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Texans Utahing 500s for a 1000 Yeehaws

Always have a backup plan. We had two things going against us. First was gas range. Thanks to KTM’s infinite wisdom on the newer 500 change to the frame and plastics, largest tank you can get is right at 4 gallons, that is what nephew has. My old XCW is rocking a 5.3g tank. Hite gas pumps had been out of commission as of a week before our trip, and no change today, you can’t count on them.

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With the Hite issue, we needed 5.1 gallons with no deviations or turn arounds to stick to the original route. The rest of our trip we will not have issues, so we did not want to carry gas in a more permanent way. We own stuff to do it, but this trip we needed to be light. We got creative with Gatorade bottles, so we could ditch the containers as soon as the gas would fit in the tank. Gas sort of solved……but we also have another issue we have been keeping our eye on.

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In my route planning, did some research on the Dirty Devil crossing in the Poison Springs area. I found good intel on ADV Rider, and using the USGS web site on CFS. Seems anything below 50 or 60 CFS, we will be fine most likely. I was feeling good looking at September historical numbers. Then a week before our trip started, the Dirty Devil flooded over the historic record set in 1963, CFS was off the chart in the thousands. Yikes, what were the odds? We weren’t necessarily worried about water at this point a week later, desert floods tend to boogie on out. More worried about the shape of the things out there. And with no gas in Hite….I hate to miss my original plan of the Hatch Mountains, but my gut told me time for plan B.

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Shootaring, Eggnog Star, Hoskinny…..the folks naming these roads must do a lot of peyote.

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This is some wild country. Loving the remoteness and aggressive riding. Plan B wasn’t a total loss. Except we couldn’t find any peyote.

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And some more non-sucking plan b. Pretty cool in here.

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We did some pretty tough stuff, heat and fatigue were trying to set in, wouldn’t have it. We shook it off and headed for the mountains.

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Two to three thousand feet does wonders. We took a break and started riding in air conditioning flirting with 9k. And started looking down on the desert, in a good way.

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Mares eat oats, does eat oats and a little lambs eat ivy, a kid’ll eat ivy too, wouldn’t you!

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Found ourselves at McMillan Springs and decided to make camp. Originally planned a hotel for tonight, alternating camping/motels is a nice way to roll. Makes it easier to be high speed low drag……minimal gear maximum effect…..with a reset. But this route was this route, gotta roll with it.

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We are enjoying the evening, relaxing, listening, imbibing, lying. Normal motorcycle evening shenanigans.

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Nighty night night

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I’m gonna wake you up early cause I’m gonna take a ride with you. We’re going down to the KTM shop, I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. Cough up ten thousand dollars, I’ll take you anywhere you want me to.

First gear, kickstand fell off. Second gear, fuel pump cutting out. Third gear, rocker arm sounds funny. Faster, it’s all right!!!

-----edit------did nobody catch that this was a spoof on the song Little Honda?

Ride report is caught up….stay tuned for more melodies with gratuitous fortuitous circuitous meandering.

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We slept in a bit, I was dreaming about climbing the hills like a mattress, cause my KTM’s built really light. Woke up, ate a sawdust bar and suckled a Dr Pepper as the day came alive.

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We rolled out of there at the crack of 9am. My body was letting me know that this is third day you are asking me to do this. Yes, yes it is, shutup.

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Good morning world. I like that area where the desert and the mountains can’t make up their minds who is in charge.

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We told them, showed them, 5HUNDY is in charge you dumb dummy!!

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We got into a sneaker wash. This area was still hammered with recent rain. Really wanted to do this, but it kept getting worse…..

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And then a bit of a show stopper with obstacles and quick sand type stuff.

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We tip toed back out to make sure and keep our charades going for the rest of the week. No heroes here, the journey is more important than the conquest.

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We needed to get out of this ravaged area from the recent flooding. Decided to eat some pavement and get out of this zone, not bad as far as pavement goes.

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In the metropolis of Bicknell at the moment, reset/restock, then back out into the woods.

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Cruising in the woods, intermittently hitting some atv trails, Gooseberry Creek area. Made me think of snozzberries. I’m sorry, I will stop with the references…..someday.

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We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.

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This stuff was like a dream. Smooth riding at altitude.

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We cut the day short and headed down from the mountains.

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Well we only rode from 9 to 4 and landed in a town, I’m calling it our day off ha ha. Hello Salina. Hello cold beers. Hello hot shower. Oh you soft bed you! Another night in the bush got double vetoed. But we had to leave the girls outside.

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In vino veritas….telling our stories from today (making fun of each other) and discussing our options for tomorrow (crying a little inside).
 

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People, we live in a world that has dirt. And that dirt has to be ridden and then reported on. Who’s gonna do it? You? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep while riding a lot of pavement. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that riding on primarily pavement, while tragic, probably saves your life. And my reporting on a dirt existence and trailering, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, entertains dirtbags. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about while sitting behind a big wind screen, you want me in the dirt, you need me in the dirt. We use words like knobby, clutch, wheelie. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent riding dirt. I have neither the time, nor the inclination to explain myself to slab riders, that rise and sleep with the very reporting of dirt freedom I provide, and then question the manner in which I ride it. I’d rather you just say ‘thank you’ and go on your pie run. Otherwise I suggest you mount up and ride point offroad. Either way, I don’t give a **** how much fun you have on pavement.

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We follow orders. We follow orders or people ride mostly pavement. It’s that simple. You have a question……if I gave the order to ride dirt, and my orders are always followed, did we ride the dirt? You **** right I ordered the dirt.

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Are we clear?

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Crystal.

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We were strolling through some Manti-La Sal NF stuff as seen in the gitmo after action report. We did a mix of regular forest roads and atv trails. We were cold, but it felt really good, riding above 10K on quite a bit of it, this is good stuff.

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But cold Dr Pepper in the middle of nowhere, priceless.

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Pretty fun green riding, few more pics.

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And then stumbled onto to this mad TATer that had been giving the BMW X a work out. His battery was toast from killing it/coming up this hill. Said he couldn’t bump start it, tire would lock up. I tried it, thinking his buck o five wasn’t enough, I got signs of life with my **** but the low 11.2 voltage must have been making things mad.

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he/we got lucky and a random quad guy helped with some cables. Smell ya later Holmes, 5 Hundies rolling out.

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Got in that tweener zone again, green giving way to brown but not fully.

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Just got gas in the town of Emery Cloth, and will sand our way back into no man’s land on some pretty fun brown riding. Restaurant here could be better.

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We were riding down a long and lonesome road. All of a sudden, there spun a spinning 500, in the middle, of the road. And he said, ride the best trails in the world or I’ll beat your souls.

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Well me and Grape looked at each other, and we each said, okay. And we rode the first thing that came to a head, just so happened to be, the best trail in the world, it was the best trail in the world.

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Look into my eyes and it’s easy to see one and one makes two wheels, two and one is the year, it was destiny.

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Once every five hundred CCs or so when the clutch lets go, the tire doth spin and the ground doth fly and the sun shines.

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Needless to say, the 500 was spun. Whip-crack went his whippy tail, and the 500 came undone.

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He asked us, be you angels, and we said nay, we are but men…..rocks! Ah, ah, ah, oh wo, ayo!

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And the peculiar thing is this my friends, the trail we rode that fateful day, it didn’t look anything like these pictures! This is just a tribute! You gotta believe me, and I wish you were there, just a matter of opinion. Alright! Alright!

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Some of you may have no idea what that last rant was about, sorry, you must not hang out with your nephew much listening to his music. Ok, maybe I am getting down right Tenacious. We are a little battle worn and you have to shift a gear in your head, and being shifty is something we excel at.

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Come on baby make it hurt so good. Now that I’m getting older, oh so much older, I long for those young boy days.

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Made me think of something I saw in a t-shirt shop years ago…..the beatings will continue until morale improves. I love it.

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My sidekick….not sure.

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When in doubt, continue the beatings, I mean riding.

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We beat cheeks to Green River and there was some kind of tractor beam…..the 500s pulled on the reins to a tavern. We didn’t argue, they are usually spot on. Horses watered, we are heading back out into the bush to a super duper sneaker camp site. Stay thirsty my friends!

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Why did he throw his bike down like that? She must have really been sassing him! Did it work, did she stop? I doubt it!
 
We planned to gingerly go to the sneaker camp, fully loaded down with enough liquids to subdue a small donkey. It’s a sneaker camp after all right, probably easy? Well…..

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“We can do it, stay the course, our buddy wouldn’t steer us wrong.”

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Junior, when we get outta here, remind me to slap your buddy in the mouff.

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GPS shows us pulling away from the river, stay the course. Yes, for real for real.

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Ok, ok……maybe it was worth it.

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Just maybe.

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And then……behold a white (and orange) KTM, and he that sat on him had an adjustafork; and a crown was given unto him ADV-F roast lord and he went forth eating, and to eat.

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And when in Roam…mode…..after a day on the trail…..drinking man drinks is part of being a gladiator. Uva uvam vivendo varia fit.

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Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?

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Burned the meat, drank the drink, told the tales. Brothers, what we do in life echoes for eternity.

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And don’t forget what happened to the man who suddenly bought a 500, he lived happily ever after.

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We were riding down a long and lonesome road. All of a sudden, there spun a spinning 500, in the middle, of the road. And he said, ride the best trails in the world or I’ll beat your souls.

1631660108955.jpeg


Well me and Grape looked at each other, and we each said, okay. And we rode the first thing that came to a head, just so happened to be, the best trail in the world, it was the best trail in the world.

1631661566857.jpeg


Look into my eyes and it’s easy to see one and one makes two wheels, two and one is the year, it was destiny.

1631662188697.jpeg


Once every five hundred CCs or so when the clutch lets go, the tire doth spin and the ground doth fly and the sun shines.

1631662210713.jpeg


Needless to say, the 500 was spun. Whip-crack went his whippy tail, and the 500 came undone.

1631662265136.jpeg


He asked us, be you angels, and we said nay, we are but men…..rocks! Ah, ah, ah, oh wo, ayo!

1631661606819.jpeg


And the peculiar thing is this my friends, the trail we rode that fateful day, it didn’t look anything like these pictures! This is just a tribute! You gotta believe me, and I wish you were there, just a matter of opinion. Alright! Alright!

1631660191280.jpeg


1631660327693.jpeg


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Some of you may have no idea what that last rant was about, sorry, you must not hang out with your nephew much listening to his music. Ok, maybe I am getting down right Tenacious. We are a little battle worn and you have to shift a gear in your head, and being shifty is something we excel at.

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Come on baby make it hurt so good. Now that I’m getting older, oh so much older, I long for those young boy days.

1631660397237.jpeg


Made me think of something I saw in a t-shirt shop years ago…..the beatings will continue until morale improves. I love it.

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My sidekick….not sure.

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When in doubt, continue the beatings, I mean riding.

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We beat cheeks to Green River and there was some kind of tractor beam…..the 500s pulled on the reins to a tavern. We didn’t argue, they are usually spot on. Horses watered, we are heading back out into the bush to a super duper sneaker camp site. Stay thirsty my friends!

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Wait - Coors light even in paradise? Seriously?
 
Rolled out of Green River heading for goodness. I love the smell of the desert air and motor exhaust in the morning, smells like…….dirt and gas.

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We meandered in a sort of Tenmile direction, wiggling our way, technical stuff, canyons, washes, rock climbs, sand. You know, general Yeehawwing about.

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This area is under the gun for possible closure. Glad I was able to see it. I guess the people thinking about closing it aren’t members of CANE, Citizens Against Natural Erosion. According to the presiding high council, the premise is mother nature does way more damage in single events than the typical folks out here in the middle of nowhere riding for morale improvements. Oh captain, oh captain, carpe diem!!!

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The day, seize it we did. Something about white washing a dead cow we must.

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We played in the sand box for a bit.

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I like keeping my toys clean. Grape is one of those kids that likes to cram his toys into the sand.

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This next move is pretty advanced, most of you probably aren’t at this level. I call it the Mikhail Baryshnikov.

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Shade, commodity out here.

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Tubing our way through the deluge. Stay on target, stay on target.


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And some river running, big cliff in the first pic has canoes on bottom right…..and more shade in second pic, good lunch spot.

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Some of the water holes were pretty deep. The 5hundys needed all the help they could get cooling off.

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And we needed some cool off help as well, getting pretty wiped out. Riding these trails with big gas tanks and loaded down bikes in the heat really zapped us. Had to call an all stop for about an hour and cool ourselves down on the cooler rocks.

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Low on energy, low on water, time to head for Moab.

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I’ve been there a few times, jeep type trips. It’s been a minute, last time was 2012 in your basic Jeep JK. I beg your pardon, I never promised you a Rose Garden, Hill.

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First time out here was in 2008 in a not so basic Jeep YJ. It was like being in a video game, with flippers and things.

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I was going to ride a dirt bike on one of the days that first trip, on your basic XR and I did…..for about 10 minutes. Grape Ape decided to play one flew over the cuckoo’s nest on his DR400 that morning. Then took a second flight.

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That is changing my friends. Howdy Moab, it’s me Stevo, on 2 wheels! And the nest flyer is back as well!!

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We grabbed an over priced motel, hot shower, cold drinks and pizza, we are coming back to life.

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Just told Grape good night. Good work. Sleep well. I will most likely kill us in the morning.
 

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Moving slow, literally, we are walking like Timmy after he gets blown off the fence.

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Gotta get the mind right, doggone it. We got to lock in our heart for this next section in the basin. Once more unto the breach.

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Ready. To The Pain. Let me explain. First thing you will feel will be your feet at the ankles. Then your hands at the wrist. Next dust in your left eye, followed by your right. I wasn’t finished. The next thing you will lose is the feeling in your butt. Oh, I suppose next is the feeling in my ears. WRONG!! Your hearing you will keep and I’ll tell you why. So that every shriek of every other rider at seeing your hideous riding will be yours to cherish. Every bike guy that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, “Dear God! What line is that,” will echo in your helmet. That is what to the pain means. It means we leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever……..or until we make it back out of the basin and can report some more.

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I’ll be here waiting on your return from the basin.
 
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