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Feel free to hang out and lurk as long as you like. However, we would like to encourage you to 
First off, I'd like to specifically thank Dustin, TJ, Rich, and Jimmy. I owe a lot of people in this community a drink or three, but y'all are first in line.
I rode from Austin to Study Butte on wednesday on my 1993 KLR650, along with my friend Dustin. The temperature leaving Austin was 39 degrees, and in parts of Big Bend it was 32. I have never broken a speed limit as badly as I did trying to get through Big Bend NP to a warm motel.
The Thursday ride was up to Dustin and I. After refilling the quart of oil my KLR ate, we decided to hop on Old Maverick Road and then try out River Road West. We headed down Old Maverick Road down to Saint Elana Canyon, which was beautiful.
Walking back to our bikes, Dustin pointed out liquid on my front tire. Wasn't much and didn't taste like brake fluid, so we shrugged and moved onto River Road. I got about a quarter mile into River Road before I pulled off to inspect it again.
And, bad news. My right fork was profusely leaking fluid onto my front tire and brakes. The striped pattern is oil flinging outwards from rotation. This was especially frustrating since I had recently had the front suspension completely rebuilt by a pretty renowned professional. Still, it's old junk, and you deal with old junk problems.
So, I talk with Dustin for a second, and along comes some guy on a Husqy701, and says something along the lines of "That's Baby Mark!" And I realize it's a group of guys I met during the last Mextrek. (Sean, Tim, adult Mark & Curtis). It ends up being perfect because Dustin wants to do the rest of River Road, and I limp back to the motel, along Maxwell Scenic Highway.
After digging in the fork seal for a while, another group of guys sees me repeatedly running my bike into a berm (testing the forks) , wondering what the **** I was doing. They immediately jump to action and try to help me, we end up popping it on a stand and trying again. (Sorry to those guys, I don't remember your names) The leaking gets a little better and I figured that was good enough. We go to the introduction banquet and enjoy everyone's company.
On the second day, we wake up, grab some coffee and join some guys from last year's TAR, and we set off after Old Ore Road. We're rocking the road for a while, kicking up dust when suddenly...
Plugged pilot jet. I kill the battery trying to get it started. I was just about to push that bike into the desert and leave it. Thankfully, as per usual, my group was more than supportive and we hatched a plan...well, sordof. They'll bumpstart me and I go as far as I can. It takes a few tries, but suddenly I'm off to the races, I can't stop/cut throttle or I'm stuck again. And for those with too much free time, you can watch the whole thing. 56 minutes, complete with several close calls, jeeps, and profanity. ...a lot of profanity. (This video is still processing as I'm writing this)
So, I get to the end, my pilot jet magically fixes itself and the battery charges (a little), and I wait for ~40 minutes for my group. Bike works, my spirits are once again intact, and we take off towards Glenn Spring.
At the end of the trail, I stop to take pictures again.
Aaaaand bike's dead, again. We get it bumpstarted and I limp back to camp....again, tail between my legs. I send out texts to all my motorcycle compatriots. I'm starting to lose faith, and I ignore my troubles until the next day. I set up camp, we hit up La Kiva, (Keith and Mike now along) listen to Sean's story about his trouble with the local lawmen, and get some more sleep.
Day 3, I listen to my group talk about their planned ride to top of the world while I continue my search for a battery. I call a shop north of Study Butte, "Ralph" answers and tells me he has batteries, but they're uncharged and will take at least 4 hours to get set up, then another hour to cool down. That's pretty much my day, but at least I'll get home. But, then, TJ shows up with a battery just for me, we get it hooked up and suddenly I'm in business again, spirits back at full. I gear up, grab gas, get in touch with my group and after a short solo ride out the east leg of the top of the world loop, we are reunited once again.
This did mean I missed out on the peak, but I was just happy to be operational again. We take a detour on the way back and hit some wonderfully alienic vistas, with some of the best pictures I've ever taken.
So, we finish it out, grab some BBQ, shower and head to the banquet to talk to everyone, with stories to spare. The campfire that night was especially warm and friendly, and I crawled into my tent and crossed my fingers for the ride home, which would be just me, my camping gear and my KLR650 for at least 8 hours.
And that's my Big Bend Adventure. Oh, well, except that the KLR wasn't done causing me anxiety. I rocketed along i10 for hours at the highest speed I could without eating oil, making it all the way to Junction, TX, and parked at the McDonald's parking lot. After raising my cholesterol levels, I get back on and hit the starter button. It cranks once and dies.
I'm about sure that I just sat there and stared at my bike for about 45 seconds. I knew my insurance covered towing, but I was trying to remember what that mileage limit was...I remember 200, but was that round trip? I dialed Allstate, and as I was sifting through the "Press 1 for English," I see someone walking out of the McDonalds that looks familiar...actually, it looks like Richard Gibbons. I yell "RICH!" with about as much desperation as I could manage. He catches me and magically, we hatch a plan to load his KTM on his truck and my KLR on his trailer. He graciously trucks me, my gear and my bike home, even feeds me dinner. (Side note, thanks again Rich if you're reading this).
I get home, we unload the bike, I shove it in my apartment rented garage and I try to relax as much as I can. Mextrek is coming up in April and I now don't have a bike to take, as this was about the last straw with this KLR.
I've never known a community like this. Every issue I had or even mentioned under my breath, I've had twenty people trying to help, offering their equipment and gear without wanting anything (well, sometimes a beer or two) in return. Thank you to everyone who took care of me, helped, offered to help, or even just offered to share a drink or two with me. I'll be around.
P.S., Rich, if you're still reading, I'll offer a ran-when-parked '82 KZ650 and/or '93 KLR650 for those KLX's we talked about....
Marky Mark- Great recap and photo content! Those are some really good images you took.
Enjoyed helping you out and sharing a beer/fire/coffee at the campsite.
Jimmy
. That was my line for my broken clavicle.
