Never Ride Alone

This post is a little long, but hey, it's four days in Pipestone Paradise! 

What am I supposed to do when I get sick less than 24 hours before a long-awaited and much-anticipated camping trip? Go anyway, of course! After leaving work half-way through my shift on Tuesday night, I told Dan that the trip was definitely still on! If I was going to be sick and miserable in bed, I could do it just as well in the camper out in nature as I could at home. Fortunately, I did feel a little better Wednesday morning, and though slightly delayed, we reached Pipestone OHV Area by afternoon. We even had time after setting up the camper to take a short ride. I was happy to be hungry again by dinnertime (even though it was just chicken noodle soup). After all, I would hate to miss out on all that terrible "camping food" -- you know, perfectly-grilled rib eye steaks, exotic salads, and jambalya. 

Spring has sprung. 

The rest of our party left Laurel on Thursday morning, which gave us time to do a brief photography run before they arrived. (Despite what some of our friends might say, we do attempt to rein in the impulse to reach for the camera constantly when riding with others.) History abounds in Pipestone, and we found and photographed plenty of relics large and small. 

A kiln, perhaps? 

Dan earned a new nickname on this trip: Chainsaw!

We returned to the camper just before the others arrived. After setting up and eating lunch, we debated where to ride. We settled on the trail to Whitetail Reservoir. We have ridden this trail before, so we were not overly concerned at the sign stating "expert riders only." The ride began sedately enough, despite having to clear an occasional downed tree or navigate a tight turn. We took a quick break at an abandoned logging(?) truck, then pressed onward. We were now at a high enough altitude to encounter snowdrifts here and there. We eventually came to a fork in the road, and after consulting Dan's GPS and Grif's extensive knowledge of the area, we took the right fork. Well, right as in right-hand, NOT right as in correct. (Mom, Pam, Ashley, and Amy, you might want to skip to the next paragraph at this point...) This is where things got a little hairy. As we slid down some steep, rocky, snow-covered inclines, Dawn and I kept saying, "We are NOT coming back this way, right?" Little did we know... Progress was slow, but determined. Unfortunately, we soon came to a point where Grif realized that we were not where we were supposed to be. It was also a point where going forward was pretty much out of the question. So, yes, now we were retracing our track and hoping that we could indeed get back up those steep, rocky, snow-covered inclines. It took us about an hour and a half (and chains, and tow-ropes, and winches) to get back to the fork in the road (probably less than a mile). Somewhere along the way, Rick made the comment that situations like these are exactly why one should never ride alone. Any one of us by ourselves might well still be up on the mountain. 

We set off once more on the proper trail. Despite stopping to clear a few more trees and fording some really deep creeks and puddles, we barely beat the dark back to the campers. As we savored our 10 pm supper, we congratulated ourselves on being expert riders, and planned a little easier ride for the next day.

Friday morning, we ate a hearty breakfast and picked an easy trail to a Pipestone landmark ~ Ringing Rocks. Dawn, being a percussionist, played us a tune, while Dan, being part mountain goat climbed to the highest rocks. We spent the rest of the morning running the easy trails near the campers. After a quick lunch, we left for another popular Pipestone trail ~ Whiskey Gulch. Every time we have ridden here, we have turned around at the top, so I was surprised when we went a different way. What we discovered was a new favorite for both Rick and me: a fascinating run down through fantastic rock formations and gorgeous woodlands. We crossed the interstate again to one of the guys' favorite spots ~ the Lunch Room. It is a neat spot, but not one of the rides that I really enjoy. Some erosion trail damage and a near mishap did not increase my love for this trail, though one new section was a fun run. A quick side trip by the historic quarry, and we were back to the campers for a slightly-earlier-than-last-night supper. 

Saturday's ride was slightly abbreviated (but still a great ride)as we wanted to get home at a reasonable time. We were on the interstate headed home by mid-afternoon. We filled the trucks in Belgrade and began climbing the Bozeman Pass. Dan and I were chatting about the rides and the pictures when Rick suddenly pulled off the road. Was that dust or smoke? It was smoke from a blown bearing on the camper. Dan and Grif grabbed a jack and tools and started tearing off parts as Dawn, Rick and I started googling parts. We missed the RV dealership by three minutes, but we did find some open auto parts stores. But things could not be quite that simple, could they? Long story short, after more than four hours by the side of the interstate, we were back on the road short one tire and with a chained-up axle. Needless to say, we were no longer tooling along at 70 mph. We were now a 45 mph, 4-ways flashing convoy. One more unexpected stop near Reed Point reminded us again why we were all hanging together. Our little convoy limped into Laurel at about 12:30, safe and sound. But I did laughingly say to Dan that we have got to quit saying, "Hey, for once we are going to get home before dark!"