Babes in the Dirt: Gone With the Wind Part III

At some point after we had scarfed down some Sausage McMuffins, we sauntered over to the riders meeting.  It was similar to any track day but tailored toward simply keeping things cool when riding on the trails and being aware of the rules for the area.  Fox introduced their ambassadors, Stancemoto announced that they were giving away free moto-socks to each of us attendees, Stumptown Coffee was dishing out some cold brew, and of course, the law-dogs gave us the low down on basically, how not to die or get in trouble with the law.  Afterwards, we were off to the trails.  And we all scurried back to our camps to prep for the adventures.  Babe #1 seized the opportunity to take off on her own adventure to fulfill her hiking plans for the day.  It was a bummer, but breaking your collarbone in 4 places does warrant some legitimacy in excusing one from action.  She set off, but not before snapping the official commemorative photo of our group.

I will openly admit that I am horrible at riding in the dirt.  I think we got off to a good start as we puttered down the road with the more experienced babes in the lead, using their best judgement to identify a trail that wouldn't immediately lead to the catastrophic failure of the two of us who were less talented in the dirt.  I wasn't feeling particularly tense, as some of the skills of riding a motorcycle are universal.  But some definitely aren't.  We turned off of the main road onto a trail that started off pretty decent.  The dirt gradually start to loosen up and there began a sparse drizzling of rocks.  I perched up on the pegs even though I probably really didn't need to.  It makes me feel a little more stable when I do, and I coasted along behind everyone as we made our way into the catacombs of dirt eutopia. Each little slip of the rear made me smile a little even though I was still apprehensive about jumping into a handful of throttle. I felt as though I could be the master of this flat moderate packed dirty stuff.  But then the slightest little curve came about and I immediately checked my ego and settled back into my reluctance to do anything "too crazy." 

I followed the team as the little trail weaved its way upon a pretty sharp corner that immediately began to jut up the side of a mountain.  It narrowed, and I watched as Babe #2 disappeared around the narrow corner.  Not being too far behind her, I looked at the blind corner above me and immediately cringed a little. Well shit... 2 things are gonna come out of this: I will prevail, or I will have one hell of a story to tell about how I broke my ass within the first hour of my Babes in the Dirt experience. This was already a bit too advanced for me, but I resigned myself to grown a pair of balls and following the path even though I damn near instantly rolled off the throttle. I tried to figure out a line given how little I understood about the lines of dirt riding and where my bike might take me. I mean yeah, I have skill in throttle control and clutch feathering and all of that jazz... and I like to think I am pretty in tune with my sport bike when she is trying to tell me something. But I am definitely not bilingual in the language of low traction on a taller profile bike with squishier suspension and a pretty sweet turn radius. So it really felt like a crap shoot as to where the bike might wind up, regardless of my insistence of not letting her get too crazy.  

As I crept up the hill I heard the sound of motors behind me. Great, a bunch of dudes who were probably pro-badasses held up behind the chick on the girl-bike. I instantly felt guilty as I knew I would be holding them up but I didn't feel bad enough to cave to the pressure to yank the throttle and GTFO of the way.  Instead I muttered in my helmet: "Sorry fuckaz... ya'll get to ride with miss daisy... but I promise I'll pull over at the next turnout."  Within a few seconds the rear tire of babe #2's bike appeared and I noted that she was standing next to it. The other two babes had blasted up the mountain but were aware of our minor setback and I figured they would eventually come back to save us just in time to beat out the vultures.  I glanced up the hill and concluded that this was beyond my level of skill, and I crept my bike as far out of the way as possible; which, was not much given how narrow and curved the trail was. Afterwards, I attempted to turn the bike around without dumping it in the middle of the track.  That wasn't really saying much since the width of the trail was barely wider than the length of my bike... but still... I chickened out and paused to take a picture while I waited for the expert-babe to get my bike out of the way.

The corner... in hindsight

We reconvened at the bottom and the expert babes made note to find trails that were more suited for the limited skillset of us two slower riders, and occasionally the expert-babes would venture up the hills and trails that split from the main track.  I was determined to develop some improvement and during one stop, I declared to one of the expert babes that I really felt that I should work on developing some confidence in cornering in the dirt; hitting the very basics.  We were in the perfect place for it in the middle of a plateau where a bunch of trails had converged on an entry way just outside of a campground and I began doing some circles with my foot out, in order to get a better feel for the dirt style of riding; body position, braking, clutch feathering, etc.  The babes were extremely supportive and even hung around a bit to give me some pointers and laugh with me as I took my riding experience back to level -1. It was one of the many things that made the weekend such an amazing experience.  Being around other women who loved riding as much as I did, and were down to earth, funny, friendly and patient enough to take the time to ensure that everyone was having fun.  In some ways, I felt like I was learning how to ride a motorcycle all over again, but I was having an outright blast riding my XT in my little one-person "barrel race," around circles and along little paths that led to steeper inclines. This weekend was exactly what I needed.

Once I got used to the rear slide and the way the bike settled into its lines, I began to focus more on actually choosing good lines. Mind you, I had only graduated to using 3rd gear at this point, but god damn if it didn't feel every bit of 90 mph. It's a good thing I don't care what people think (even if they were six years old and flying by me like I was some geriatric old lady on a walker), otherwise I might have been a little embarrassed. Instead I just laughed... and laughed, and almost dropped my bike, and laughed some more, and owned every bit of my remedial skill level in dirt riding.

It was a brief exercise, but it did wonders to build up my confidence. Before too long the four of us had re-grouped and set off to explore more uncharted territory.  I was, by no means an expert, but I certainly felt like the bike was less likely to take on a mind of it's own and dart off like a spooked horse into some jagged ravine (okay so I didn't really feel quite that dramatic it, but still... it was an improvement).  So, we rode on for a bit and then two of us broke off to take a break in camp.

The Vendors