I was going to swear off riding at Big Bear on weekends for the rest of this summer, due to how crowded it has gotten this year. But it has been so hot during the last few days, and the weather report gave the San Bernardino moutains a good chance of rain for Sunday....so I woke up early, loaded Mr. 501 onto the Jeep, and off I went. When I arrived at my usual parking spot, there were other vehicles there, including the same 5th wheeler that must come up all the time, because these people have been there every time I have come up so far this summer. I drove in a ways, and parked. The sun was beating down, and the air was heavy with humidity as I suited up to ride. It was disappointing, but still cooler than any other place I could go trail riding in Southern California. Beside, there were some clouds in the sky, including the little round fluffy ones that usually grow and grow, until they become a full blown thunderstorm. I always have faith in these little cotton balls, as they seldom ever fail to deliver. I hit the road to get to my first trail head, and the temperature didn't feel too bad at speed. More clouds gathered after I had been on the dirt route for an hour. B y the time I reached 3N016, it was sullenly overcast with a few drops of moisture starting to sprinkle out of the sky. The temperature must have dropped by ten degrees, and the ground was looking sort of damp. There were puddles left from the Saturday storm. Not too many people out. I guess the weather scared most of them off. By the time I reached Arctic Canyon trail, it was a light and steady rain. The forest smelled so good, and the dirt was perfect. My 501 was one with the universe for this type of riding. I suddenly felt so energized by the wonderful, cool conditions, that I decided to revisit one old trail that I hadn't ridden on in 7 years. It was a great reunion to be on that trail. I connected with another trail that would take me towards Fawnskin. While riding down this trail, a bolt of lightening sliced down up ahead. I started counting, as I often do....one thousand one....one thousand two....BOOM! Man, that was close! I sped up, hoping not to get struck, or at least get through the storm front area as quickly as possible. Once I was back to the pavement, I headed for Big Bear, hoping to stop for a snack. The rain got heavier, the wind started to come up and there was a bit of hail mixed in. There was a traffic jam too, so I turned onto Mill Creek road, and headed up into the forest once more. The rain subsided into a gentle sprinkle once more. I roamed around up there for a while, stopping to rest at Skyline and Radford Camp road, before heading down the south face of the mountain. On this side of the mountain the sun was shining again, and it looked like the storm never even touched that area. I wanted to take the river road back to the staging area, but it had been washed out in many places the year before, and hadn't been completely restored yet. I rode along, enjoying the greenery and water, until I got to the wash out where the river had overflowed its channel and had cut a new one right where the road had been, maybe 100 feet. There were a couple of trucks there, and some guys walking around, looking at the washout. Earlier in the year, Mike, his friend Dave and I all looked at the crossing on our way back to the trucks too. But it was colder weather, and I was really tired from inactivity at the time. Falling down in cold water wasn't such an appealing thought to me, so we doubled back to the midline trail and rode back that way. Yesterday, with a small audience egging me on, I decided to ride it. It wasn't deep at all, but I was concerned about the slipperiness of the rocks, or how solid the riverbed was. Some young guy rode up on a Japanese trailbike, quickly made a u-turn and left. One of the guys standing there said, "well, there's one that chickened out". At that moment, I made the decision to cross. I would have to ride upstream most of the way, and decided that the left hand margin of the water channel would offer the best traction and navigation. It turned out to be a piece of cake. I turned around to look, and my small audience was pleased. They were giving the thumbs up. I waved at them and rode off, soon completing the last stretch of dirt, before a short sprint on the highway to the staging spot. It was a perfect day of riding. 85 miles of meandering. The weather gave me lots of energy. My bike performed flawlessly. The dirt was wet and afforded tremendous traction. I rode well and had a wonderful time. This summer has not been to generous with perfect riding conditions, as some other summers in the past have been, so this was a day to cherish and remember.
