Trip report. EasTex45. A new Misadventure!
I have more pictures and even videos on my real camera, but that camera is still attached to my scooter being stored at undisclosed location. (I’m hiding it from my wife, so that she doesn’t sell it). So, my report of the EasTex45 event is limited to the pictures I had on my iPhone. When I get the rest of the pictures, I will update this report. So, for now – on with the EasTex45 trip report.
Oh, I bet you thought is was EasTex 450 didn’t you. Well, that was the original plan, but at best I estimate that I only completed about 45 miles before I “bit the dust”, so for me anyway, I have renamed the event to EasTex45.
I head out Thursday about mid-morning in no particular hurry so I kept the speed under 95. As I was passing through the town of Marques it occurred to me I had a friend (Hardy Baker) that lived there so I stopped for a visit and to bum a free cup of coffee. Hardy is currently in the process of expanding his pond to be the size of Lake Superior, so we spent a short while reviewing his project. I didn’t think about taking any pictures until we were back at his house, so this is the best I got.
After some rains, this thing will fill up and will be big enough to float battleships.
In route to the first night campsite, I go through Huntsville, TX and stop to visit the Texas Prison Museum.
This monument was placed to honor 150 years of corrections in Texas. I did not ask what they did before that. Seemed to me to be an odd monument or shall we say an odd thing to honor, but oh well.
The museum
And then inside you get to view “Old Sparky”
This is not a replica. This was actually in production. Very creepy.
Made it to the campsite (Lake Livingston State Park). I was the first one to arrive, followed by a friend of Hap’s (Carl aka:WhiskySmith), and then Hap Hazard himself. Camp site next to us was another guy on a GS 850 named James who joined us for the evening of merriment and lie swapping by the campfire. Much later, another friend also named James (aka: JBay) joined us.
See us having a nice time by the campfire.
OK, so an iPhone does not have a flash. Much better pictures on my real camera still attached to my bike that is still deep in the piney woods of east Texas.
We meet the next morning in Moscow to register for the event. No not that Moscow. Moscow, Texas at Carter’s General Store.
My suspicions that this would primarily be made up of younger men on true dirt bikes was confirmed.
Afterwards, the ride begins. We tear down the road at a spirited pace for about 100 yards and then the route begins to go to ****. To say we were on a dirt road would not be fair. I only wish there was some dirt. It was all sand, the worst enemy of a heavy bike like a GS. It starts out to be a few inches of sand and quickly progresses to be over a foot deep in sand. I’m serious! This was deep deep sand.
Not just the old folks or those on heavy bikes, everyone was having trouble. Lots of spills. I was entraining myself by following Hap so that I could watch all of his spills.
But, not me. I’m staying upright. OK, so I’m dog paddling through the deep sand, but I maintaining an upright position. **** I’m good (I tell myself).
After one bad area a fellow rider spilled and/or stalled his bike and could not get it started again. Some sort of electrical issue. There were about 9 of us in this group providing about 9 different opinions as to what was wrong.
No one complained about waiting around trying to get his bike going. We were all exhausted and any excuse not to ride through the sand pits was fine by us. We all needed a good rest.
Rest time over, his bike is repaired (well at least started) and off we go again. Hap continues to go through a series of drops. I think I count 6 drops but he claims it was only 4. I don’t know for sure. So let’s say “at least 4”. Carl drops at least once as does James. But, so far, I’m doing OK. So far …… Famious last words. One should never gloat. Shame on me, 'what goes around comes around'.
Another Hap Hazard spill.
At first Hap was jumping up and grabbing hold of his bike and lifting it up. By the 3rd or 4th time, he would just wait until someone came to help because he was too exhausted. All the maneuvering through the sand is hard work. We are all so tired we could barley stay upright.
After a while we finally hit gravel and were to the point of celebration. But then we hit sand again, I hit a grove in deep sand and …
and then ...
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A pause to go back a bit.
After my last incident I had decided I was going to be better protected this time. I was wearing something called a ballistic vest. This vest incorporates a chest protector, back shield, forearm and elbow protection. Additionally I wore shin and knee protection.
Hap said I looked like a big beetle but I chose to think of it as the “Iron Man” look. So EVERYTHING was protected. EVERY limb is protected right? No way can I get hurt.
Umm, oh let’s talk ankles a bit. Because of my very wide feet, I am unable to buy proper dual sport boots and therefore only wear ¾ regular riding boots. So I had considered some ridged ankle braces, but that would be $100 for a pair and I decided not to bother with it. I have since reconsidered.
Also the night before around the campfire we had a discussion concerning the pro’s and cons of the large metal boxes most GS’s sport. Some feel that the boxes should be removed for serious dirt because of the potential of getting you foot caught underneath them. But then others say that the boxes help provide some protection and besides keeping the bike from laying completely on it’s side thus easer to pick up after a spill. I decided on the latter. That option too needs to be reconsidered.
Now with that background, back at the ranch…
I hit a rut in the sand that was causing me to spill on the left side, I over compensated to the right and went down on the right side. My right foot got caught under the side box holding my foot while I continued to fall.
Ouch!! I screamed like a little girl. Boy that hurt! There were several other riders there and they helped get me to the side under the shade.
My riding for today was over. Called for help and a state trouper showed up. Before he even asked how I was, etc. the first thing he was asking all of us. “What are you guys doing riding motorcycles on a road like this?”, “Are you lost?”. He had trouble comprehending that we were doing this on purpose. He asked where we were heading and when we told him he did not understand why we were not taking the shorter route that was pavement. That dialog went on for a while and he was convinced that we were pretty dumb for trying to ride through deep sand on a motorcycle. Finally I asked if he would take me to the nearest town and he refused because of liability and that the only thing he would do would be call an ambulance. My choices were to walk out (actually hop out dragging one foot behind me), ride out (ouch), site by the side of the road or ride in an ambulance.
He explained that if I had medical coverage on my bike (which I do), that they would pay for the ambulance. So my chauffeured limousine arrives soon with lights a-flashing.
Hap had great joy in taking this picture and I’m sure it has already been shared with everyone.
By this time, I am no longer in pain (as long and I don’t try to walk) and the ambulance ride was uneventful. I have never gotted to ride in an ambulance before. Now that I have gotten that over, perhaps I won’t ever need to ride in an ambulance again.
They take be to the hospital and after xrays, poking and prodding it is determined that nothing is broken but I have suffered a major sprain with some ligament damage but ligaments do not appear to be torn. So they wrap me up in this cute brace and send me on my way.
I had called my youngest son (Brian) that lives in Austin and asked him to come get me and bring me home. Brain (bless his heart), drives like a little old lady and finally gets there about 8ish. We think it would be fun to drive out to the campsite of the event and party with the boys. It would be about 10 pm by time we got there and he was thinking that the party would be in full swing by then. I explain that as hard as the ride was today, I seriously doubted that anyone would still be up, much less partying. So we head home. We find what looks to be a fun place to eat, party and visit in Hunstville. We park and after about 3 steps, the vicadin they gave me at the hospital has worn off and I am not up to going into the restaurant. So, we find a motel, put ice on the old man’s foot and good night.
Next morning, Brian drags the old guy out to his car and we proceed to Austin. We stop in Hutto for their famous apple pie.
We meet up with one VERY angry wife in Austin and I am transferred to her loving care for the remaining trip to Valley Mills. Did I mention that she was angry with me. I mean VERY angry.
Hap found someone that lives near where I spilled and they agreed to store my bike until I can come back and get it. I have wisely not told my wife where the bike is because she is making a lot of noise about selling the **** thing.
Well that’s my story. Sure seems lately that all my adventures turn out to be misadventures. There is another event in a few weeks over the halloween weekend that I had already registered for. I don’t know yet if I will be able to make it.
OH, BTW: I ordered those rigid ankle braces today. Hoping for a next time.
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. Good thing though, because if it had been on when I spilled it would have picked up my screaming and crying.