WABDR: Section 3

SECTION 3: The Washout

“Do you ever just find yourself smiling real big because we are doing this?” I asked Jen.

“No, I randomly start laughing when I think of you doing this trip.” 

We chuckled about it a bit before taking a quick sidetrip to check out an old working saloon and segregated cemetery in Roslyn Kevin told us about. 

There was a bit of asphalt to ride before getting back on the route. Eight miles on the freeway with a little 250cc can be nerve-wracking to say the least. Add 18-wheelers and RVs to the equation, and it is downright daunting. The speed limit was 70. My bike went 55 before it would start shaking.  Before too long, we were at our exit.

Back to country roads. Wind in my face, music in my ear, my sister behind me, I was in top of the world. Add the incredible scenery. Joy was pouring out my every pore. 

We pulled over to get photos of the bouquet for our eyes. Unfortunately, smell was the sense being accosted. Something smelled bad. Really bad. Imagine a teenager’s room...dirty socks, moldy food, and a lack of discipline to wear deodorant. It was like that...but worse. With a little exploration, Jennifer found the source of our wizened nose. A dead deer. I plugged my nose and continued taking pictures. She went on ahead a bit. 

Soon we were back on the WABDR. The first part of Section 3 was a lot of asphalt, which for some reason always makes me feel a bit more secure. Even through the crazy switchbacks. 

Much of the route is cattle country. Meaning, one needs to be on the lookout for cows. That was not on my radar when I turned a corner and there was a cow standing in the road looking at me. I don’t think they know what to do when visitors come in their road. Honestly, I didn’t know what the cow would do. Would he charge us? Did I need to give him a smack on his rump to send him on his way? Were there other cows that would join him in sending us on our way? We looked at each other for a bit and I slowly rolled by. He looked around a bit before running off. 

One of the consistent  challenges on our trip was the load on the back of our bikes. We (and when I say “we”, I mean Jennifer) frequently stopped to adjust our stuff. We did not want a repeat of the tent. (For those who didn’t read that part, the tent was too close to the exhaust on my bike and burned holes in it our first day on the trail.)

 We continued on, nature smiling down on us with her bright smile full of sunlight and warmth. Before long, the scenery changed. The grace of a time past offered tranquility. Her silver trees holding out branches to welcome us in as bright flowers danced at her feet. 

Some might call the shadows of trees past eerie. To me, it brought the same peace and serenity the old cemetery did that morning. 

Back on the bikes, I was in a state of reflection...for about 30 seconds. The cliffs. Excuse me, the SLOPES, were high! I was thinking about my imminent  death were I to go off the side. There was no way I was going to ride on my side of the road with the 1000 foot drop-off only inches away. (I might be exaggerating the length of the drop-off, but I doubt it.) I invoked the best strategy I could think of, I pretended I was in Uganda where they ride on the opposite side of the road...and I prayed nothing was coming the other way. Me writing this is proof that my guardian angel was clearing a path for me. 

We stopped for a break at the top of some mountain. It was so beautiful! Slopes were all around us. Per usual, I stayed back quite a ways while Jennifer dangled her feet over the side. Surprisingly, I had a great signal on my phone. Rather than eat or have some water, I went live on Facebook. I talked of doing things I never thought possible, ie. this trip, encouraging others to do the same. 

I was on top of the world. Here I was, little ol’ scared of heights Me on top of a mountain. ON A DUALSPORT BIKE that I just started riding A WEEK AGO!! The 13 year old in me was giddy with power of self. The superpower in me emerging in the 55 year old me.

We continued on. With each roll of the wheels, I shed a bit more uncertainty and gained confidence in all that I can, no, WILL be. 

I kept my head up, followed my line, and turned the throttle to go a bit faster. I avoided ruts. Rode standing up gravelly hills. Went confidently up a muddy hill. A sketchy hill lay ahead. Still confident, I rolled the throttle and chose my line….and went down toward the top of the hill. 

Yes, that was the road. Doesn’t really look like one, does it? Enter my Superhero Sister. We got the bike up in no time. This fall was not like the others. I didn’t lose my confidence because of it. It was more like my Poet Lover went down to protect me from what was coming. I walked ahead a bit to check out what was coming. Upon seeing the road, or lack thereof, my response was, “Hell NO!” I didn’t even have a clue how to get over the next two small hills. It was apparent a washout had taken place.

We looked up in the ridge and saw a white pickup trip. Jennifer walked up to talk to him to find out what was ahead. (This is when I should have taken more pictures of the washout.) First thing she asked him is if he rode. She was hoping he would ride the bikes through it for us. No such luck. We were on our own. 

Again, I will remind you of who is on this trip. Me. Brand new to riding off road and my sister who had been riding for about ten months. If gender or age makes a difference to you, we are women in our 50s. We had to figure this out! 

Poet Lover is an extraordinary bike! He can get over anything - if the riders knows what they are doing. In that situation, I didn’t. My Superhero Sister rode my bike to safer ground. Then she went back to do the same with hers. In the meantime, the man in the truck told me to ride the bike up a bit further while waited to make sure she made it over. I did not like being out of radio range from Jennifer. I figured the best thing I could do was go park my bike up by the sign where he suggested.

I did. I put my kickstand down and glanced at the sign, “ROAD CLOSED: Unsafe for Travel”. My brain shut down and I climbed off the wrong side of the bike. Know what happens when you do that? The bike falls over. 

Jennifer came into view. Bike still lying on the ground leaking gas. She is crying because she did something she didn’t think she could. My emotions are catching up with me. And she sees the bike on the ground. She didn’t even have time to revel in her accomplishment before she had to come to my rescue. Again. 

She rode two bikes through the washout. One of them loaded down with the majority of our gear making it super heavy. 

Me? I made it through about 1/10th of it. 

Let’s recap what my sister, the Superhero just did. The road was closed. She rode not one, but two bikes through it. Overriding anxiety and doubt with a “gotta do it” and “I CAN do it. Successfully.” attitude. And then she helped me pick up my bike. Seriously, is my sister the best or what?! 

As a mishap tends to do to me, I slowed down. I started walking up switchbacks that I would have ridden up the day before. “You were going 25 on roads like this yesterday.” Whatever. I just wanted to get to Wenatchee and stop for the day. 

After the crazy washout, Jen made the decision it was a good night for a hotel. The evening brought assistance to find a room in the form of another rider, brick oven pizza, purchases at a super dope bookstore, a walk along the riverfront, and a walk in search of a charger cable. 

We are owning our todays...and our tomorrows. We are living. Our Epic Adventure continues...