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SDAMC Annual T-Shirt Ride 2002
©
Kevin
Sisterson 2002
The day before the T-shirt
ride I heard that Engineer Rd. was closed and I thought about
whether or not we’d even be able to have the ride.
I ditched the 40 maps that I had printed and pulled out
the Thomas Bros. to look at alternate routes.
Frank had mentioned that he recently went down
Kitchen Creek Rd. and although there were a few potholes it was
paved. I have
planned some routes in the past that look real good on the map,
but have turned out to be 20-degree downhill dirt twisties. The
quaking bones of some of our elderly riders can't take that kind
of punishment without a requisite degree of complaint. I didn't
want this to be one of those rides,
but then again aren’t these
the ones everyone remembers? After all, this was our Annual
T-Shirt ride. Unusual events are the norm on this one.
I scribbled out the revised map on a few sheets of paper
and decided to go for it. We’ve been on just about every other
road in that area and what were we missing out on? Anyway, “We
Ride” is our slogan.
 I knew it was going to be
hot, and I decided to remove the big cow-catcher windshield on
the Victory. The next morning, Flinn
Springs was a beehive of activity, but only a few got anything
to eat. We waited
for our food for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, many of us simply hit the road without
breakfast. It was
obvious they weren’t prepared even though I called them the
previous Tuesday and warned them that 50 or so hungry motorcycle
enthusiasts would be swarming their establishment.
On the road, it was hot and I started unzipping every
pocket I had in my jacket to get some airflow going. I was glad
I’d removed the “cow-catcher” windshield on the Victory
the day before. The
long line of bikes parading up the hill on Dehesa road was a
sight to see. Riding
as I was at the end of the line, I could observe the group
shifting around to adapt to the different riding styles.
Ken had taken the lead from the Dehesa road
intersection on his Ice chest Gold wing and was expecting me to
take over. He was setting a fairly sedate pace, but soon opened
it up a bit to stretch out the group when he realized that I
couldn’t get back up to the front.
The heat came in waves. Unlike riding in a car you feel
the environment changing around you.
The valleys had pockets of warmth and downright heat and
felt like a blast furnace. Cresting
hills brought welcome, cool breezes. The tree-lined roads had
the dry scent of leaves and were slightly cooler. The vistas of
Dehesa and Japatul valley along the way were breathtaking.
As
we approached Interstate 8 the group was spread out over a mile
or so with everyone at comfortable distances from the rider
ahead. We
overwhelmed the gas stop in Pine Valley.
A few riders split off to take an alternate route, but
the rest of us were in for… Kitchen Creek road.
Old Highway 80 has some really nice concrete between
Sunrise Highway and La Posta:
a few curves at first with some oddly cracked concrete,
but it soon gives way to long straights in the valley and
sweepers over the hill to Kitchen Creek road.
If Old 80 has some interesting cracks, Kitchen Creek has
interesting crevasses.
The first part was marked with mounds of tar snakes.
Then, the patched concrete turned into asphalt at the
“paved road ends 400 ft” sign. It was supposed to be paved
all the way up, but I’m not sure what they meant by paved.
There were big potholes and ribbons of asphalt in places
for a road, certainly not a road you’d be dragging your knee
on.
As
we gained in elevation the meadows turned to Alpine forest. At
the back of the pack Bob’s Triumph stalled with battery
problems, and required a lift from the chase truck.
Somewhere along the way Pete's Norton also gave up the
ghost and he was picked up later.
Heading
north on Sunrise Highway, we crested the hill and the
temperature dropped about 15 degrees.
However, the forest looked a bit dry. The deciduous trees
were already beginning to yellow, and the pines seemed a bit
brown. Since we only had only about six inches of rain in 18
months it was no wonder why.
The
shade-lined highway gave occasional desert and meadow views
until it looked like a bulldozer carved away half of the forest
and left behind ash from the fires. The left side of the highway
was green and the right side gray. The fire had been
extinguished through what must have been a tremendous battle.
The devastation on the right side of the highway lasted
at least 14 miles. Occasionally,
we could see firefighters digging through the clumps of ash
looking for hot spots. I
had to close my visor because I was getting particles of ash in
my eyes. There were
a few expansive views over the mountain and desert where the
decimation could be appreciated, almost as far as you could see
even the desert was burned; and the ash haze made it look like
that for farther than it really had burned.
Kentwood-in-the-Pines
was a welcome haven. Cabins
and small homes are tucked into the forest along the road.
The residents had all been asked to evacuate just a week
earlier as the fire line came to within a few miles of Julian.
The heroics of the fire fighters had really saved this
area.
Soon
the street in front of the Bishops retreat was filled with bikes
and the sounds of motorcycle enthusiasts bantering about and
sharing their cycling and experiences. I called for poker hands
and the last few cards were drawn. In between swilling copious
amounts of water, buying T shirts, and eating, everyone finally
managed to get their cards.
The Italian feast that John and Donna prepared was, as
usual, outstanding. Finally
after about 45 minutes I was able to tally the hands and call
for prizes. The high hand prize of $90 went to Robert, and the
low prize of $45 went to one of the San Diego Motorcyclist
riders. The Aerostich neck warmer went to one of our own.
As
it goes with Poker runs, as soon as the prizes are given out the
bikes begin to stream away in groups. Although warm, even hot at
times, there wasn’t a better way to spend a day.
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