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Great Western Trail to Mormon Lake (almost) I figure I've been on so many great rides lately (i.e., without incident), it was just a matter of time before lady luck turned her back. This ride proved that theory. David, Jim and I set out early with the intention of riding from Phoenix to Mormon Lake (SE of Flagstaff) via the Great Western Trail. We got as far as Seven Springs, when David had to turn back due to some unsettling sounds emitting from his KLR. After bidding our condolences, Jim and I rode on. The ride through Bloody Basin was beautiful; the desert is still in bloom from the recent rains and there were plenty of wildlife running around (three javelinas, two antelope and a slew of the usual critters). The GPS then told us it was time to get off Bloody Basin road and take the Great Western Trail up to Camp Verde. The trail started off easy enough, but quickly turned into a hellish path filled with big, loose boulders. Jim and I both dumped our bikes a couple of times along this stretch. (The KTM's gettin' some nice scars.) About halfway, Jim's bike stopped running. He tried several times to get it going again, but couldn't figure out why it wouldn't start. Finally, we stooped down and noticed that one of the spills had caused the petcock to close. (I guess them bikes need gas to run.) Jim turned it to the "on" position and took off, just slightly embarrassed. After making it through this rough stuff, I walked back up the trail a bit to find several pieces of broken taillights and turn signals. Apparently, we weren't the first ones to find this nice little stretch. After that experience, we made a bee-line to Camp Verde for some lunch. We met up with some sport bike riders (www.azbusas.com) at a local cafe and then took off again for Mormon Lake. I had spent some time the night before checking the route on my GPS, and everything looked good. The dirt road from Camp Verde started off easily enough (sound familiar?), but after about 15 miles, it started getting a little rocky. We rode on, determined to make it to our camp site at the lake. But our enthusiasm quickly waned, as the trail just got worse and worse. We finally decided to turn back and find an easier route. That's when it happened -- Jim hit a boulder that pinched his front tube, causing him to go down at about 45 mph. (The bike hit with such force that it actually broke his subframe.) Lady luck hadn't completely abandoned us though, because Jim was not seriously hurt. We used some cable ties to keep his luggage rack in place and eased our way back to the nearest (and only) bar in Camp Verde. After crying in our margaritas, we jumped onto I-17 and made our way back home. To end the day on a positive note, we stopped in Black Canyon City for a nice steak dinner. I don't know about Jim, but I slept very well that night. Shown below are a few images from the ride.
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