2012 East Texas Dirty Butt 450
Friday afternoon six hardy souls assembled at the Rusk Koa with the goal of riding 450 miles of East Texas roads in one grueling day. We didn't take too many photos. We were too busy hauling the mail.
From left to right: Wedge1, Electrified, Bwdmax, Rman of 237, RollingJ, and Silverbullet
image by Rman of 237
As far as I know, this was the only get-off for our group of the entire weekend, and it happened moving the bike after the group photo.
image by Rman of 237
Silverbullet was losing feel on his hydraulic clutch, so he worked on it Friday night and got some feel back before we sacked out for the evening.
Saturday morning came and we started to gear up around 5. Wedge1 had forgotten his goggles so made a mad dash to the nearest Walmart about 15 miles up the road. He was to meet us at the Whataburger/gas station for breakfast and fuel.
Silverbullet checked on his clutch and it had no feel whatsoever. He worked and worked and got nowhere. We figure an internal seal had given up in the slave cylinder. SB called it, and told us to tear it up for him.
Then there were 5.
Wedge1 has riding his newly acquired DRZ400S but had brought his tried and true KLR650 along as a back-up. We met him for breakfast and he offered to let Silverbullet ride it. Be aware, none of us had ever ridden with him and less than 12 hours after meeting him for the first time, he offered his steed to a fellow rider. That says a lot in my book.
Then there were 6.
We get back to the Koa and I give SB the key. He had geared up while waiting for us to get back. He rolls the bike off the trailer and goes to warm her up. Nothing. No lights, gauges, clicks, nothing. Wedge1 gets back and we proceed to pull the sidecovers and seat to get at the battery. We jumpstart the bike and we can't get it to run right. The stator or rectifier/regulator has failed and won't run the bike right or charge the battery. There are no obvious trail fixes, so SB tells us to get out of there. I leave him the keys to my truck so he can get supplies to try and fix his bike and possibly meet us on the trail.
Then there were 5.
We had planned to be on the road at 6am with the hopes of finishing before dark. We pulled out of the Koa at 7am sharp and the sun was already over the horizon.
We rode. We stopped for gas and when somebody had to take a leak. We rode some more. Then to change things up, we went for a ride.
All the while pushing the pace.
There was a stretch of deep, rutted sand 1/4 mile long that I came into at about 50MPH. I started to ease up but instead I dropped a gear, sat back and opened it up. That bike was dancing like Ginger Rogers, but she finished the number in style.
About 5 hours in I glanced over my shoulder and was missing all my riders. I backtracked a couple tenths and found the group milling about. Wedge1 had lost his rear brake and his bike was down on power.
image by Rman of 237
The next gas stop was pretty soon, so he was going to get some fluid and see what he could do. Here is what we found.
image by Rman of 237
His rear caliper was destroyed. He called it, shook our hands, pushed some play back into the caliper, and slabbed it back to camp. This dude is a trooper, and is welcome to ride with me anytime, anywhere.
Then there were 4.
As we watched him ride away, we tried not to think about it.
Who would be next?
We got back on the road and hard on the throttle. We were making good time and things got clicking again.
I lead most of the way but felt guilty when I saw how grimy they were getting. Rman's gps gave up the ghost, so Bwdmax came to the lead with the only other working gps and I moved around the pack. At an intersection I rolled up to Bwdmax and reminded him that we were going to start seeing the sane three day ET450 riders coming the other way. Less than 5 min later we saw the first group. We waved and twisted the throttle.
Somewhere along here we came across a white pickup headed the opposite direction. Bwdmax was leading and I think the driver thought he had clipped him, because it looked like he was looking in his mirrors instead of watching the road. These roads are narrow to begin with, so when he turned this head he kept drifting to his left, forcing Rman to ride completely into the ditch to avoid a head-on collision. The driver jerked back to his side of the one-lane road, and we got by him with a little room to spare. Rman threw up an incredulous salute as he was getting his heart out of his throat.
About 30 minutes later only three riders came to a stop at the intersection just northeast of San Augustine. We backtracked a few hundred yards and found out who was next.
Electrifed has taking off his helmet and swearing off Husabergs for good. His bike was running great and all of the sudden it all fell apart. His bike was popping and cracking and generally sounding like it was about to blow up.
About this time the next couple of groups of riders came upon us, so everybody parked their bikes in the middle of the road and started shaking hands. There is not a whole lot of field repair that can be done on an FI bike with fuel issues. E had previously had a ton of trouble with fueling and cams, so there were a lot of witnesses to his graceful bowing out.
We called Silverbullet who told us that Wedge1 and just made it back to camp, dripping aluminum from his caliper. They jumped in W's truck and headed out to save the day. E limped at 35mph down to San Augustine to await the rescue.
Then there were 3.
We gave each other knowing looks and totally ignored the elephant in the room. We kicked the bikes to life (okay, Rman kicked his) and put the power down.
9 mile road is the jewel of this ride. I had been waiting all morning for this stretch of mudholes, and I took it at speed. I almost wrapped myself around a tree. Nobody saw it, but I just cleared it. Near the end of the rough stuff I found myself waiting longer than I should have. I roosted around and blasted back from whence I had come. I got to ride it twice! Rman had come up a rutted blind hill and almost went through the middle of the biggest, deepest hole out there. He had gotten hard on the binders and almost stopped in time. His front tire rolled in the hole, but he kept it upright and was able to back it out. That track going into it was all I saw of the incident.
image by Rman of 237
Telephone Road had a sign saying 'Bridge Out' but we shrugged out shoulders and went down it anyway. We don't need no stinking bridges. We do however need a way to get around the big backhoe very effectively blocking all passage. We consulted the GPS and found a way around. We did not make it to Toledo Bend proper, as all the road would have been paved and we could cut off about 5 miles of it that was straight as a board. Back on track, we put the hammer down.
This is the view the group saw for most of the day.
image by Rman of 237
Two o'clock found us at the Stump with 250 miles behind us. We geared down and relaxed for a spell. Not too long mind you, but those soft, wide benches were very comfortable. We were there about 30 minutes and it was time to re-mount the torture devices.
We stood. We did the one cheek sneak. We shook out our legs and tried to not think about how bad dirt bikes seats are for sitting on; all the while putting the miles behind us.
Near Apple Springs I got roosted by a guy on a four wheeler with his 3 year old on his lap. Neither were wearing helmets. He saw us coming and turned out of driveway in front of us. He was doing about 40, sliding all over, and really didn't want me to pass him. I backed off and he slowed down, so I went to pass. He sprayed me with sand again so I just let him go. He turned off about half a mile down. I figured it was 'his' road.
Somewhere around here I passed a tractor. As I did he drifted over and it was my turn to hop into the ditch. I think I scared the denim off of him. R and B said he whipped his head around and freaked out.
A little bit about doing this ride in one day. It's not hard or impossible or dangerous. We ride it fast, but stay within our limits. It is an endurance test of man and machine. This is not a race per se, but we
were racing the Sun.
We lost.
We watched the last traces of light disappear right after we crossed Hwy 21 west of Alto. To make matters worse, it started to rain.
The last 25 miles of twisty tight country roads were most definitely the hardest. We took the last miles at between 25-35 MPH, trying to see the road between the drops of water on our goggles and the dust in the air. I would lose them and stop. They would catch up and I would start again, putting a cloud of dust into the air. They would slow down to see and I would lose them again. Rinse and repeat. Rman lost his brakelight and taillight during this stretch. I was driving by GPS and a prayer, and if you know me you know how little that helps. I had to stand the whole way to get a little better coverage of the road my my headlight, but I got caught by a couple turns that were hiding.
When we got to Hwy 86 west of Rusk, I knew we had done it. 7 miles of rain-stinging slab to go, but the end was so close. The rain increased, but as it was pouring into my dirt-bike helmet, it was striking me squarely in my foolish grin.
We rolled together into the Koa at 7:52pm.
We had traveled 455 miles. We had a moving average of 44.7MPH and a total average including all stops of 34.5MPH. We had a lot of mechanical troubles but no falls, drops, or flats. Everyone made it home safely, and I call that a win.
I'll be back to do it again next year.
What about you?
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