So it’s our final day in McCloud and we happened upon the rushing waters of Mud Creek (it has a fancier name, but you gotta call like the locals).  We’d been hearing about this “crossing” for years but had yet to stumble across it.  Right after we parked, a couple of quads were crossing from the other side o’ so carefully.  You see, the water was REALLY rushing fast, the bottom of the creek laden with snot covered boulders.  How fast was current moving, you ask?  Well, you could hear and see 40 pound rocks being relocated along the landscape of the creek.  Hmmmm.  Could this be done by a GS?!?

OF COURSE IT CAN!  Or you could at least try with a promise from your riding partner that she’ll shed her Frye boots and jump in to help in case the bike lodges against a boulder and goes over.  The driveway leading to the water’s edge was extremely deep, covered in powdery silt.  It would be a challenge in and of itself just to lead the 600 pound bike down to the edge.  Terry kept saying, “Well, maybe next time we’re up here I’ll try.”  Huh?!? Are you kidding me?  Hop on that damn bike and let’s give it a go!  I KNOW YOU’RE DYING TO!  Trust me…I know you.  You’ll kick yourself in the ass all the way home if you don’t try.

Terry and I looked from shore to try and pick the best line for him to take.  Once the line was chosen, Terry walked in to make sure no boulders were in the way, just waiting to stop the attempt in its tracks.  Onward he wobbled (hey, he was wearing motorcycle boots, not Keen’s).  He made it to the other side but had yet to maneuver back.  It was on his return trip that he juuuust about went down.  With middle finger perfectly pitched on his right hand, he graciously thanked me for the chuckle of “support” and completed his not-so-steady walk back to the shore.  Time to man up and give it a whirl.

Up to his bike Terry strode with a not-so-confident look on his face.  But knowing him for as long as I have (over 20 years), I knew he wouldn’t puss out…too many witnesses.  He geared up, turned around, hopped back off and gingerly walked the 600 dirt bike down the steep drive, fingers gripping the front brake, careful not the dig the front tire in and tip over.  Never once did he hesitate as he headed into the frigid creek.  Steady, slowly, carefully and nimbly he moved.  A little gas, lots of brake and even more patience as he proceeded bit by bit.  All was going well till he got to the deeper, faster moving portion of the water.  The bottom of his cases skimmed the top of the brown water as his back tire started to spin.  His front wheel had nestled itself quite nicely against a series of larger rocks, stopping him where he stood.  He had to carefully rock his bike to and fro, dislodging the front wheel while trying not to dig the back tire in any further.  Within 30 seconds, he was able to free the front wheel from it’s grip, get the back tire to catch, and carefully roll up the other side.  Ah, success…damn, it smells sweet!  Right after he landed, the two quads came rolling back to cross back over.  And I swear I saw at least one of them scratch his helmet in sheer disbelief that Terry was on the other side.  They stopped to ask him how he did it, amazed that he could maneuver 2 wheels through the current.  Nice.

And how could he not feel like a Bad Ass?!?  I beamed with pride – Jack was so proud of his daddy-o!  “Nice one, daddy!” and “Woo hoo!” were yelled loudly over the sounds of the rushing water.  Now what?  Well, Terry, into town you go.  We’ll meet ya back at camp.  Just let me know how the dirt ride into McCloud was and when I get to try my hand at crossing Mud Creek.  You can’t have ALL the fun now, can you?!?

Forward my young adventurers!  May your experiences be fulfilling and your memories overflowing.  Cheers.