In which the author mistakes her husband's confidence and enthusiasm for her own.
Two soundtracks well suited to this article are TikToks "Oooooooooooh, I fucked up..." and "Wanna take a nap right here!...,
"Planning"
"Babe, I have to take next week off. They're making me take vacation days."
Having just finished paying bills, I received that news as a mixed blessing. Too broke to live large, but thrilled at the idea of tiny moto camping. Steve was not as thrilled about the idea, as there's a lot of highway to get where I wanted to go. I wondered aloud if there was enough tread on the old 4Runner to haul the dual sports to Mono Lake and back, and he responded, "should be." This is how we roll.
I gathered food and supplies, he did some moto and vehicle maintenance, and off we went without any meaningful plan other than find some dispersed camping overlooking Mono Lake for a base camp and load the dual sports for camping from there. No plan was to be taken seriously until we had a proper paper map in hand.
The sun was already down when we got there, so the proper thing to do was pull out the chairs, enjoy a beverage, soak in the beauty, and listen to coyotes chatter nearby. The dirt was noticeably light, loose and fluffy. I don't have an education in forestry or geology, but this seamed like an observation I should make note of. Planning would have to wait until morning.
It was chilly that night, so the morning sun felt good. Highs for the day were forecast in the 80's.
Over coffee we researched a little more about the area. Volcanoes! It hadn't really occurred to me, but duh, now its obvious. The dirt makes a little more sense now. These are not extinct volcanoes, which is somewhat relative on the timeline. Apparently this area is over due, adding to the strange mix of dread and excitement.
Lee Vining was just a few miles away, so that's where we would find our regional paper map before we headed out for a night of dual sport camping.
Being on a small displacement motorcycle loaded with camp gear on the 395 for any distance brings more anxiety the the dread of active volcanoes, so I was hoping to find a back way into Bodie and camp somewhere up there.
"Babe, did you know there was a narrow gauge railroad that went from Mono Mills to Bodie? Look, it's right here on the map." Now he was a little like a kid in a hobby train shop, and that set our adventure in motion.
Heading out.
The first challenge was a deep water crossing, which I was excited about, having never crossed anything that deep or rocky. I watched Steve ahead of me so I could pick his line if he made it. Of course he did. Now I was on the hook. I wear tall boots, so I was sure I would get across with out getting too wet. I did not.
I made it with out falling over, so yay! My boots, however completely filled with water. It felt lovely, though. I was just hoping they might dry out before too long. The dirt roads were in great condition, so I was feeling pretty confident.
Road1N54
Steve stopped to check on my confidence at the warning sign. In my mind, I thought "send it" but my filtered and cautious words sounded more like, "I think I can", and off he went. I should inform you at this point that he is an even more expert than expert rider. I on the other hand, am a novice by choice. I don't like being broken.
On any given day, I hate sand. But the sand on road 1N54 is deceptively evil, so much so that even an attempt at cross country will swallow your tires. This, however is not apparent until your in too deep to turn around.
Enter said TikTok soundtrack #1.....
The optimist in me kept repeating, in Thomas the Tank Engine fashion, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can," while an overtone of "Oooooooooooh, I fucked up..." drowned out my optimism. By this time my boots were not just wet, but now caked. There was no "send it" option in this situation. Between gearing and my lack of talent, all I could muster was clutch, throttle, paddle, paddle, clutch, throttle, paddle, paddle, much like the rattle-tattle of an old railroad. I should note that at this point, there was still zero evidence that one ever existed. I pressed on.
In this mess, if I shifted my weight back, I would be buried to the swing arm, and if I weighted forward, I couldn't steer. So the drum became forward, clutch, throttle, paddle, back, paddle, throttle, clutch, kinda like a banjo roll. Tedious I know. In 3 hours I had traveled less that 20 miles, 6 of which were this sand and theoretically 20 more to go before decent conditions, made more defeating by Steve riding back to check on me, full of smiles and energy, but with a hint of concern.
I was done. Cooked from the inside out and nearly out of water. I don't like to give up, but here we were. I burried the bike to the swing arm out of spite and frustration and kicked out the underbrush with my very heavy boots to find some shade. I could still spit, sort of, but the tears would not come. All the signs were there to go from mere frustration to medically dire in short order.
Enter said TikTok soundtrack #2....
"Wanna take a nap, right here....," I didn't event care about bugs crawling in my pants. Camp was only 4 (long) miles away with no change in conditions, but I couldn't even lift my feet at this point. So my hero/husband headed for camp to grab the rig, hoping the 4 wheel drive still worked. It took a long time. I think I slept. After a long marriage, the thought crossed my mind that he might actually "lose" me in the desert. He didn't. He came back with the cooler and gatorade. :)
Back at camp there were still hours left of the daylight, but all I could do was nap in cool wet clothes. Steve must have been concerned, because he didn't go exploring until he was sure I would wake up from my nap. I did.
Salvage the day
There were a couple of roads we could explore in the 4Runner before it got dark, like Bald Mountain Lookout. So I swilled some carbohydrates to lessen the on-setting pain from the days misadventure, and took my seat in the rig and enjoyed the ride. I think we found one of next years campsites. What glorious country, and what an amazingly patient man.
A fresh day, a fresh search for the railroad bed....in the 4Runner.
I woke up with "arm pump", two pulled groins, and screaming hips. I'm old, remember?! If any day was going to feel like a vacation, this was that day! A dip in the lake, a lite hike to a volcano, a fancy lunch in town. You know. And then we would try to reverse engineer the railroad from Bodie to Mono Mills.
For starters, the mozzarella tomato and basil panini from Epic Cafe is to die for, as is the Mammoth IPA. Steve is always on the hunt for a great cup of coffee and he was happy with his house blend from Latte Da Cafe, but I will sing praises about their mocha latte with Mexican chocolate and whipped cream! This day was going to be awesome.
We took the 395 route to Bodie, which was somewhat uninteresting and pleasantly uneventful. For a ghost town, It was surprisingly peopley, especially considering this pandemic.
Hoping to achieve our mission, we asked one of the rangers about a back way and and old railroad. He was not aware of the details, but he did point us to a well maintained dirt road that would get us to the 167 on the north side of the lake. It was not the railroad but it was a start.
We studied our map and searched the Google when we had service. It looked very promising turning east at Goat Ranch and North-ish just after Lime Kiln. No surprise here. The sand is deep, the brush is over grown, rocks and boulders are everywhere, 4 wheel drive is absolutely required, and its totally beautiful. We were also totally on our own, for better or worse. We did see a badger, and that was cool. We did not find any evidence of a railroad before we had to head back to camp. We nearly didn't make it back to camp. Clearly nobody has been on those roads in years. I believe we were on the right track, though.
Ball Joints.
"Not tonight, darling, I'm just not in the mood for camping sex."
(Pause)
"Babe, we can't take the 4Runner out in those conditions until we replace the ball joints."
Oh. I sensed his relief that we actually made it back to camp. Our 98 4Runner has about 285,000 miles on it. I love that car, so we'll make room in the budget for ball joints...and tires. We picked up a screw in one of the tires, but thankfully made it home.
Last day, last try.
It was forecast to start heating up, so we ate lite and packed everything up but didn't load yet. We wanted to try one more road nearby to find the rail bed, so we jumped in for a quick run, no water, no shovel. Out of nowhere there was a jeep (heavy traffic), the first we had seen in a few days. Steve pulled off the road to let them by, and the sand began to swallow the tires. "Eva" had had enough adventure. The electronic 4WD mechanism had quit in that moment. Steve would have to figure out how to get us out and back to camp. The search for the railroad bed was off. Being a desert racer in his wilder days, he was perfectly able to get us home. Momentum is your best friend. We were both a little sad, though that we didn't find the old rail bed.
We hope to head back in the spring, just after the snow melts, in hopes that conditions are a little easier to navigate on the motorcycles. And next time, we'll bring kayaks for the lake. Mono Lake is a treasure and I can't wait to go back there with more time to spend, and fresh ball joints. :)
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