Well and truly stuck, but this is really a story about the kindness of strangers.
It happens that I commute between Las Vegas and Ridgecrest, CA via Death Valley about once a week. I’m always working or have commitments to get to so never get to explore the dirt roads off Hwy 178 through the Searles and Panamint valleys. Recently on this road, just about at this turn off, a lady flagged me down. She was quite lost and heading in the wrong direction. Her car wouldn’t go more than 40-mph and I was impatient, but I kept stopping and waiting for her to catch up to escort her to her turn-off. Figured it was my good deed for the day.
Searles Valley map
Finally with a free weekend in Ridgecrest I decided to check out one of the roads north of Trona. Mostly I would say the Super Tenere isn’t the ideal vehicle for such terrain, and since I was travelling alone as always decided to not tackle anything too challenging.
Road P27 to Great Falls Basin
The road to Great Falls Basin on the northwestern edge of Searles Valley is a sandy 2-track with a mild grade, not rough or technical. I was about 10-minutes in, going along just fine when I got a bit off track and bogged in the sand. Grainy beach type sand, but dry. At first I was happy to have kept it upright, so thought I’ll just paddle-foot out and keep going. But I started to dig in so I stopped, dropped the kickstand and took stock of the situation. I figured if I just dug a track out in front of the wheels I could motor on.
stuck 1
Under the loose top layer, the sand was packed and crusty so I couldn’t dig too deep. Turns out the Mitas E07 digs a fine hole, not forward or backward, just straight down. Clearly this called for more concerted excavation. I scrounged around a found a small chunk of wood to use as shovel/scraper and moved a bunch more sand. Once again the rear tire dug straight down. Mind you, I wasn’t dumping the clutch and hammering the throttle. On the contrary, I was feathering lightly trying to minimize spin, even aired down my rear tire. At this point the kickstand was useless, skidplate holding the bike upright. I thought about trying to tip it over and drag it out, but the rear tire was buried to the axle and there was a lot of sand piled next to the bike. I even had a bike lift jack, which I rarely carry but decided to this time. Thing is, this tool is designed upright a tipped bike, not lift it out of a hole. I tried but all I could manage was to exercise the suspension.
stuck 2
One more round of digging with hopes that I could get some rocks underneath for traction. Just too deep. To my credit, I didn’t panic or injure myself, but once I accepted the futility of the effort and with cold, windy, wet weather coming in, I decided it was time to hike out. I hated to leave my bike, but it was either one of us stuck or both of us stuck. So I gathered my important things and took foot.
stuck 3
Only 3-4 miles, downhill to the highway. I was really hoping for a miracle of a winch-equipped 4-wheeler, lots of “Jeeper” types on this road. Surely one would take pity on a guy in a motorcycle suit, helmet in hand on a lonely road. I ignored the cars and tried to wave down a couple of suitable looking vehicles. No such luck. Conditions were pressing my wait time so I decided to just hitch a ride and organize a return.
A gentleman in a rough-looking pickup truck stopped. Turns out he was a local, a dirt biker, and knows the area well. He was heading into Trona for gas. I insisted to buy him a tank for his kindness. He offered to help. We stopped at his buddy’s house for some straps and returned to the scene of the debacle. The sand was soft and deep there. So while he was airing down his tires (a trick I’d already tried), I scoped out the straps. Not looking good. No sooner than my hopes began to fade, a posse of 4-wheelers show up, all locals, everyone knows each other…but me. Sure enough, one guy with a Jeep has a winch and a tow strap and seems more than happy to put it to use. Tow strap loops around the foot pegs and five minutes later I was free. I didn’t know them, they didn’t know me, and without reservation, they just helped.
on the winch
Free from the hole
Needless to say, my day didn’t go as planned. I wasn’t looking for adventure, just a ride to a new place. I’m fond of saying – you can plan a trip but you can’t plan an adventure. Adventures tend to be how you deal with things unplanned. I can’t say that it was fun, but I suspect it will be indelible in a positive way. The kindness of strangers – may I never underestimate it and may I continue to pay it forward.
It happens that I commute between Las Vegas and Ridgecrest, CA via Death Valley about once a week. I’m always working or have commitments to get to so never get to explore the dirt roads off Hwy 178 through the Searles and Panamint valleys. Recently on this road, just about at this turn off, a lady flagged me down. She was quite lost and heading in the wrong direction. Her car wouldn’t go more than 40-mph and I was impatient, but I kept stopping and waiting for her to catch up to escort her to her turn-off. Figured it was my good deed for the day.
Searles Valley map
Finally with a free weekend in Ridgecrest I decided to check out one of the roads north of Trona. Mostly I would say the Super Tenere isn’t the ideal vehicle for such terrain, and since I was travelling alone as always decided to not tackle anything too challenging.
Road P27 to Great Falls Basin
The road to Great Falls Basin on the northwestern edge of Searles Valley is a sandy 2-track with a mild grade, not rough or technical. I was about 10-minutes in, going along just fine when I got a bit off track and bogged in the sand. Grainy beach type sand, but dry. At first I was happy to have kept it upright, so thought I’ll just paddle-foot out and keep going. But I started to dig in so I stopped, dropped the kickstand and took stock of the situation. I figured if I just dug a track out in front of the wheels I could motor on.
stuck 1
Under the loose top layer, the sand was packed and crusty so I couldn’t dig too deep. Turns out the Mitas E07 digs a fine hole, not forward or backward, just straight down. Clearly this called for more concerted excavation. I scrounged around a found a small chunk of wood to use as shovel/scraper and moved a bunch more sand. Once again the rear tire dug straight down. Mind you, I wasn’t dumping the clutch and hammering the throttle. On the contrary, I was feathering lightly trying to minimize spin, even aired down my rear tire. At this point the kickstand was useless, skidplate holding the bike upright. I thought about trying to tip it over and drag it out, but the rear tire was buried to the axle and there was a lot of sand piled next to the bike. I even had a bike lift jack, which I rarely carry but decided to this time. Thing is, this tool is designed upright a tipped bike, not lift it out of a hole. I tried but all I could manage was to exercise the suspension.
stuck 2
One more round of digging with hopes that I could get some rocks underneath for traction. Just too deep. To my credit, I didn’t panic or injure myself, but once I accepted the futility of the effort and with cold, windy, wet weather coming in, I decided it was time to hike out. I hated to leave my bike, but it was either one of us stuck or both of us stuck. So I gathered my important things and took foot.
stuck 3
Only 3-4 miles, downhill to the highway. I was really hoping for a miracle of a winch-equipped 4-wheeler, lots of “Jeeper” types on this road. Surely one would take pity on a guy in a motorcycle suit, helmet in hand on a lonely road. I ignored the cars and tried to wave down a couple of suitable looking vehicles. No such luck. Conditions were pressing my wait time so I decided to just hitch a ride and organize a return.
A gentleman in a rough-looking pickup truck stopped. Turns out he was a local, a dirt biker, and knows the area well. He was heading into Trona for gas. I insisted to buy him a tank for his kindness. He offered to help. We stopped at his buddy’s house for some straps and returned to the scene of the debacle. The sand was soft and deep there. So while he was airing down his tires (a trick I’d already tried), I scoped out the straps. Not looking good. No sooner than my hopes began to fade, a posse of 4-wheelers show up, all locals, everyone knows each other…but me. Sure enough, one guy with a Jeep has a winch and a tow strap and seems more than happy to put it to use. Tow strap loops around the foot pegs and five minutes later I was free. I didn’t know them, they didn’t know me, and without reservation, they just helped.
on the winch
Free from the hole
Needless to say, my day didn’t go as planned. I wasn’t looking for adventure, just a ride to a new place. I’m fond of saying – you can plan a trip but you can’t plan an adventure. Adventures tend to be how you deal with things unplanned. I can’t say that it was fun, but I suspect it will be indelible in a positive way. The kindness of strangers – may I never underestimate it and may I continue to pay it forward.
