Motorcycle Mayhem or First Encounters

I'm back to work. I can't remember what it is I was doing before I left, but I know it was defiantly not memorable. Not much has really changed in the 5 days from away from my cushy lumbar supporting proper posture promoting office chair- its just that my mind was so far from anything that resembled actual office work. So far from work that I even forgot my cell phone in Denver. That's defiantly a first for me.

So here's what went down over the last few days...

Wednesday night & Thursday day was spent in Denver catching up with a few old friends and wasting time in the city. It was really good to spend time with friends I usually only chat with by phone or online...at the same time it was torture. So close to the mountains, but not quite there. I felt bad because my friend was going through a real rough time in her marriage and needed someone to talk to. I'm not that guy. I can barely be compassionate when my wife is breaking down in tears let alone a friend who's letting it all out. It's not that I don't care. I just never know what to say, and in this particular situation, all I really wanted was to be in the mountains instead of restaurant in downtown Denver. I'm selfish I guess.

The drive to Vail was pretty quick once we actually got on the road. I tried to steer the conversation away from relationships, and when it did go that way, I agreed with everything she said. We finally made it to Vail around 11pm Thursday night- I could finally relax. I wish she could feel the same way, but all she has to look forward to is going home to a asshole of a husband.

I was staying with Brent- my old roommate and trusted snowboarding companion. If there was one person I would trust with well-being, it would be him. Learning to snowboard together we pretty much figured out how big of a rock drop each other could take before it would cause any real lasting injury. If he said "go" I would go with hesitation knowing the worst that could possibly happen is that he would get a good laugh out of watching me eat shit. So I guess it's fitting that he be there for my first time back on a motor cross bike in at least 10 years.


The next few days were spent learning how to race a 250cc 4-stroke Honda motorcycle over varying mountain terrain...at the same time becoming way to familiar with the dust, snow, rocks, tress, and mud, that covered the trails. I only went down a few times. Once hard enough to scratch up my helmet pretty good and get chunks of gravel under my chest protector. Thank God for motocross body armor.

The funny thing is that the pain from getting tossed off the bike was nothing compared to the sore muscles, blistered feet, and heat exhaustion. I also thought I was in pretty good shape, but I guess not for riding a motorcycles for 6 to 8 hours a day. Each day got progressively worse until the last day I could barely keep any tension in my arms. My thighs still hurt.

The last night we decided to camp out near Wolcott Pass- a few miles out in the middle of the mountains. I was hoping to get a couple good motocross and landscape shots, but the weather wasn't really cooperating. We were expecting typical mountain sun showers, not thunder storms. I also noticed all the trees had burn strips running down their trunks where they had been struck by lighting.


Before the storm rolled in we had time to cooks some hot dogs and fire off a couple of fireworks Brent packed just for the trip. Initially the lightning was pretty far off, but didn't take long to move in on the camp. I tried to get a couple of time lapse shots of the storm that didn't work out. We ended up hiding in the tent to avoid becoming a lighting rods.

While hanging out in the tent waiting for the storm to pass, all of the sudden, we heard crazy sound out side the tent. Sounded almost like weird horn, or bird, but really fookin' loud.

Me -"What the hell? Bird?"

Brent- that was no fuckin' bird.

Not another word about it between us.

Really loud bird that hangs out in the rain @ 2am??? I didn't want to piss it off more than it already sounded, and if it wasn't a bird...I didn't want to see what was hangin' out in the forest, at night, miles from any civilization, and in a storm. I regret not checking it out, but don't regret the possible alien annal probe that could have resulted from being brave.

Next day Brent drove me back to Denver where I got to see a few more friends before showing up to the airport almost 4 hours before my delayed flight.

Best part about the trip was I didn't miss any notable surf session. Now if I can just plan every trip between swells I'll be golden! I guess it's not too hard to do during the summer.