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Lola and I woke up at 3:00am on Saturday morning. I gave Cyndi a kiss and was out the door. Back home I loaded up the KTM and all my dirty gear. One nice thing about racing, is packing for any moto-trip becomes second nature. I almost always pack everything I’d need to tear the bike apart, and put it all together. I never want to be miss a minute of riding because I forgot the right tool. By 5:00am I was cruising down I-84 to meet up with my uncle Ed and cousin Roger for a day of moto. (For those that don’t know, my uncle Ed is responsible for getting me back into dirtbiking. after a six year hiatus)

Several traffic delays later, and I arrived very late at 11:30am. I was too excited to be tired. I’ve never been on a motocross track, and any time myself and the big Austrian boat-anchor have ever gotten airborne, was usually by accident. When we arrived at the track, Ed and roger informed me that it was completely packed. Thankfully the intermediate track we had slated ourselves to ride wasn’t busy. The first few laps around, I followed Ed and just got dusted. It was all I could do to keep him in sight, and the more I tried to go fast, the more mistakes I made. The bike felt like I was riding on stones and was jarring my fillings loose. Got back into the pits and checked the tire pressure. 35psi. Whoops! I asked what Ed was running and set mine to that.

The next time out the bike felt better, but I was still loosing Ed around every corner. He’d stick his leg out like a flat tracker and just pin the throttle around turns roosting dirt. I tried to emulate this, but the bike just kept sliding out from under me. The only way I could keep him in sight was to try and bounce off the berms with as much power as I could get to the ground. I would gain on him through some of the jumps, only to come to a corner and watch him take off. I was expecting this. Ed is very reserved about his talents, but the pictures of days gone by tell the truth. (See picture right. Hardcore dudes ride in vests and glorified football helmets.).

The third session out, Ed and I were completely feeding off eachother. Breathing down my neck around every corner, he was back there pushing me faster and faster. I made mistakes and he’d blow by me. I’d follow his line through the dirt and try to dip back in to get past him, only for the door the close again. Its a god-damned blast riding with someone who’s right at the same skill level as you. Ed and I are both pretty competitive people, so we feed off eachother. Unfortunately while he was chasing me, he went over a berm and bashed up his knee pretty good. It looked damn painful, but after a quick icing he was right back out there chasing me down. He said I got faster, but I know how much it sucks riding with a injury. Still we pushed eachother faster and faster around the track.

We rode until they chased us off the track. Packed up and headed back to go eat dinner with Ray. Ray bought my basket-case YZ250 that I blew up shortly after I got it. (See a trend yet?). Ray and his wife day really rolled out the red carpet. I wasn’t there for more than two minutes before I had a cold brew in my hand and was talking garage with Ed and Ray. Burgers, dogs, chicken, salad and everything you could want. A warm fire pit on a cool autumn night with good friends and family doesn’t get any better. Thanks for a great time Ed, Sara, Ray, Day and both your families. I can’t wait to come back, but this time Ray, lets get your whip running!

Last day of riding, and we finally figure it out. Go to bed early, and get up early! We we’re all suited up and ready for the ride by 8:00am today. The temperatures we’re still nice and cool, the mist was still burning off the valleys of the mountians. Zipping through the trails felt so much more refreshing than the blistering heat during the day.

We plotted out a route taking us on trails we had still yet to ride. Halfway through a quick pace with Glenn, I notice that the front end of my bike is really dancing around quite a bit. I can’t seem to take a corner without it washing. A look to the front tire answers my fears. Another fc*king flat! Unfortunately, this time I was 20 miles into the woods. No spare. No tire irons. Kristie’s ATV had a few cans of fix-a-flat in it, so we gave it a shot. The hole in the tube was big enough that it all just blew around into the tire and wheel. Glenn took off down a dirt road looking for a way into town, and I started pushing. Just as I had convinced myself that the last day of my vacation was going to be spent pushing a 300lb orange monstrosity through the vicious terrain I had just ridden through, Glenn returned with good news.
The dirt-road led into “town”. I say town, because it literally came out on a small one-lane blacktop road right near a trailer park. Glenn and Kristie went back to go get the truck to pick me up, as I started pushing the bike down the much friendlier dirt-road. I got to the end, put the bike on the side-stand and leaned up against the guardrail. Gave me time to reflect on why the hell I was riding through deliverance without a spare tube or a patch kit.

The flat killed the day, and we all knew it. I got back and solemnly started packing up. Vacation was over. A small glacier of work was surely waiting for me at work, and a 13 hour return drive was how I was going to spend my Saturday. But I somehow managed to make it through the entire week long moto-vacation without:

• My motor blowing up
• Crashing! (believe it or not!)
• Puking
• Visits to the hospital

What a trip. I need to find a job that involves dirtbiking to remote area’s to work on UNIX servers. If such a thing exists.

Today I rode the best trail I have ever ridden. Trail 31 was as good as they come. Insane uphill switchbacks with loose dirt and rocks to make it sketchy on the climb, followed by curving hard-packed sections already covered in fallen leaves to even out the fear-induced adrenaline rush. I can only relate it to riding through a minefield at a incredible rate of speed. Sometimes you zip right through a section without so much as a pebble in your way. Other times the leaves masquerade large oddly shaped rocks as small jumps that you whack the throttle to take you airborne, but instead rock your fillings loose and send you and your steed bouncing around the trail, flirting with the saplings at The Edge.

Todays ride covered a few new trails, but many trails we have ridden every day we’ve been here. Tomorrows our last day for riding, and Glenn and I have decided to try the singletrack. A few beers may have convinced both of us to try it, but its too late now. We’re here, we might as well try to hurt ourselves before we leave.

While cooking tonight, we all met a little boy who came over to talk bikes with us. Turns out the kid is a racer as well, and rides a KTM 65 senior in Ohio. He was amazingly polite and well spoken for his age, and it was really pretty interesting to talk to him about racing. Maybe in a few years I’ll see you on the supermoto circuit James? God, I hope not. It would strike a deafening blow to my self esteem to see a kid no taller than my waist go sliding by me on the outside.

Tomorrows the last day. The whole trip went by so fast, it feels like it was only for a weekend.

I can’t remember the last time I rode two days, back to back for as long as I have these past two days, but I think it was over two years ago. I woke up completely whooped, barely able to hold my coffee mug. I was exhausted enough to simply fall back asleep after downing two cups of coffee (a vein attempt to wake up). Glenn blew out a couple trailer tires on the way down, so he was going into town to get the situation taken care of. The general concensus, was that today would be a no-ride day.

As the temperature crept up during the day, my motivation to get moving around to do something, anything waned. I ended up getting hooked on a book and reading for a couple hours. When I walked outside again around 3:00pm, the temperature was just starting to drop a bit. By 4:00pm, it was relatively cool, and the harsh sun was hiding behind clouds. Against my better judgement I started suiting up. I drove all the way down here to ride, I simply couldn’t justify a day where I wasn’t zipping along on two wheels.

I took a glance at the map and roughed out a quick little loop of some trails, filled up the camelback and took off. I didn’t see anyone on the trails, and a light breeze kept me cool as I rode through clearings. Lofting off waterbars, standing up on the pegs carving the bike through the mountians. Everything felt there. A friend describes these motorcycling moments as “stud experiances”, where everything clicks and you truely feel at one with the machine. I decided to try a few of the “black” trails. Why I chose the day I was riding alone to ride the most difficult trails, I’ll never fully know, but without even a hint of hesitation, I turned off on trail 35 and started what would ultimately end my days adventure.

Trail 35 started out pretty tame, and then steepened quickly into a long uphill strewed with loose dirt and rocks. Every time I tried to wring a little more throttle out of the machine, the rear end would spin up and dance around, flirting with the steep dropoffs on both sides. After a twenty-minute climb up the trail, I reached the top. The trail once again went completely tame as it rolled over the spine of the mountian. Just as I was getting comfortable, the trail turned left and disappeared. Without knowing it, I rolled past the point of no return into the most trechorous downhill I’ve done. Filled with bowling-ball sized loose rocks and dirt, the whole ride down was a constantly-changing balance of front brakes and traction. The trail switchbacked on me suddenly, no time to make it nice, and I locked up the rear wheel, using it as a anchor to slow myself down enough to actually make the turn. It was right then that I realized that the pitch of the hill was so steep, that the only way myself and my motorcycle we’re going to stop, was if we we’re both lying on the ground.

The trail wound down the backside of the mountian. I came around another switchback onto another pant-crapping descent, only to find a tree over the trail. Too steep to stop, going to fast to try and pop up the front wheel, I gritted my teeth and made a “Ehhhhhhh!” sound as I bounced over the log. I made one more switchback, and *poof*. Back onto green trails and level ground. I took a break and drank half my camelback. Whoo! I was exhausted, but so much adrenaline was pumping through my system, I couldn’t sit still.

I started back home feeling pretty content with myself. I went out alone, and still managed to come back in one peice. I suited back up and ripped off back to the cabin. Halfway back, I noticed that the rear end was sliding out around even the slightest of corners. My heart sunk. Flat. I looked back to see the bike riding on the rim. #*@! Thankfully, I was less than a mile from home, so I didn’t have to push it too far. I took the wheel off and ran down to Gilbert ATV, and they put a heavy-duty tube in for me. (Hey, I’m on vacation, I’m not changing tubes!).

I could feel yesterdays ride the moment I woke up. Everywhere. I must be getting old, as I don’t remember ever being this wrecked after a ride. The weather down here is on par with what I expected. Nice and cool during the night and morning, but beastly hot during the day. Getting a late start not only meant less riding time, but 100 degree temperatures. Its bearable if your moving, but the moment you stop to wait for everyone to catch up a deathly sick wave of humidity hits you. Instantly soaked in sweat with that general “overheating” feeling.

We got a late start, and decided to ride back through the trails into the town of Mann. (map here). We took some more blue trails, and did a few other trails in reverse, which was just as exciting. Many of the blue-trails traverse up and down some pretty intense hills. The trails are all literally cut into the side of the mountain’s. This meant that crashing to one side of the trail would send you into a wall of dirt and rock, and the other avenue sent you down an exciting 100-200′ drop straight over the edge. At first it was unnerving bouncing around the trails, one loose rock away from a plunge below, but I found the less I worried about it, the smoother the ride was.

The switchbacks up hills (pictured above) we’re perfectly placed, complete with berms you could bounce off of. Some of the hills we’re impressively steep, and it was a requirement to maintain speed through the turns on a bike to actually get to the top. Most of the berms we’re high enough that I didn’t even have to let off the throttle. Riding trails 41 and 42 backwards and forwards was my second favorite memory of the day. (My first being our stop at Wendy’s for food. Burgers taste so much better than dust and dirt). Glenn and I would switch leadership positions on every new trail, and it was pretty exciting to chase him up the hills, down steep pitches and around the tight switchbacks.

Trail 10 (the trail into the town of Man) was also lots of fun, as it had a number of altitude changes and some pretty nice straight sections with a varied assortment of waterbars that would send you sailing through the air. I was in the lead for this trail, and got a little too cocky with my sailing skills, and gave a little too much throttle over a waterbar before I could see over the top of it. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the trail turned right, immediately after the water bar. I jammed the brakes and barely managed to keep things together and came to a complete stop at The Edge. The first pant-crapper experience of my vacation.

We got back to our cabins faster than we had anticipated, having only done 30 miles compared to yesterdays 70. Glenn and I decided to go out for a (as Cliff would say) ’spirited’ rip through a few blue trails, and a black trail. We turned our stupid switch on and started going much too fast through a few trails. We turned the stupid switch off when Glenn skated across a mud-covered rock sideways and laid it down, and took it easy through the rest of the ride. The black trail we did seemed about on par with a blue trail. But we did a small one, and the rest of them are really squiggly…

We managed to glimpse at some of the singletrack too. My mouth stayed agape for a good minute or two just looking up at the width, and the serious incline that the track was on. I know my skills, and looking at just the entrance to the trail, I realized I would be in for a rough ride. I found some pictures of the singletrack here, and here. Steep, and not a lot of room for error.

New York strip steaks and blue moon for dinner. Of course there was the view….

The thirteen hour drive down was almost worth it, solely for the view out the front the cabin every morning. Slugging down coffee while watching the mist burn off the valleys below… yea, this is vacation. (Photo credits to Glenn)

Finally got suited up and ready to ride by noon, and oh how sweet it was to walk out of the cabin, and ride right onto the trails. I recently started riding with a camelback filled with water and tools and for the first half-hour of the ride I found myself not leaning forward enough and lofting the front wheel when it was least opportune (such as heading into a turn without any way to steer). The green trails we’re pretty wide and open, but due to high quad traffic, it was pretty whooped out. The handful of blue trails we’re a little more aggressive, but not too overwhelming.

At one point we thought we had lost Glenn (who thought he lost us) in the sprawling 115 miles of trails. Concerned that Glenn had gone over “The Edge” (I’ll discuss that later), I doubled back at a race pace looking for him. Thirty dirty, sweating miles later everyone met up, and continued on our way.

Seventy miles total for the first day, and I could barely get my boots off. Raccoon dirt eyes, and that gritty taste in your mouth from a full day of swallowing dust. Damn good start.

Yesterday I went for a couple hour dirty ride after work at Thomaston Dam. We suit up, warm up the bikes, and take off. Glenn decides he wants to try some “new” trails first. I silently groan to myself and whimper a little bit. I haven’t been on a bike in 2 and a half weeks. Sitting on my ass hasn’t done much for my physique, and I know this is going to hurt.

After about 5 miles of some of the nastiest rutted, rooted, loose-rock terrain you have ever seen we stopped at a trail head. I was already exhausted. These are the types of trails where you HAVE to go fast to get over and through things. Playing it safe and idling through simply means that you’ll get stuck, end up pushing your bike or crash. I always prefer to take some simple trails first, and get re-reacquainted with bike before I tackle some gnarly shit. Riding a dirtbike is having sex. (No, I don’t put things in the tailpipe that don’t belong there). You have to start off slow, and build up to the crescendo of bombing through trails as one.

Towards the end of the ride, Glenn and I did the swinger thing and exchanged bikes. I hopped off my rocketship, and got onto his Honda 250X. First thing I notice about this bike, is how insanely wide it is. The front shrouds scoop out and so far forward I can easily see why he’s gone through three radiator guards and a radiator. Its a damn hazard. The suspension on the bike feels great, but after whooping the 520 all day, the 250X motor feels like someone swapped out my Ferrari with a Geo metro. Great for tight technical trails, but anytime things open up there is a lot of shifting and wringing of the neck involved to get up to speed.

Glenn’s thoughts on the 520SX? “The power is very managable, and it pulls like nothing I’ve ever ridden! If I made a mistake in that tight stuff on the throttle, I’d be in a different zip code though. “

Grand Total for the day: 3 low-speed stalls/tipovers, 2 “oh shit I’m going to die” moments, and one accidental mud roosting.

For the first time in a number of years, my hosting provider had an issue. My server went down at 9:00pm on Tuesday, and didn’t come back up until around noon on Thursday. I have a mail-spooling service for any situations like this that may arise. So if you’ve sent any email, I’ll get to it soon. The spool server is still dumping some email. Sorry for the outage!

Went dirt biking yesterday with some folks I work with, in what seems now to be a weekly ritual. Some people mow their lawns, and some people do their best to avoid crashing into trees. I harbor no ill-will to any landscaping type in search of the perfect lawn. Personally, I consider my deficiencies in landscaping a sure sign that I belong in the Southwestern Desert, where it is perfectly acceptable to fill your front yard with low-maintenance rocks.

The ride was good. I recently overhauled a friends bike, and it was emotionally fulfilling to see his reaction to riding a bike that doesn’t feel like its going to explode. Unfortunately, Glenn hasn’t had very good luck in the trails recently. A weekend ago, he put a small tree through the radiator of his brand new 250X, and yesterday he managed to get his 230F sideways in the air over a wet-log and come crashing down in a mud puddle. We spent the first 25 minutes of the ride bending his handlebars back. He got it so they we’re ridable again, and we continued on. The ride was fun, yet uneventful after that.

I’ve been meddling with the jetting on the 520SX. On low-speed crawly stuff, I can feel the heat pouring out of the motor, and a couple times, the coolant has boiled over. When the motor is running hot, all that hot air from going through the radiators flows right onto your crotch. I can’t speak for any womans opinion on the matter, but I can assure you, that much hot air on your unit is not comfortable. I swapped out the 170 main jet with a 180 from my Husqvarna, and it seems much better. I can’t be sure its 100% perfect, but my unit is no longer complaining.

Rode the woods of Terryville yesterday with Glenn, and Clinton. Clinton lives in MA, and made the two-hour drive to our little corner of CT just to ride his Husqvarna TE250 with us.

The cool, dry weather we’ve been having had dried out a number of the trails nicely, so there wasn’t as much mud to deal with. With Glenn out front leading the way on his new pimped-out 250X, Clinton and I followed. Everyone managed to dump it at least once. I was the first casualty, as following Clinton down a washed out section of trails, I grabbed a handful of brembo when there was no traction to be had. The bars went to the lock, and with arms out and what had to be a hilarious look on my face, I tumbled down the embankment. Glenn had a balance issue in the mud, and like the seasoned veteran he is, managed to walk right off the bike. (The running joke is that Glenn never crashes, and its true. He has yet to end up on the ground!). Clinton hit some wet logs, sans bark and lost the front at low speed.

20-something miles in the woods, and three hours later, everyone was beat. But at least we didn’t have to drive two hours home. Burgers with Glenn & Kristie, and a surprise visit by Cyndi on her new scooter rounded off a pretty damn good weekend.

Finally got the KTM sorted. New camshaft bearings, a new cam-wheel, water pump seals and carrier, new short oil screen (after I drilled through the old one). Whew. I forgot how much constant work dirt bikes are. Ride it for two hours, and then spend four getting it ready for the next ride.

Overall, I must say I’m impressed with the KTM. Those Austrians really know how to put a nice bike together. Some interesting things I’ve noticed (which are different than the majority of racing four-stroke dirtbikes today):

• The rear swingarm doesn’t have a linkage, just a direct push to the shock. Since I remember what happens when bearings are neglected, I make a point of lubing things up after every other ride.
• The valve-train is a roller-rocker design, which I havn’t seen much on bikes.
• Valve adjustments are a snap. Hand-in-hand with the roller-rocker valvetrain, comes locknuts and adjusters. No shims needed
• KTM’s seem to have the most parts interchangeability out of any motorcycle manufacturer I’ve ever heard of. Makes getting new parts pretty easy.
• There is a top dead center bolt which threads into the front of the case, and locks into a machined grove on the crankshaft, locking the motor in TDC. VERY nice to have when doing top-end work!

Its a very nice motorcycle. Handles great, and has more power than I could ever use effectively. Most of the time, I find myself either holding on for dear life. The thought of putting in a throttle stop for tight woods riding has crossed my mind.