Stories and Press

Stories and Press
RODEO MOE (The UNLIKELY COWBOYS) EASTERNERS GO WEST IN SEARCH OF FUN AND FREEDOM! By the Editor of TRAIL RIDER MAGAZINE, Paul Clipper Is everybody ready?" The aging easterner was handed a hard hat to complete the costume before he drew up on the plunger. "No wait, turn this way! I want to get your face in the video!" It was a combination mini seminar and photo-op, sort of like the Boy Scouts version of Dynamite 101. The subject of the video was poised over an ancient wooden box that looked exactly like something out of a Roadrunner cartoon. It actually said "Atlas Twin-Fifty Blasting Machine" on its top plate. "Fire in the hole!" The detonator was set for a disorienting seven second delay, and we all turned our eyes towards the side of the hill wondering if the box even still worked. It did. "KABOOM!" Beautiful! Our first primer on the use of dynamite in gold mining was a success, although it didn't rain down nuggets on us, unfortunately. We shuffled back to the transport vehicle and rode back to the bikes, then went through the usual process of layering on the riding gear and going out for the ride back, ears ringing and satisfied. Just another fine cap on a day of fun with Nevada Motorcycle Adventures. What happens when you get together with a bunch of like-minded individuals for a riding vacation out west with Nevada Motorcycle Adventures? Well, just about anything you want. In our case, we decided early in the spring that a short week in cowboy country would be just what we needed this year. Shuck off all the East Coast rules and restrictions (as this is being written, a bill is before the legislature in our home state that will outlaw dirt hiking completely in State Forests; and the town I live in passed a law making it illegal to let your cat outside with it being on a leash) and head out to, literally, the middle of nowhere. A place where you can act just as stupid as you want, and everything's fine as long as you don't bother anyone else. Nevada is that kind of place. Where else in the country can you find the sport of Open Road Racing? In ORR competition, the main road between two towns which, in Nevada, can easily be 90 miles or more apart, is closed off and various classes of cars race for a target average speed between the start and the finish. The lowest average speed class is 95 mph, and the top class is the Unlimited, where the winner sets the fastest time on the course, sometimes hitting speeds of 200 mph or more on long straights. Try doing something like this in, say, Connecticut. So we hooked up with Matt, owner and top notch trail boss of Nevada Motorcycle Adventures, and off we went. Now, by this story I don't want to give the impression that there are no laws in Nevada; there are. You can't just go out there and cut loose. But they have a much broader definition of what acceptable behavior might be. Like dynamite! How else are you going to move all that rock? And where else can you play with an abandoned APC? (To the uninitiated, that’s an armored personnel carrier - Not your average desert litter!) We flew into Reno, hooked up with Matt, and regrouped immediately at the Great Basin Brewing Company in Sparks. A man gets thirsty out there in the desert, and we knew it was important to be well hydrated. We found out right away that Lyle Lovett, another dirt biker, was playing in a couple of nights at the Nugget, right across the street. We would have liked to hook up with him, but we'd be way out in the desert when he was in town, and it wouldn't be possible. Too bad, a little cowboy music would have been a valuable addition to another fine vacation in Nevada. The other down side to our trip was fire, and lots of it. We were planning to head south from Reno and explore the Sierras on the Nevada/California border, but a massive brush fire stood in our way. Most of us had ridden in fire-ravaged areas before, and it's not a lot of fun. We reluctantly changed our plans and decided to head out into the high desert country and cool our heels. So in the morning we headed off into the outback. We could see the pass we were planning to take over the mountains, fifteen miles away, with no problem. There are no trees in the way in Nevada, unless you really go looking for them. Down low, there also aren't many bushes. There's nothing, except rocks and sky. A big change, and a welcome change, from the East Coast. There’s a whole lotta room out there, and not a whole lotta condos like back east. We noodled around in the hills, working our way east, then hooked up with our support truck and loaded up for the drive to town. We could have ridden there, but we were scorched by our first day (we landed in the middle of a record setting heat wave) in the desert heat, and besides, it was the fourth of July and the urge to celebrate was upon us. Cut to the local watering hole. It's an unassuming looking building in the western style, complete with wooden sidewalk and ornate imported cherry wood bar inside. The building and bar were brought here in 1863, when it had been disassembled in Virginia City, packed on wagons, and dragged hundreds of miles to cash in on the latest silver strike. Inside you'll find rough wooden walls, a rough wooden floor, and an equally rough woman bartender named Curly who will call you an asshole and swat you with a huge fly swatter the minute you say something stupid. Which, of course, in a bar, is going to happen almost immediately. It's a very down-home place, and most dirt bikers will be instantly comfortable there. After a few cocktails and a fine dinner, we jumped in a truck and headed out of town to make some noise. It was the fourth, after all, and there weren't any fire-works in town. We supplied our own at a remote location. Way too much fun! The next morning we loaded up and headed out of town again, this time into the mountains and eventually to the top of a 10,000’ peak. Climbing up mountains is something you do a lot in Nevada; the state boasts over 250 separate named mountain ranges. It's especially welcome in the summer, when the temperatures down low occasionally reach 100 degrees, and it's generally cooler and breezier at altitude. We had our packed lunch in an aspen grove on the side of the mountain, a green, grassy oasis full of birds, bugs and wildlife in the middle of this arid land. The trees were decorated with carved graffiti from years of shepherds passing through. Historically the shepherds were Basques, who brought a lot of their culture to the local towns. These days the shepherds tending the flocks could be from South America or practically anywhere. One day we met a Peruvian shepherd and his two horses and dogs, camped high on a ridge in the middle of nowhere. He'll work the sheep along the high country all summer, bringing them down in the fall before going home a relatively rich man, after being unable to spend any of his pay for a season. More mountain trails eventually brought us back to town, and another night dodging Curley's flyswatter. The motel across the street was temporary lodging to street bikers touring through. We talked to one group who were doing a ten day tour of the state, hitting every hole-in-the-wall cowboy town along the way, of which this one certainly qualifies. The next day they were riding the short 60 miles or so to a bar/restaurant for the horseshoe-throwing championships and a big July 4th party. It sounded like fun, but also like some hot riding. The next day we took another loop ride that included a visit to an eerie bit of ancient volcanic landscape. With the ground laid bare in this vast desert you don't miss much. You can see craters, volcanic extrusions, ripped-open earthquake faults and every type of geology you can imagine. If you know what you're looking for I'm certain you could find dinosaur bones. I've seen seashells on top of 10,000-foot peaks in this desert! There are bobcats, mountain lions, bighorn sheep and rattlesnakes. The only thing there isn't much of is people. It's a wild and wooly place. I can't reveal where we were because I honestly have no idea. Just another fine time with Nevada Motorcycle Adventures. We had our lunch at the gold mine that started this story. The owner of the property gave us the full tour of the working mine and all the support buildings before the lesson on blasting. It was really interesting to see, and an amazing look into what drove men to tunnel long, long holes into mountains looking for a pretty yellow metal. It's a rough way to make a living. Since it was a vacation for us, and since some of our party had to get on a plane the next day, we made a decision to zip back to civilization and spend the next day soaking our hot feet in Lake Tahoe and getting a little valuable pool time. Come Monday morning we'd all be sitting in planes and winging our way back to the humidity. It's a great way to break up the year, and despite, what you think it's not oppressively hot in the high altitudes of Nevada in the summer. Besides, it's a very dry heat that feels much cooler than it does around here when you're moving or in the shade. But be prepared from November to April you're likely to have to wear a jacket buttoned up all day, and you will not be riding from December through February because there's just too much snow. Many thanks to Matt!. Many of these sights and experiences wouldn’t be possible without his knowledge of the landscape and contacts with the locals. Make your own trip to Nevada by calling Nevada Motorcycle Adventures at 775-359-4380 or emailing them at: info@nevadamotorcycle.com This story was published in TRAIL RIDER MAGAZINE, September 2002.

RODEO MOE
(The UNLIKELY COWBOYS)
EASTERNERS GO WEST IN SEARCH OF FUN AND FREEDOM!
By the Editor of TRAIL RIDER MAGAZINE, Paul Clipper

Is everybody ready?" The aging easterner was handed a hard hat to complete the costume before he drew up on the plunger. "No wait, turn this way! I want to get your face in the video!"

It was a combination mini seminar and photo-op, sort of like the Boy Scouts version of Dynamite 101. The subject of the video was poised over an ancient wooden box that looked exactly like something out of a Roadrunner cartoon. It actually said "Atlas Twin-Fifty Blasting Machine" on its top plate.

"Fire in the hole!" The detonator was set for a disorienting seven second delay, and we all turned our eyes towards the side of the hill wondering if the box even still worked. It did. "KABOOM!"

Beautiful! Our first primer on the use of dynamite in gold mining was a success, although it didn't rain down nuggets on us, unfortunately. We shuffled back to the transport vehicle and rode back to the bikes, then went through the usual process of layering on the riding gear and going out for the ride back, ears ringing and satisfied. Just another fine cap on a day of fun with Nevada Motorcycle Adventures.

What happens when you get together with a bunch of like-minded individuals for a riding vacation out west with Nevada Motorcycle Adventures? Well, just about anything you want. In our case, we decided early in the spring that a short week in cowboy country would be just what we needed this year. Shuck off all the East Coast rules and restrictions (as this is being written, a bill is before the legislature in our home state that will outlaw dirt hiking completely in State Forests; and the town I live in passed a law making it illegal to let your cat outside with it being on a leash) and head out to, literally, the middle of nowhere. A place where you can act just as stupid as you want, and everything's fine as long as you don't bother anyone else.

Nevada is that kind of place. Where else in the country can you find the sport of Open Road Racing? In ORR competition, the main road between two towns which, in Nevada, can easily be 90 miles or more apart, is closed off and various classes of cars race for a target average speed between the start and the finish. The lowest average speed class is 95 mph, and the top class is the Unlimited, where the winner sets the fastest time on the course, sometimes hitting speeds of 200 mph or more on long straights. Try doing something like this in, say, Connecticut.

So we hooked up with Matt, owner and top notch trail boss of Nevada Motorcycle Adventures, and off we went. Now, by this story I don't want to give the impression that there are no laws in Nevada; there are. You can't just go out there and cut loose. But they have a much broader definition of what acceptable behavior might be. Like dynamite! How else are you going to move all that rock? And where else can you play with an abandoned APC? (To the uninitiated, that’s an armored personnel carrier - Not your average desert litter!)

We flew into Reno, hooked up with Matt, and regrouped immediately at the Great Basin Brewing Company in Sparks. A man gets thirsty out there in the desert, and we knew it was important to be well hydrated. We found out right away that Lyle Lovett, another dirt biker, was playing in a couple of nights at the Nugget, right across the street. We would have liked to hook up with him, but we'd be way out in the desert when he was in town, and it wouldn't be possible. Too bad, a little cowboy music would have been a valuable addition to another fine vacation in Nevada.

The other down side to our trip was fire, and lots of it. We were planning to head south from Reno and explore the Sierras on the Nevada/California border, but a massive brush fire stood in our way. Most of us had ridden in fire-ravaged areas before, and it's not a lot of fun. We reluctantly changed our plans and decided to head out into the high desert country and cool our heels.

So in the morning we headed off into the outback. We could see the pass we were planning to take over the mountains, fifteen miles away, with no problem. There are no trees in the way in Nevada, unless you really go looking for them. Down low, there also aren't many bushes. There's nothing, except rocks and sky. A big change, and a welcome change, from the East Coast. There’s a whole lotta room out there, and not a whole lotta condos like back east.

We noodled around in the hills, working our way east, then hooked up with our support truck and loaded up for the drive to town. We could have ridden there, but we were scorched by our first day (we landed in the middle of a record setting heat wave) in the desert heat, and besides, it was the fourth of July and the urge to celebrate was upon us.

Cut to the local watering hole. It's an unassuming looking building in the western style, complete with wooden sidewalk and ornate imported cherry wood bar inside. The building and bar were brought here in 1863, when it had been disassembled in Virginia City, packed on wagons, and dragged hundreds of miles to cash in on the latest silver strike.

Inside you'll find rough wooden walls, a rough wooden floor, and an equally rough woman bartender named Curly who will call you an asshole and swat you with a huge fly swatter the minute you say something stupid. Which, of course, in a bar, is going to happen almost immediately. It's a very down-home place, and most dirt bikers will be instantly comfortable there.

After a few cocktails and a fine dinner, we jumped in a truck and headed out of town to make some noise. It was the fourth, after all, and there weren't any fire-works in town. We supplied our own at a remote location. Way too much fun!

The next morning we loaded up and headed out of town again, this time into the mountains and eventually to the top of a 10,000’ peak. Climbing up mountains is something you do a lot in Nevada; the state boasts over 250 separate named mountain ranges. It's especially welcome in the summer, when the temperatures down low occasionally reach 100 degrees, and it's generally cooler and breezier at altitude.

We had our packed lunch in an aspen grove on the side of the mountain, a green, grassy oasis full of birds, bugs and wildlife in the middle of this arid land. The trees were decorated with carved graffiti from years of shepherds passing through. Historically the shepherds were Basques, who brought a lot of their culture to the local towns. These days the shepherds tending the flocks could be from South America or practically anywhere.

One day we met a Peruvian shepherd and his two horses and dogs, camped high on a ridge in the middle of nowhere. He'll work the sheep along the high country all summer, bringing them down in the fall before going home a relatively rich man, after being unable to spend any of his pay for a season. More mountain trails eventually brought us back to town, and another night dodging Curley's flyswatter.

The motel across the street was temporary lodging to street bikers touring through. We talked to one group who were doing a ten day tour of the state, hitting every hole-in-the-wall cowboy town along the way, of which this one certainly qualifies. The next day they were riding the short 60 miles or so to a bar/restaurant for the horseshoe-throwing championships and a big July 4th party. It sounded like fun, but also like some hot riding.

The next day we took another loop ride that included a visit to an eerie bit of ancient volcanic landscape. With the ground laid bare in this vast desert you don't miss much. You can see craters, volcanic extrusions, ripped-open earthquake faults and every type of geology you can imagine. If you know what you're looking for I'm certain you could find dinosaur bones. I've seen seashells on top of 10,000-foot peaks in this desert!

There are bobcats, mountain lions, bighorn sheep and rattlesnakes. The only thing there isn't much of is people. It's a wild and wooly place. I can't reveal where we were because I honestly have no idea. Just another fine time with Nevada Motorcycle Adventures.

We had our lunch at the gold mine that started this story. The owner of the property gave us the full tour of the working mine and all the support buildings before the lesson on blasting. It was really interesting to see, and an amazing look into what drove men to tunnel long, long holes into mountains looking for a pretty yellow metal. It's a rough way to make a living.

Since it was a vacation for us, and since some of our party had to get on a plane the next day, we made a decision to zip back to civilization and spend the next day soaking our hot feet in Lake Tahoe and getting a little valuable pool time. Come Monday morning we'd all be sitting in planes and winging our way back to the humidity.

It's a great way to break up the year, and despite, what you think it's not oppressively hot in the high altitudes of Nevada in the summer. Besides, it's a very dry heat that feels much cooler than it does around here when you're moving or in the shade. But be prepared from November to April you're likely to have to wear a jacket buttoned up all day, and you will not be riding from December through February because there's just too much snow.

Many thanks to Matt!. Many of these sights and experiences wouldn’t be possible without his knowledge of the landscape and contacts with the locals. Make your own trip to Nevada by calling Nevada Motorcycle Adventures at 775-359-4380 or emailing them at: info@nevadamotorcycle.com

This story was published in TRAIL RIDER MAGAZINE, September 2002.