RawHyde Adventures 2006

RawHyde Adventures

Secret Rally
February 2nd-5th, 2006
China Ranch Date Farm
Death Valley
Tecopa, California

WARNING: If you are sensitive to four-letter words, breathtaking adventures and the thought of crashing your motorcycle into the side of a mountain, the following journal may not be for you. You have been warned!

Friday, February 3, 2006, 8:17 AM

Good morning! First the trek here…

We left Thursday morning at about 8:15 AM, stopped to grab food, ice and gas and finally rolled out of Davis at about 8:55. Glad we trailered down as the morning was cold and damp. South of Lathrop we ran into 2 other rally people – one with a GS in the back of his truck (have fun unloading that!) and another truck towing at least 5 off-road bikes, even a quad. We were on our way…

Found the first way-point out in the middle of B-Fucking-E, dude! Got our coordinates (very windy!) and headed off to number 2. Love having the GPS in the truck and the XM radio. Fueled up before heading out again – watch out for the locals in front of the gas station store. Don’t be a female all alone. Bring your gun.

Turned left onto 127 from 15 and headed out to nowhere. No, seriously. Barely any cars would pass, but it was beautiful! The sun was going down, the dunes looked awesome and the mountains even more beautiful. Turned left on some god-forsaken dirt road (it actually had a name and was on the GPS!) and headed west to more nowhere. Found the hill for the waypoint and a few other riders. COULDN’T FIND THE F*&@ING TABLET! Almost gave up and then Terry spotted it. No shwag to be found as all the visitors before took all the shirts. Damn. Took the pic and away we went. Only 30 some-odd miles to go, the longest stretch of the trip.

So, where are we? China Ranch Date Farm! Check it out – it’s near Tecopa. You know, Tecopa? The land of nobody. Okay, there’s a post office and a hotel up the road. Checked in (think they tapped the keg before we got there…classic) and was led to our tent site by a cool chick, 30’s-40’s maybe (finally met her later – Cheryl), and DAMN!, she hopped right on her dirt bike like a pro, riding side-saddle. Hmmmm. Paying attention – gotta learn to ride when we get home. So now, pitch black, setting up the tent, kinda pissy, need a drink. Ah, Jager in the cooler.

Gotta get ready for today’s ride. I’ll write more later!!!


Saturday, February 4, 2006, 8:49 AM

Dude, where do I begin…

Took off yesterday morning on a group ride. About 35 of us took off following Jim, only 2 bikes that were 2-up. Little did I know that as passengers, we were going to be dubbed the bravest people on the ride.

Took off toward the mountain range and the road quickly turned to dirt. Our first stop after about 10 miles and about half the dudes are peeing already. Couldn’t take any pics until Austin Powers finished his power-pee. We had no idea what we were in for…

So here we are, first time riding 2-up on the dirt, and we are thrown into the lions’ den. Off we go up, up, up and allllllllmost down. We never stood up together (thanks, Cheryl, for kicking our asses later) and just about dropped the bike once. Talk about a mix of dirt, sand and gravel that can fuck you up. We both put our feet down, bracing for the fall. But, alas, no ground contact. I honestly was never scared as I trusted my driver (and I always do). Up further we went into the range, sweatin’ like you wouldn’t believe. We would follow the path of least resistance/sand and dirt. Watch out for rocks that slip – that would be all of them. Just as we’re about the get to the peak, A FUCKING STEER RUNS ACROSS THE BIKE IN FRONT OF US. Dude, a steer! Livestock, out in BFE, California?!? I was bustin’ a stitch laughing out of sheer disbelief. Awesome. Got to the summit, parked it, and got our first and most useful advice from Cheryl. Thank GOD that she was there to help. The advice: stand up, both of you, and the back end won’t be as squirrelly. Then another dude tried to continue her thoughts and give a “lecture”. Needless to say, Terry just turned and walked. Dude kept talkin’, Terry kept walkin’. Didn’t get the hint. I think Terry heard Jim say that the ride turned out to be a little more difficult than expected. One bike went down and an on-the-spot repair was made. Between all of us, we had several tubes of JB Weld, duct tape and other forms of liquid tools.

We kept going, found the paved road and turned left onto Power Line Road. But while on the paved road, I had a chance to hang back and enjoy the landscape. I looked up and the sky was a maze of jet steam trails, a beautiful blue painted with streaming white ribbons. The area is surrounded by at least 3-5 military bases and other various military sites so there were bound to be many planes flying overhead. What we assumed to be sonic booms could be heard for many miles. Power Line Road turned out to be another good dirt road for which Terry and I stood 90% of the time. Made it to another summit overlooking Stateline, NV. Learned that a 650 just up and died behind us. A couple of people went back to pick up the rider and would send someone out later to pick up the bike. The rest of us took off for Stateline. What a cool ride in, dropping right into a casino

parking lot. Fucking crazy!! But wait, we landed right across the street from Buffalo Bill’s, home of the infamous rollercoaster that Terry, Tom and I rode years ago on our way home from Lake Havasu. Ah, memories… Wish Tom and Keith could be here. Pulled right into the gas station, first thing. Turned around to take a look at where we’d been and just marveled at the fact that we rode out of a mountain range into another state, into civilization. Let’s just say that civilization was a little fascinated with us. We met as a group across the freeway at the Chevron/Starbucks. I guess with over 30 dusty, sweaty, off-road riders, you’re going to attract a little attention. People were taking pictures, checking out the bikes. Hey, I couldn’t believe that we were there either! Terry and I pussed out and took the freeway back to China Ranch. Man, after 5 hours of riding 2-up, standing up and holding on with the death grip, you get a little tired. Five of us headed out to the 15 headed towards Baker then back to the ranch. Later we heard that it was a good idea that we didn’t follow the pack as the ride proved to be more difficult than first thought. Bikes went down. Sidebar – the GPS rocks!

Didn’t get back to the ranch until about 4:15 (it was over 100 miles back), grabbed our suits and shower gear and headed over to Delights Hot Springs Hotel. Man, this place looked toe-up from the outside (think boxes on top of dirt surrounded by trailers and mobile homes) but it was a smidge of heaven for all of us. Walked in like we owned the place (as Jim told us to) and noticed a lot of guys walking in and out of the different baths, some naked. Nice. Don’t really need to see 50 year old sack that just crawled out of a pot of boiling water. But then they didn’t really expect to see me their either. Remember, there are 150 people at this rally, 8 are women, so the ratio is soooo in the chicks favor. Saw a room called the “Lobster Pot”, opened the door and found ‘the guys’ simmering, drinking beer and jawin’ about the day. (The guys: Pete, Austin, Jules, Scott and a few other random dudes.) We hopped on in (okay, slowly entered) and enjoying the 110(?) degree water. Later, Pete admitted that just 5 minutes before we got there that they really hoped that Terry and I were there to join them. Gotta love my boys! Found the women’s bathroom, showered then went on the hunt for a friggin’ plug for the blow dryer. Hello!! Women’s bathroom with NO PLUGS?!? Found one OUTSIDE in the DARK, so away I went. Even straightened the do. Fabulous.

Drove back for dinner that was later dubbed “that chewy brown meat”. Don’t get me wrong, the food was excellent the entire time, but that night the meat was a little ‘difficult.’ Austin’s knife even jumped out of his hand, went through the slat in the bar and wouldn’t come out. No joke. Then, Terry spotted the G-string which as soon as Pete saw it dubbed it the eye patch. Ah, to act like you’re fourteen again. Sweetheart, you’re a beautiful girl, but when you’re wearing a thong in front of 150 dudes, you gotta tuck it in or at least even up the sides. I love guy humor. I’m so glad that we hooked up with the Ventura guys – we ALWAYS find the band of cool dudes up for a fabulous time and all the “shenanigans’ to go with it (i.e. the cooler..wink, wink). Wouldn’t have it any other way. And we’re always hanging out by the bar. Go figure. Used up 2 of my 3 beer tickets that night. Gotta pace myself or make some connections.


Sunday, February 5, 2006, 12:58 PM

Driving home up I-5, plugged into the inverter, downloading pictures and trying to complete my entries. We were away from camp during the day and cleaning up & eating/drinking/talking at night which leaves zero time for typing. Technology has helped me once again. Oops! Pulling off for some In-N-Out, chat more later.




Sunday, February 5, 2006, 2:14 PM

The Bay Area gang was hanging at the Chevron station at Kettleman City taking a break before the home stretch. Met some very cool local boys – Brent, Issa, etc. Hope to get a ride in with them sometime in the future.

Anyway, our Saturday ride. I don’t even know where to start, but here goes…

Because we woke up totally sore from the previous day’s ride, we were banking on a road trip to Vegas, take the scenic route, get a new tat, ride back in time for dinner. But you know I’m always up for shuffling the plans. Austin and Jules wandered over and were chattin’ with the dudes next to us as I made them some coffee. We asked Austin where they were going that day and he invited us out with them. Now keep in mind, these guys are waaaaaay more experienced than us AND they’re riding solo. Over rides Hans and Pete, Austin mentions to Pete that we might be interested and Pete waves us on. It’s a go and we have no idea what kind of day we’re in for, thankfully. We suit up (Damn! Our gear stanks! Whew!!) and off we ride into the desert, 8 bikes and 9 people. We gassed up in Shoshone with everybody else (Jim’s ride, other group rides, some Harley folks). When you’re the only gas for miles, you get a little busy. We took off north of 127 and turned left onto a dirt road. Jeff went ahead to check out the road, came back thumbs up and we were off once again and standing up once again. If we only knew…

When we hit that first patch of sand, we stopped in our tracks and went right over. The future did not look bright. Okay, so it was our first drop of the trip. No problem. Let’s pick it up and press on. But wait, the entire next ¼ mile is all deep sand and gravel (I know, guys, it’s not as deep as Friday’s ride, but deep enough) and we’re riding 2-up. Gotta keep going. I’m now off the bike and Terry’s trying to just get the back tire to catch, something (remember, we’re on streets not nobby’s). It does catch and the bike goes over again and is now somewhat stuck in the sand. Now is when the real party begins. ‘Fuck’ and ‘shit’ are being thrown around with every other word. And speaking of throwing, if Terry could’ve thrown the bike he would’ve. And it just pisses ya off even more when you can’t. Pete came over, helped get the bike up and out of the first patch of sand. I saw in Terry’s eyes that he was ready to throw in the helmet – if the whole ride was going to be like this, why bother? Because it can only get better from here and it did, for a little while. Austin also dropped his bike and rung his bell pretty good. Scratched up the new Arai Enduro – a little pissed, but he saved his nugget. Terry rode up to the hard pack and I hiked it to the meeting spot. Took one for the team. So, off again we went, last in line as the rest of the guys were good and fast. As long as Terry and I stayed up and didn’t veer from our line, we were golden. But all it took was that front tire catching some of that deep sand in the median, and we were sliding into home plate, bike and all. Fortunately, neither of us was hurt though the bike took some good scratches. Fuck and shit again. We picked it up, dusted off and saw Pete coming back our way. We got back and took off for Dead Man’s Pass with Pete in tow, watching our backs. Cheers to Pete.


We made it! Dead Man’s Pass, 3300 feet! We survived. Notch that ride up. Took some pics, ate some food and pressed on to the next meeting spot. That ride was cool, up the whole time. Now the arches in the feet are starting to burn. Can’t turn back nor puss out (that was yesterday). We were off to Willow Springs, another 11 or 12 miles to go. Now it was really getting beautiful and starting to get more treacherous for us riding 2-up on streets. The sand was now replaced with washes, good up and down hillside terrain and lots of sliding rocks with some gravel thrown in just for shits and giggles. Up and over we went, cutting off Hans (sorry!) one time when we had to gun it up a steep climb. Couldn’t stop. Another stop at an awesomely beautiful locale, snow on the far mountains, peaks everywhere, and a trail that led down, down, down. Five miles from our destination. Determination reigns supreme. About ½ mile from the spot and we roll up on the guys as they were surveying Jeff’s bike. Seems he took quite a good spill (Damn! Missed it.) His radiator took the brunt. A small repair and we’re sliding down into the canyon. Beautiful and remote. Perfect. Lunch it first then make all the necessary repairs. Sprawled our dirty, battered bodies across a large hunk of granite and savored the Ziploc lunch. Hey Jeff, where are your pickles? And the peppers? Even the chick got pickles – must be a racial thing. Jules, how does the banana taste? A little pickled? Starting to run low on water, making Terry nervous. Lunch took a while as Jeff’s radiator needed to be patched up and Jules’ bike also had some issues. Hans to the rescue with the rusty barbed wire! I was secretly wondering how the hell Terry and I were going to get out of there alive. I know that it was on his brain, too. We were both exhausted, sore, the confidence having been tested on many occasions that afternoon. Too much time off the bike proved to be fatal to the body. Stiff. Twinges in odd places. Arms and arches burning. It was around 1:30 before we started heading out. Right off the bat we had issues. The road going in and out was slippery, difficult for two and more of a challenge than we anticipated. But there was only one way out and we knew we had 20 miles before the road. We almost went over at least twice before the crash that proved to be our worst yet. As we’re climbing up the side of a mountain, steep drop on our left, we hit a bad patch of sand and gravel and the bike twisted over and on us, horn blaring, engine still running, back tire spinning, sliding down the mountain. Stopping sliding only because my left foot was trapped between the bike frame and a very sharp rock. I’m yelling in my helmet, “Get the bike off my foot! Get the bike off my foot!” But Terry can’t hear me over the horn. He sees me trapped and I hear him growl and muscle the bike off. I spin around and plant my heels into the gravel as to avoid slipping anymore. Pete was behind us, thankfully, and helped calm down the situation. The only solution? I took off on a ½ mile hike up the mountain trail while Terry regained his composure and some confidence. They soon rolled up behind me, Pete offering to take me up, but I assured him it was just a day on the treadmill but knew that I could drop at any moment. Couldn’t show fear or fatigue. I wasn’t going to give up and neither was Terry. We continued leap-frogging for a while. Terry made the executive decision that I was to ride with Pete if we were to get back to the road. No problem, daddy. I completely understand. Pete adjusted the rack on the back of his bike and off we went once again, our pride a little bruised but all in one piece. We met up with the group; all wore a look of concern when they saw me with Pete. After we relayed the story, everyone offered up food, water, whatever. I dig these guys. No matter what, we had each other’s back. Rock on. So, I continued riding with Pete till we got to the pavement, about another 9 miles. With experience and a set of nobby’s on his side, Pete took off at about 55 to 65 through the valley. Nice. But it was even nicer climbing on the back of Terry’s 1150. Headed to Shoshone for a case of beer for the guys then off to the tubs. Back at camp around 5:15 with a camera full of pictures, a body full of bruises and a day full of memories.

We pack up the whole stinky crew, beers in head, and drive over to the tubs. Jeff mentioned that he didn’t have a suit and would I mind if he went naked? Not a problem, dude. He ended up borrowing a pair of boxers from Jules. I think I may have called his bluff (Buff?) We rolled up on the Lobster Pot with a line of dudes at the shower, thankfully all clothed. Damn that water felt goooood!!! I couldn’t wait to wash off the day’s sweat and dig out the rocks in my scalp. We all sat drinking our beer, reminiscing about the day and wishing that SOMEBODY delivered pizza to Tecopa. Once again, I was off to the shower, not wanting to hold up the guys. Pete was leaving soon so I had to make sure and see him off. After bitchin’ about driving my fat-ass around all afternoon, it’s a kiss and a hug with a promise to keep in touch. We were about to pile back in the Yukon when Robert, Tecopa artisan water extraordinaire, offers to show us the springs and give the 50 cent tour. Hey, we’re game! This water was so sacred that they used only the best plywood and boulder Tecopa had to offer to keep out the riff-raff. And then we walked by the single-wides to see the lake of run-off water. Robert, you’re a strange little man. Classic.

Riding back to camp with a bunch of drunk dudes is a moment to behold. Vagina jerky? Gotta love it – thanks John! We were STARVING!! Please, let there be food left!! What do you mean you might be out of chicken? Wait, here comes another tray. Whew. Grab that bottle of wine with the ticket (thankfully still had that) and start shoveling in the food. As we’re eating, we’re talking with Adam, one of the RawHyde food guys, about riding 2-up. He and his wife, Danielle, are pretty much experts and offers to go on some rides sometime in the future. Sounds fab. Need more food. And where are the brownies? Drunk, full, exhausted. Hey, let’s hang out and watch some of the Baja 1000. Insane but looks like a load of fun. Don’t think you can do that 2-up. Terry’s body starts going numb so we drag our battered selves back to the tent. A little watcha, a little lovin’ and it’s nighty-night sweet prince. Wow, what a weekend.

Sunday morning. Hmmph. It was a sad morning, not just because we had to leave but because we could barely move. Rigor mortis. And we have to pack up? Fuck. Okay, quit complaining and get moving. Almost done, made some coffee, exchanged cards with Austin, and trudged on. Sausage and French toast for breakfast? Golden. After several thank you’s and promises of future rides, we have to set off. But not before we pay the good people of China Ranch a visit. Lots of goodies in the store to bring back for everyone. And we miss Jack terribly but know that he’s in good hands.

I can’t end this journey without thanking all those who helped us make it through the sand and the experience. To Jim Hyde, thank you for RawHyde, your expertise and your open & welcoming personality. It was great to meet Stephanie and Jamie Lynn. You have a wonderful thing in RawHyde and your crew can’t be matched. Thank you. To Cheryl, thanks for kicking our asses and promising to corrupt me. Don’t worry – I won’t let you down. To Pete, Austin, Jules, Hans and all the Ventura guys, you helped make the trip and the experience, something I’ll never forget. I hope to continue a long and venturous friendship. You guys rock more than you know. And Pete, thanks for saving our asses and for being the sweeper, even if it meant going 25 miles an hour. And Austin, here’s to the Triathlon Support Group! Now get to running, dammit! To Sean, the porno camera man, looking forward to the DVD. Too bad you missed the crashes! To the Bay Area guys, hope to get some rides in soon. It was great meeting all of you. To Tami, you flew over the handlebars. You win, babe. Thanks you China Ranch for letting us invade. You have a beautiful property and hope to visit again some day. And to all the guys who gave us props for riding 2-up on streets, we appreciated the support. But it’s my husband, Terry that deserves my love and praises the most. Wouldn’t be here if you didn’t find that adventurous blood deep within. Thank you for putting up with your crazy wife. We push and support each other, and I couldn’t ask for a better teammate. You’re my rock, Mr. T! Cheers to us.

See you next year RawHyders, hopefully sooner and hopefully on my own 650. Now Pete, about that deal…