Burros in the Sand

Today I had just enough time for a quick jaunt to Ironwood Forest National Monument, which, incidentally, not being staffed in the first place, isn’t affected by the government shutdown.  This time, Li’l Burro, ever curious, chose a new point of access - Manville Road.  It was a test ride of sorts, I with new pants*, he with new shoes.

Li'l Burro contemplates his cousins.

Yes, they even sang their sprightly, squeaky song for us.

Around here, grass is a photographable event.  Grainy, artsy style no extra charge.

Funny how the very moment you find yourself wallowing about in sand deep enough to make walking difficult, much less riding, or dragging your motorcycle out of it, is the same moment you realize you should be headed back home getting ready for your gig.

When I have a successful fall, I like to spring up, hands in air**, legs together, back arched, like a 15 year old gymnast – front!, left!, right! – just to emphasize the cleverness of my little trick.  Ten!

*I’d been putting off buying a pair of riding pants better suited for Li’l Burro, because I’d been hoping Olympia Moto Sports would make their X Moto suit for women.  “Are ya gonna make it for 2013?  Huh? Huh?  How ‘bout 2014?”  The answer remains a steadfast, “No.”  But since I seem to be putting my street leathers at risk in the dirt and mud, I broke down and bought a pair of Firstgear TPG Escape Pants (what a name!) on clearance.  Not quite what I wanted, but they work, and fit perfectly.  I’m pretty sure I got the last pair of size 6 in the universe.
** I totally stole Pilot Guy's moves here.  And I'm keepin' 'em.

Frogs Legs and Orange Peels in Unexplored Corners (Las Cienegas NCA/Empire Ranch)

I’ve been quite enjoying some unassuming little Yamaha jaunts to unexplored corners of oft traveled territories lately.    So often, I ride right on by those tantalizing brown signs that direct my attention to roads less traveled.  There is never enough time, and, frankly, I’ve not been equipped with the wheels or the inclination to travel off asphalt until recently.  So, while I’ve ridden around and about Sonoita, AZ countless times, today was my first foray into Las Cienegas National Conservation Area and Empire Ranch.

Wrap some high desert grasslands over rolling hills and you have my favorite landscape ever. It reminds me of the Tuscan countryside, and while it may not be Chianti, there's wine growing in them there hills. Surely with some judicious spitting it could (and should!) be safely explored in depth via motorbike.  I'm adding "tastevin" to my list of essential tank bag items.
 


Thoughts of wine aside, where there’s water, there’s a “cottonwood gallery”…
 


… and -kerplunk! – a flash of outstretched gangly legs in mid-flight confirmed it – frogs.  And turtles.  “Las Cienegas” means "marshland” and this spot fits the bill.  Frogs and turtles are always a delight, but the experience in a desert setting is elevated to miraculous.  And bizarre.    The Frog Conservation Project appears to be taking advantage of the habitat by raising a breeding population of the native Chiricahua Leopard Frog in special enclosures seen along the Heritage Trail.  I’m not sure if the free-ranging frogs I saw were Leopard Frogs, but knowing they might be, and that they’re a designated threatened species, I felt just a teeny bit guilty when my mind turned to childhood meals of cuisse de grenouilles meuniere* enjoyed long ago in rural France.

“Empire Gulch” also sports greens so tender and delicate, they rival those of my CSA farm share. So many temptations in this little spot!

 




The Empire Ranch House (under restoration) was cool and comfortable despite outdoor temps in the 90’s.  It has been a working ranch (over one million acres!) since the 1860’s.  A tense moment with cows on the road proved the point that the ranch is still very much in operation.





And in a culinary version of “how fast can I go before I crash?”, last night I learned just how far can I take candied orange peels before they solidify into one single orange misshapen sugar cube.  My original intent was to cover them in bittersweet chocolate, but unadorned, they are rugged enough to withstand the rigors of motorcycle travel.  Zingy-sweet in the mouth!




* Yes. Frogs legs.  Dusted in flour and fried up.  I loved them as a kid, and I bet I’d love them now.  I admit, I’m smacking my lips at the thought of it.

Reuniting with Old Friends: Texas Hill Country on the Kawasaki

Here I am, astride my Kawasaki for the very first time.

It sure looked a lot more shiny then.  And not an inch of packing tape (my secret repair weapon) anywhere to be seen.

I was in Texas, picking it up after what seemed like an eternity.  I bought it in off of Craig’s List in November of 2005, but didn’t have the time off to pick it up until Jan of 2006.  During that lengthy interim, it was held in safekeeping by the very person who piqued my interest in motorcycles in the first place.

True, I’m not wearing much in the way of safety gear, but this moment was strictly a photographic opportunity.  My first lesson on my new-to-me motorcycle was not riding it, but learning to pick it up.  I do have a photo of the baptismal (for me and the bike) voyage around that neighborhood, and even some video footage, but the borrowed suit I was wearing is just the outfit I’d need if I was auditioning for the kick line dance number of “Star Wars: The Broadway Revival.” You can't exactly blame me for not sharing it with you.

And, lo!, here I am, almost six years later to the day!

Sporting not just my old bike, but my old jacket, kevlar jeans (first time I've ever ridden more than 2 miles not wearing full leathers - kinda gave me the heebie-jeebies) and a really old helmet, not worn since before I even knew how to ride. But there's only so much you can pack in a carry on.  Not quite so shiny now, but my Kawi is a faithful machine, and I love it for that.

I hadn’t ridden (under my own power) in Texas since that very first day, although I have enjoyed Texas Hill Country more times than I can count from passenger seat.  My old Kawasaki recently moved back to its homeland, so now, when I visit, I have wheels!  Last week, I got to enjoy hill country on my own for a few hours.  I still haven’t dined at the Grey Moss Inn, or seen the spring time blooming of blue bonnets, but I got what I was after that day.  The legendary “Twisted Sisters”, aka “The 300’s,” aka TX 337, 335 and 336.  Knowing what I know now, I’m not sure they deserve the adjective legendary, (the turns are wonderful to be sure, but perhaps a little too few and far between to be classified as top tier riding, although I don’t hesitate to recommend them if you’re in the area), but then again, I’m awfully spoiled with good motorcycle roads at my disposal.

Hill Country is loaded with deer.  I mean, just look at them here at my gas stop.  Seriously, it's not unusual to see 10 or 20 just walking to the mailbox, so be careful out there, fellow riders.

And what fun to be on the old Kawasaki again! It was feeling good with a sorely needed new chain and sprocket set (installed by its new caretaker – even better!), and I found myself enjoying all its modern conveniences.  A center stand!  A sensible diet of regular octane fuel!  An old fashioned analog dash! (In my opinion, they give so much more info at a glance than the silly digital read-outs of 21st century vehicles.  I’ve found the rev-limiter on the Ducati more than once, but I still couldn’t tell you where indeed the red-line actually lies.)  Functioning turn signals and horn!  (No, I haven’t solved the Ducati fuse blowing problem, not that I’ve tried all that hard.)  A clutch lever that fits my little hand! (I can barely reach the friction zone on the Duc, despite its adjustable levers, and even now, it’s rather disconcerting in certain situations.)  An ergonomic-to-me gear shifter!  (The one on the Duc is raised, since I tend to scrape it when cornering aggressively, which really isn’t ideal at all.  Which means I can give myself a Charley horse shifting the Duc from first to second.  I actually DID that yesterday.  Ow!)  There is one thing on the Ducati that fits me better than the Kawi, though.  The throttle.

300 mile day trip to ride the "300's Loop."  Wish I had had time to repeat the loop and explore other areas.  Next visit!