My father once said, “Having four-wheel drive means you have the ability to get into trouble you can’t fix, farther away from help.”
I was young and full of myself, so I had to prove the truth of this statement. I did. It wasn’t fun.
I’ve since come to realize that Dad’s pronouncement on four wheel drive vehicles was an expression of a wider principle. I’ll sum it up a bit later.
When I back came to mountain biking, in the 1980s, it had developed a great deal. Gone were the makeshifts of my childhood and youth. In their place where the purpose built, refined vehicles, bicycles specifically designed and built for off-road use. I quickly learned that I had a lot to earn. But the process was a lot of fun. I got better, and with improvement in skill and knowledge, I got bolder. I ventured farther and farther afield. I would go out with almost anyone, or no one. I was willing to try almost anything.
Came the day when I was well into the truly deep woods and mountains of the southern Appalachians. I was alone, and having a great time. I was exploring a trail I hadn’t been on before. There was little evidence of visitation by the local off road riders. The deeper and higher I went, the less sign I saw of recent riders.
The day was spectacular. It was mid-Fall, and breathtaking in color, bright in sun, with just a hint of cool to the air. I quickly discovered that the instructions I’d been given were a bit optimistic. Every landmark and turn was about twice as far apart as my directions indicated. Not a problem. I adjusted for it. But, I was a good bit more than the promised seven miles when I crested the gap pass. In fact I was more like 15 miles into the trip. The day was growing late. My directions promised that I would be out of the woods in another five miles. (It would turn out to be over ten.) I was having a great time, as the sun sank toward the western horizon. I was going down now, and it was fun!
I missed a turn, hidden under the deep accumulation of fallen leaves, and went a good mile off course before I realized it. The double back was okay. But by that time the late afternoon was beginning to cool a bit. Then I missed the main trail, and went even farther off course, necessitating yet another double back. Time to get this thing done.
I was bucketing down a good steep slope when things happened. The surface was sketchy on the turn. The rear wheel washed. I over-corrected, and was entering the next turn too wide. I hit the brakes, and the bike slid. I lost it the trail and was bounce-whopping through the woods, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control. There was a sudden, and unseen drop off. I was in the air, completely unready for it, and without any choice of a landing site. That landing was against a rather large, and completely unyielding rock. The bike stopped and I went flying.
After I checked myself over for injuries, and found nothing worse than some scrapes and bumps, I crawled back up to the bike. The front wheel was fairly well bent out of shape. It wouldn’t pass the brakes. I went to work. Some field-expedient repairs later, I managed to get the wheel straight enough to roll, but I had to completely disable the brake to let it clear. (Note to self: Keep speed down.) I recovered the trail, and managed about another half mile or so before the rear tire went flat. Must have picked up a thorn during the off-trail excursion.
No problem. I had a spare tube and a pump. I set to work.
Problem! The pump didn’t seem to want to work. {Seems I’d never used it before.} I sat down and went to work on the pump. I managed to get the thing apart. I found the problem, a pinched O-ring, and fixed it as best I could. It wasn’t easy, but I did manage to get some air into the tire. Not a lot, but enough to ride on… Sort of.
The second flat, on the front tire, caught me off guard. I didn’t have another spare. I didn’t have a patch kit.
I tried a couple of makeshift repairs. None held. (I’d read about, and heard about these techniques, but had never experienced them.) So… Time to start walking.
At the time of this incident, I had yet to acquire my first cell phone. I doubt that there is coverage in that area today. It’s that remote.
As I walked, I cooled. The sun was touching the mountains to the west of me. The temp was dropping. I was hungry, and low on water. (I’d already put my jacket back on.) I was stiffening up from the scrapes and bumps. Bike shoes are not good for hiking. It was getting dusky.
I lost the light while I was working my way across the lower slopes of the mountain. I was pretty sure there was a road below me. Once I found it, a left turn and a “two mile” hike would get me back to my truck. It was completely dark. I had to mostly feel my way down. (In retrospect, there are about a dozen ways that moving like that could have cost me a serious injury.) I had little means of making a camp, even an improvised one. I had no means of making a fire. I was getting cold!
After an eternity, I found the road. By tripping over it and falling flat. That was when I made one of the wiser decisions of the day. I pushed the bike back up into the woods, and then started hiking along the road without it. Eventually, I found my way back to my truck. From there on, the story got a bit better.
1) If you are going to be an inconvenient, or dangerous separation from help, be certain that you have the means at your hand to get back.
2) If you don’t know how to use it, and to fix it when it breaks, don’t depend on it.
3) Test and practice all means of emergency repair. (The emergency is not the time to learn to operate it, or puzzle out the procedures.)
2) If you don’t know how to use it, and to fix it when it breaks, don’t depend on it.
3) Test and practice all means of emergency repair. (The emergency is not the time to learn to operate it, or puzzle out the procedures.)
4) Always carry a "walk out" light, and spare batteries.
5) Don’t “ride crazy” when you are alone.