.

“Sure!” I was quick to agree. She lives on the West coast, I live on the East. Any chance to spend together, I was going to take it.

This is a good place for me to mention I had no idea what a dual sports bike was. She has been riding a variety of motorcycles for about 40 years. Me? Me and my 750 Shadow, Layla, had put on about 40,000 miles in the five years I have been riding. She puts on that kind of mileage in a month.

A few months later, Jennifer decided the Washington BDR (Backcountry Discovery Route) would be a better fit as it was shorter and a bit easier. I was cool with it. I was in it to spend time with my sister. It was no big deal to me where we did it. Over the next few months, she purchased a bike for the both of us and outfitted it for our epic adventure. And then she practiced every weekend until I arrived.

I would tell people what I was doing. Nobody knew what a dual sports bike was. Neither did I, really. To me it was a dirt bike with lights and mirrors. Really, how different could it be from riding my bike? When I said that, people would look at me and shake their heads.

Finally, I boarded the plane from NC to WA, suitcase packed with the whole three outfits I would be wearing for the next three weeks.

TRAINING

It was three days before I even laid eyes on the bike I would be riding. All that anxiety I had about being too short to get my leg up over the bike disappeared as soon as I straddled her. Immediately, a smile lit up my face for the adventure that was to take place in just a few days.

Anybody who has done any kind of riding knows there is safety equipment you should always wear. The off-road variety is big and bulky. The only part I brought with me were the gloves. Luckily, Jennifer was able to outfit me with boots, a jacket, and a helmet. I was now ready to train.

My teacher was my sister Jennifer who has been riding dual sports for a little under a year. My first lesson consisted of doing figure eights in the church parking lot. They were a bit longer and wider than one would hope for. But, standing and riding?! I caught on quickly...when going straight.

I soon graduated to riding a big circle in the cemetery. “Ride in a loop. Don’t ride over any of the graves.”

The fact we were riding in a cemetery was not lost on me. In an instant, this trip became real. Were these tombstones a sign of my impending death? I kept my thoughts to myself as I continued to ride the loop avoiding riding over the final resting places of strangers. Feeling confident with my riding abilities, it was time for my next lesson. The river.

My first real experience with gravel. I avoid it at all costs on my Shadow. On the dual sports bike, it was fun! In no time I was going 25 and feeling the wind in my face.

“You’re doing great! Keep your head up and follow a line. Your bike will follow.”

Jennifer let me lead the way although, asking me to slow down from time to time. She kept saying something about clutch control. Whatever.  I was having a ball! My only goal was to avoid going into the river. I am happy to say, I succeeded! The day’s lesson ended on a high note.

As most learning goes, the next day the lesson was leveled up. Enter the assistant teacher, my nephew Jeffery. Both he and my sister took me back to the river. This time, it was a different part. From gravel to sand. Let’s talk about riding in sand. There is no traction to be had.

“The best way to handle sand is to roll the throttle.” I was advised.

I have no idea how I didn’t go down in the sand, but somehow I made it. There was also some practice on tire ruts. At one point, I crushed my ankle when I got it too close to the side of the hill. I ignored the pain and kept riding. Apparently, I passed because it was time to level up once more.

Jennifer and Jeffery talked of a difficult hill. I paid little mind to it. After all, I nailed the river! The trail on the powerline was pleasant. It was suggested that I ride in the front. I passed on that. There is no way I wanted to feel the pressure of people behind me. Therefore, Jeffery took the front, I rode in the middle, and my sister took the rear. It was a beautiful ride. And then the hill came….

I had been warned that it was rocky and if I took it slow I would be okay. I was super proud when I got to the bottom of the hill...only to find out, it wasn’t THE hill. The next hill intimidated me right away. However, when one doesn’t know any better, one makes it happen, albeit slowly. The majority of the time, my legs were straddling the bike walking it down the hill while Jeffery waited at the bottom and Jennifer patiently followed behind me. A big sigh of relief could be heard as soon as I hit the bottom of the hill.

“Congratulations! You made it!” Jennifer told me.

The ride went into slow motion about that time. I gave it some gas. Immediately, the bike jerked. I remember telling my hand to turn the other way. But, no, I went right for the whiskey throttle with no idea in my head about how to stop the bike. I saw the tree approaching and knew ther was no way I was going to be able to avoid it. I proceeded to crash hard into a tree. The bike fell on my thigh making it impossible for me to get out from under it.

“Will somebody get this bike off of me?” I yelled to my teachers.

“Jamie, get the bike off Mandie!” My sister yelled.

It is important to note here that Jeffery, her son, was the one who was with us. My brother, Jamie, is who she was calling to. Jamie was no where near us. As a matter of fact, he was back home on the East coast.

“Jamie, get that bike off her! Hurry up!!”

“Call me by my right name. My name is not Jamie!”

Feeling the weight of the bike on my leg I yelled, “Can we figure out your name after you get it off my leg?”

Soon the bike was up and we were ready to get back to the lesson. We continued on our way. Gravel roads were the next part of our trip. We continued on them until we got to a beautiful viewpoint.

No more mishaps. We headed home by way of the bike park. I passed on the opportunity to ride around. I wasn’t going to push it. I was done for the day.

Because we were going to embark on a mountain adventure in a couple of days, Jen thought it would be prudent to take me on a ride around Mount St. Helens. It was on this ride that I realized heights might be an issue on this trip. Mainly, the anxiety I feel when I have to deal with them.

It was a beautiful day for a ride. A bit overcast, but the weather was nice. Until we started going uphill. It got cold quickly! I was handling it all rather well….until the freshly laid gravel came. Do you know why gravel does to a bike? It bounces it all over he place! So much so that I thought for sure I was going to fall off. So I did what one does when feeling out of control, I slowed down….waiting for the gravel to end. Five miles that gravel went on. Each gravel laden hill getting steeper and steeper.

“Do we come down this same way?” I asked Jen through the intercom system.

“Yup!”

Seriously?! I am going to have to ride DOWN those steep hills on gravel?! I dreaded it, but quickly put it out of my head to focus on my riding. Keeping my line so I would not see how close the edge was.

At the top, we relaxed for a bit and drank some water. We also practiced relieving ourselves on the side of the trail. I was thankful for all those squats I did before this trip!

As we know, what goes up, must come down. I was filled with dread and anxiety about going down. It might be important to note here that there is a fine line between the speed I pick up when going downhill and the sense of control I have. I slowed it down a bit until I became impatient. Even in the gravel, I found my line and rolled back the throttle. I was so proud of myself for hitting 25mph!

My first 80 mile day was in the bag! I was ready for the BDR!