Dry Dock

Waxing Crescent Moon

I will definitely return to Lava Beds National Monument - probably not on a bike, but I'll be back for sure. There are so many places I want to explore and a vehicle is pretty much required.

Yesterday's ride up to Indian Well Campground was hot and hilly, turning into hot and steep toward the end. At one point I looked over and saw the snow-covered top of Mt. Shasta poking up on the horizon.

But eventually, the heat and hills got to me. I was bonked with two miles to go, just on the edge of dehydration, so I pulled over near the turnoff to Merrill Cave. That's when Ranger Evan showed up in his SUV patrol vehicle. He asked me if I was okay. I said, "I am old is how I am," and we had a good laugh. We both knew I was done for the day.

He told me to wait while he went to "wrangle a pickup truck." Oddly enough, just moments before, I was hoping a pickup truck might stop by. Ranger Evan (was he a real Ranger or was he an angel in clever disguise?) returned in about ten minutes driving a Ford 250 double cab.

Those suckers are huge. The bed of the truck was at least waist high on me and for whatever reason, the latch wouldn't open the tailgate. No matter, Ranger Evan dead lifted the fully loaded Dream Machine up and over into the truck bed and set it gently on its side. It was sort of supernatural. I did what is called "a double-take" at that occurrence. Whaaaaat? The rails of the truck bed were at eye level. Ranger Evan is no bigger than me. Ranger Evan is about twenty-five. Ranger Evan is not to be messed with.

After that little trick, he drove up over the pass past the Visitor Center and dropped me off at site B-11 in the Indian Well Campground. He then casually extricated the Dream Machine and prescribed prolonged rest in the shade of the junipers. Good idea. To top it off, a few minutes later he returned with a bottle of (red...nobody's perfect) Gatorade and a water to boot. This is public service at its best...or a minor miracle...you decide for yourself.

He was gone a few minutes when my neighbor from B-12 waltzed over with a little bowl of pistachios and twenty questions. None of her questions, bless her happy, well-meaning soul, were yes-or-no answerable. This required some fancy thinking on the part of my dehydrated brain - I'm not sure I made any sense - she gave up soon enough with the invitation to come on over to B-12 after I got un-dehydrated. It really doesn't work like that, you know, but I couldn't explain it. She and her husband are super-nice folks from San Jose. I did recover enough by the evening to stop by and thank them.

The sunset was awesome and there were zero mosquitos. I slept like a big chunk of vesicular basalt.

The sunrise was also awesome.

I was out of camp by 7 a.m. and cruising toward Tionesta, home of the Hawk's Nest RV Park.  It only took a couple of hours on mainly flat, deserted Forest Roads to get settled in their tent camping area, shower, hook up to the WiFi, and hunker down for a nero day.

Full days for me now are about 25-30 miles. Neros are 15 - half of what they were  just a few years ago. Am I sad about that? Not really. I'm thrilled to be out here, rolling along, seeing new places, meeting good people. I will do it until I can't do it any more. And I will gladly accept the help of angels when it comes my way.

Peace, Love, and Lava,
Jim