Keith, Sean (SOB) and I made plans to explore the Kern River Canyon, a 3 hour drive north east of Los Angeles in the Sequoia National Forest. Keith was to meet his friend Moose for some river kayaking, while Sean and I loaded the bikes for some moto-adventure.
Sean (SOB)
Keith (Turfdraagster)
Leaving LA around 10pm, we set out for a little R&R, camping, and, as per usual, plenty of nonsense.
Entering a new canyon at night is always interesting and slightly unnerving. The Kern Canyon is treacherous to say the least. Keith was a white knuckle mess the whole way, doing his best to avoid smashing the camper on the overhanging rocks.
Keith's monster 1997 Dodge 3500 Cummins Turbo Diesel (12valve) roared into the sleepy campground around 1am. Needless to say, the little happy-hippy campers were not impressed. But I sure was. That Dodge is amazing!
We found campsite 21. Keith tried his best to park the 50 feet of truck and trailer in the compact spot. The trailer hung out into the road and we deemed it sufficient. We were "those guys."
We immediately found the beer and laughed into the weee hours.
In the morning, we woke to magnificence! River-side campsite!
Keith brewed up some stiff coffee and washed it down with a tasty PBR.
After milling around for a couple hours, Keith and friends climbed into their Kayaks and pushed off downriver.
Sean and I unloaded the XR's and chased after the boaters to take some pix.
20 miles up river, Sean and I rode into Kernville, a clean, little mountain town filled with whitewater rafters and big dudes on Harley's.
We stopped at a diner for a hearty breakfast.
I hopped across the road to the local bicycle shop for some advice, directions and small talk. The shop owner was a great guy, sold me a map and pointed us toward Old State Road, which we took into the hills.
After some exploring and about 10 miles of dirt and fun, we ran into two fine gents riding shiny KTM thumpers.
Paul (left) and Frank.
Frank's been riding in the area for 35 years and well, maybe it was my good looks, but he decided to show us his favorite super secret insane single-track. Yes PLEASE!
I can't tell you where it is, but I can tell you that it was super secret, insane and incredibly fun.
We charged through Manzanita groves, green meadows and up some steep, rutty hills into tall, lush forests.
Sean crashed twice. Those ruts were sandy, deep, off-camber and littered with roots. My hands and arms were burning. It was all I could do to just hang on.
We came across several trail-blocking trees felled in a southern Sierra storm. Most of these obstacles were easily negotiated, but one particular giant required us to go over.
Hopefully we'll meet up with Frank and Paul again. This trail required that everyone help everyone and they were more than willing to guide us through. Great guys.
We made it near the top, where deep snow drifts stopped us and we had to turn around.
Going down was just as good as going up.
Sean and I split from F&P and we rode the 20 miles back to Hobo.
Dinner was a treat.
Two brats covered in stir fried peppers, onions, and garlic.
Sunday morning, we packed up and headed home.
We'll be going back here for a long long time.
A nasty dust storm outside Bakersfield.
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