It promised to be another perfect weekend on some familiar, though not often ridden trails. Peter and I drove up to Big Bear Lake, checked in, unloaded and contacted John. Little left to do but look forward to an early start Saturday. Weather, gas, plan, route, all good to go. A mix of open trail and technical, rocky ascents gave way to many fast forest road sections. This prompted a late day 'photo shoot' doing power-slides ahead of John in an effort to coax the lens of his camera into following my every perceived radical demonstration of skill. The day ended with a banquet dinner and the promise of another day in the dirt the next morning. Sunday's ride led to different trails of varying excitement and difficulty, and the conclusion you now know.
"Get back from that cliff edge, now!!" my mother would frequently admonish. I had always sought to push the envelope, climb or jump from rock to rock, tree to tree, place to place, as a kid. On foot, bicycle or motorcycle, that's my thing (oh, and wheelies too - that's my thing). I can't help it. Showing off only to the audience in my head, I spent that morning purposely targeting each rock or boulder I could find along these trails. Our rocky descent down toward Deep Creek was no different. Tire worn paths snaked around and beside virtually every rocky protrusion, but the internal cheering throngs compelled me to jump over the top of each one rather than ride around. It all happened very fast, yet in slow-mo at the same time. The last one of dozens seemed fairly uniform except for a very small nub on the top edge - this small nub would cause me trouble for the next 18 months.
After stabilization and a plan of action, John found a pickup truck chugging along somewhere down the trail. The couple and young son graciously agreed to load up my spooked mount and its rider and ferry us past the final steep section of the trail.
In under 10 minutes of the first billowing cloud of post-crash dust, the return trip home had begun. My ignoble descent the final quarter mile would be in the bed of a jacked-up pick-me-up. My still-trusty (?) orange steed beside me, however threatened to exact further revenge on my swollen right knee; with each rock-induced, suspension-enhanced bounce, it hopped a little closer until I resorted to fighting it off each time with a well-timed, mid-hop counter-shove.
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| Sean's-eye view from back of pickup |
Back on relatively flat earth again, the bike and the wounded contemplated next steps. I could overhear John and Peter conferring in hushed tones. I love the way in which the injured and seemingly incapable are always left out of these discussions! Once the words 'wait' and 'keys' and 'drive back' were repeated one too many times, I piped up "I'm riding back". When the amount of time, delay and driving also sunk in with them (it hit me instantly as I'd be the one waiting), they reluctantly authorized my solo mission. I just couldn't get on the thing or start it by myself. This was achieved only by sporting a permanent grimace, but wasn't that hard in the end. Obliging me with a first gear selection, we hit the trail again.
34 miles remained, most of it pavement. Boy, am I glad I didn't wait for the posse to return with the wagon train. I figured we'd be back without further incident, but noticed Peter's image had suddenly left my mirror about half way back. I pulled off and waited for John to reconnoitre - bloody Aussie ran out of gas, leaving me holding my KTM and myself up on one leg by the side of the road for another 10 minutes. It actually was an uneventful and relatively painless ride the rest of the way back to the truck. Peter and John did the loading & packing while my elevated knee continued loading and packing with the body's stress response agents. Fortunately, though, I never got to see what 'melon-sized' was going to look like...!
Call to wife while waiting. "Oh, yeah - awesome weekend. great weather, fun ride. Oh, and when I get back, don't worry about it, I'm fine." "What did you do?" she knowingly intoned. Those words, "I'm fine" mean anything but to a concerned spouse. Surgery and many months of recovery remained in my future...
[Final MRI tally: torn ACL, torn meniscus, microfractures to tibia and femur, bone bruising in head of tibia and femur, broken fibula, torn muscle and some other partially torn ligament]
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