The trail continued on its jolly way but now each rut seemed mildly menacing. Having sloshed, stumbled, and squished my way across a water hazard with all the grace of a drunk elephant, I wanted to get to the other side of this particular patch of trail without retreating. I was a little cold but not too bad. As soon as I found a real road, I’d hightail it for the truck, its heater, and the complete change of clothes that’s always stashed amid my truck’s clutter.
At the moment there wasn’t much I could do. My feet and legs were coated in filthy mud. I had dry socks in my luggage but what’s the point of dry socks in wet boots?
The trail was dry and passible and everything was looking great right up until it wasn’t. Just when I thought I was nearing the salvation of another road; I met the second water hazard. Just like the first, this one could not be circumvented.
At the first water hazard my choices were left, right, or retreat. Now my choices were left, right, or retreat into something that just kicked my ass. I considered my dwindling options for a few minutes. Things weren’t too serious yet. It wasn’t too late in the day, it wasn’t too cold, and more to the point I’d have to get myself out on my own anyway. Maybe the Dodge could traverse the last hazard but that’s an iffy proposition (I don’t own a winch). Certainly Mrs. Curmudgeon couldn’t pilot the behemoth though that mess. I needed to get the bike and myself back to civilization on my own. Even if I chose to walk out, that wouldn’t help. I’d not only leave myself with the problem of abandoned equipment in the forest but I’d have to waddle thorough one of two water hazards anyway.
Adventure is like that. It gets more interesting with each problem.
I sighed. There was nothing for it. I gave up all hope of keeping my feet on the foot pegs and resigned myself to a few minutes of messy chaos. There might be swearing and some spinning of the rear tire but it would be over soon. I plunged into the second water hazard.
Bad choice!
The first water hazard exceeded my abilities but a better rider could have done it pretty well. The second water hazard was just plain stupid for anybody. (Cut me some slack, I’m still learning what can and cannot be done with an off-road motorcycle.)
Things went pear shaped right away! In just the first few feet, the front tire fucking disappeared! I had no idea the water was that deep. I didn’t have time to register surprise because everything went to shit in a flash. When the front tire vanished, it sent up a wave in front of me and I gunned it to keep up with the wave; lest the water get too deep and kill my engine. This did exactly no good because the bike sputtered out immediately. Panicked, I put my foot down to hold things up. There was nothing there.
The bike and I went over.
It was a flat out, full-fledged, no holds barred, complete wipeout. I landed on my left side… underwater!
My God it was cold!
I popped up fast and with a minimum of drama. It’s not the first time I’ve received a surprise dunking in a pond and, sadly, it probably won’t be the last.
Apparently, I had the good sense or luck to leap off the bike because I was next to the prone beast and not straddling it and flopping around like a fish in a net. Happily, I didn’t get water in my full-face helmet but pretty much every square inch of the rest of me was doused. None of this bothered me. At the time I only had two thoughts. The first was to get my feet under me… which happened more or less automatically. The second was to rescue the submerged machine… which wasn’t going to happen automatically unless I had a magic wand.
Just a few seconds after going over I had my footing and shoved the bike upright. Which, in some ways was good news. In other ways, two seconds is an eternity.
I found myself standing balls deep in the coldest damn water this side of the Arctic; clutching the handlebars in a death grip and fuming. What had gotten over me? I was absolutely shocked at myself. How is it that I’d done something this unhinged? The bike was kaput, of course, but I clicked off the ignition and reached down to shut off the gas line. There wasn’t much else I could do at the moment.
Hoping for a quick escape, I pushed the bike forward. It didn’t move an inch.
I allowed myself a brief expression of my frustration. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!”
After that very short break, I began struggling with the bike. I quickly realized the reason it wouldn’t roll was that it was still in gear. With some splashing and several awkward kicks at the shifter I got it in neutral. Then came several minutes of pushing and grunting. I didn’t expect the struggle. Dual sport bikes come in all sizes. A TW200 is about the smallest, lightest of the breed and yet it was still a lot of work to push it out of that quagmire. Perhaps, the mud was just too deep, or perhaps the water was an issue, or maybe my balance was a mess? All I know is I got some aerobic exercise out of the situation. If I’d purchased a bigger heavier bike like a BMW I’d probably have had to do something with ropes and pulleys.
It was surely no more than 5-10 minutes before the bike and I emerged. It felt like an hour.
Once on dry land, I set it on its kickstand and would’ve collapsed on the dirt next to it to rest…except ice water was still flowing off my back and down the crack of my ass and I didn’t think lying flat would help.
Yes, I said it. “Ice water flowing down the crack of my ass”. There are high points in life and this wasn’t one of them. What sucked is the predictability of it all. Aside from me, who had played his role in this little tragedy like a predestined automaton, who is surprised? I’d been like the character in every horror movie that wanders off alone to explore the creepy basement. What a doofus!
But it certainly had been a dramatic um… sinking. Is that not why I was there? Now I had an adventure on my hands! I’d stupidly created a true shitstorm out of a chilly spring afternoon. I was in a situation which held my complete attention. Is that not the true measure of life? In a world where everyone was fretting over masks and Governor’s proclamations and edicts about barbers and businesses, I had a clearer and more important situation to handle… I’d just ridden my bike to the bottom of a pond. Also, I was definitely an idiot. World. Class. Idiot!
I could stop now but there’s more…
Oh shit!! Well, you are not dead, since you ARE writing….
You figured out the surprise ending… I lived!
Logging in that area? Sounds like you hit a skidded rut. Some log skidded have tires 8′ tall and 4′ wide. If the skidded is articulated, most are, it can leave rugs ten to fifteen feet wide and six feet deep. Even larger if the area is subject to repeated skidded trips. I have seen ATV’s completely submerged trying to cross one. They are worse than beaver ponds!
Hope you changed oil, fuel and filters several times after you got home to save your engine. What fun!
So other than that – how was the ride ?
Damn, that is quite a ‘trial by fire’. I’m sure this taught you a lesson learned long ago by many off road riders – CHECK THE TRAIL BEFORE YOU COMMIT. I’m sure most of the year, that same trail is dry, you just arrived at the wrong time.
A couple of weeks from now, you will begin to the see the humor in it. I don’t speak as a rider, but as the husband of one, a rider of a street bike. That one who broke her ankle in a road motorcycle accident and is currently the resident pissed off Momma Bear at home, unable to do a lot of tasks. Which means Dad’s job increases substantially. She found out too late that with riding should come abundant caution. She started off with an offroad bike, but became scared of road hazards that cropped up. Figured at least the pavement was smooth, but did not consider it is also very hard, especially when landing on it. Major Owies can and do happen. Even through this, and a surgery to re-attach ankel (pins and screws), Wife swears she will ride again.
Other than some bike damage, you came out unscathed other than freezing your Kachungas off at the time. Learn a lesson and you will come out okay.
Maybe you need one of these mounted on that whoop-de-do front rack…
https://www.midwayusa.com/product/1022242325?pid=193412
Very subtle today, aren’t we beaner49???
I probably needed a life raft instead.
Of course all that wouldn’t have been an adventure and worthy a post (essay?) if you had an……Argo!
Oh man, the first few minutes after I sunk my motorcycle I had many many thought about Argos and how a fool like me needed one. They’re just so slow and expensive.