Mountain Biking, Medical Crises, More Self-Abuse

[elfs]

Elf, The Full Package.

Omaha made a fire while I scrambled the eggs, and soon we were toasting English muffins and having breakfast sandwiches (ugh, did you know those things were invented by McDonalds? At least the ones you make yourself are tastier and better).

Don't believe the photograph. Those pants make everything look bigger.

We forgot so many things. We forgot bicycle pumps! The camera tripod, spare shoes, towels, the toasting grill. Contraceptives, not that we could have used them with our bruised and battered adult bits. We remembered food, shelter, bedding, medicines.

The campsite is full of RVs sporting satellite antennaes and other wealthy people pretending to commune with nature. Scattered among them, though, are some ordinary families, with tents and sleeping bags and campfires required for heat and cooking. Lots of kids on bicycles out here, too. I saw one group go by and wondered what kind of example Dad was setting because he made the kids wear helmets but he didn't have one on himself. The creek that runs through the campsite looks groomed, too tame to be natural, with little step-down dams of larger rocks at regular intervals as it makes its way down to the Hood Canal. There are way too many crows in the campsite, and the trash bins aren't animal safe so I guess they're not worried about predators here.

Omaha and I packed up and drove out to Spillman Camp (actually, the Oak Patch intersection, as Spillman Camp proper requires a reservation), which is a popular ORV (Off Road Vehicle) attraction. While we were unpacking, we saw a lot of 4-wheel ATV's (All Terrain Vehicls) puttering about, including one brood with three children-- everyone had their own ATV, and "Mama" was just about the white trashiest thing I've seen or heard in a long time. Her little boy, about ten or so, had his own gas-powered ATV and was cruising through the woods, and she was telling him that she'd ride with him later but right now "Mama's just smoking a cigarette." I mean, she had the trailer-park accent down. Straight out of central casting, that one.

We rode down Howell Lake Trail for a while until we reached the fork with something called "Randy's Water Spot Trail," which we took for a short distance, then turned off onto a trail with only an identifier: UB14. There's a trail on the map called UB Lost; this wasn't that trail, but we surely felt like it. This trail was technical, with lots of crap, lots of falls, and that momentum-robbing gravel. Parts of it were fun; I like mud, and roots (Omaha hates roots; I think she'd rather do gravel), and vicious downhill bombs. We were getting worried that we'd have to walk this trail back when, finally, it met back up with Howell Lake Trail. We decided to ride back to the intersection where we'd first seen Randy's Water Spot Trail.

Having done this half-mile of trail before, I bombed it and reached the trail marker with, I had thought, Omaha right behind me. It was a pretty easy chunk of trail-- lots of mud, but mostly downhill and no gravel or roots to speak of.

I waited for Omaha to show up. And waited. And started to get worried. I was just about to head back up the trail when I heard her coming through the trees. She stopped right next to me. "What took you so long? That was a pretty easy stretch back there."

She looked at me blankly and said, "I, that is, what I said, I mean, uh, it was..."

Oh, shit. "Did you have a seziure?"

"Little one," she said.

"Come sit down."

Omaha, recovering.

We sat about half an hour, sharing a Clif bar and waiting for her to recover. I know she'd taken her meds that morning, although she'd taken her afternoon dose the day before very late. We shared our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and she announced she was good to ride. So, we tried Randy's Water Spot. No go; the trail was brutal, with too much gravel and too sharp an uphill to get anywhere without porting the bikes.

We turned back, headed over to a road, and found another trail called "Paul's Grade." That was better, although about halfway in we found "CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER" yellow barrier tape had once been across the trail, but had also been cut recently. Omaha said the tape was down, we should go on, so we did.

This ride was fun. Not so much gravel, lots of bumps. Quite a few places to dump the bicycle, but we made it okay into the high "meadow" (actually, a clear-cut that had just started to grow back) and around the ridge, meeting up with the Randy's Water Spot Trail three-quarters down. After briefly getting lost and hitting a dead-ended trail (oh, did I mention that the batteries on my GPS had died? Yeah. Lost, we were) we finally dropped down onto the Tahuya River Trail, which took us back to the Twin Lakes sandpit, and it was a mile's ride on forest service roads back to Oak Patch. By then, I was in pain. My right shoulder had taken a hit from a fall, my calves were scratched to hell and back, and my ass was numb from all the brutality. My knee had been complaining about some vector and I was afraid I would have trouble walking, but actually no... it was better walking than riding by that point. We made it back to the car just in time for our water to run out. It was nice to sit down on a soft cushiony surface.

We refilled from the five gallon jug we'd brought, did ibuprofen and trail mix, and headed out for the ferry. The ride was fine; Omaha slept in the car most of the way. We got home and had dinner; wisely, Omaha had pre-cooked some brisket in the slow cooker two nights before and put it in the 'fridge, so we had dinner ready when we got there. A shower made me feel almost human. We went to bed at 8:45, how grown-up is that?

Comments

[antonia-tiger.livejournal.com]

I must be older than you. I'd have thought of a compass and map before a GPS...

[whatthehay.livejournal.com]

Poor Omaha! When I have a seizure, that's it for the day. An 8 hour migraine follows along with all the pain from whatever I fell on or twisted or bit. Stong lady! Hope she is well. You guys amaze me.

[elfs.livejournal.com]

Depends on what kind. Without her meds, she has full-on grand mal seizures that leave her completely incapable of doing anything for the rest of the day. She tends to sleep through it, wakes with a terrible headache, and is generally a zombie for the rest of the day.

Still, even the petites tend to leave her really zoned. The physical exercise seems to have been very good for, as she recovered very quickly and was good for the rest of the day. Although she did crash hard and sleep most of the drive home, and took almost twelve hours of sleep last night. So it just took time to catch up with her.

[lisakit.livejournal.com]

I'm glad Omaha was OK after that and that it didn't ruin her trip. It sucks how much a few moments can take out of you.

And dude, *there's* the pic you should have on your website. ;p

[kengr]

After having the batteries die on my headlight while stuill a long ways from home, I have spare batteries as a standard part of my bike kit. And since my GPS now doubles as my bike computer and takes the same batteries...

actually, I checked my GPS and the "bare" data/power cable (that big round 4 pin thing that seems standard on many models) and found that it can take anything from 5-40 VDC on that connector. since I know my headlight was available with a different mounting bracket that supplied power from a bigger set of batteries, I'm thinking of tracking one of those brackets down and building something that takes D cells or even a big 6V gell cell to power the light and the GPS.

Shirt!!!

[(Anonymous)]

My first thought was, "Damn!", immediately followed by, "I must have that shirt for my next teacher-service day!"

Joshua

Re: Shirt!!!

[elfs.livejournal.com]

http://www.pegasuspublishing.com/Knowledge-is-Power-Shirt-p-28580.html

[sierra-nevada.livejournal.com]

Just imagine if those pants were white ...