JIMBORED GOES OFF-ROAD AND DISAPPEARS INTO THE WILDERNESS – 2007
My vision of retirement, had for many years, included some time, set aside, for old JimboRed to get back into the bush and relive some of the days of my youth. In my younger days, my friends and I spent a great deal of time, tramping around the mountains in western Alberta. Either with the Boy Scouts, or with a couple of my adventurous friends. We spent many a long day walking along the banks of the Clearwater River, looking for that rare fish, dumb enough to let us catch them. We were quite a sight, in those early adult years, crashing thru the bush, yelling and talking, laughing and dragging our beers along with us. There was nothing subtle or stealthy about us. I suppose we figured that there were enough fish, that even our carrying-on would not frighten all of them. Mostly that was true.
I had some sort of vision of retirement, somewhere near the wilderness. When we, ultimately, moved to Vancouver Island, it fit perfectly with my plans. One of my childhood buddies, the one I went dinosaur hunting with, (and pictured above on the right) lived in the area where we retired. He was an avid outdoorsman, from the time, when, we were in school together, in the early 1960’s. This was a guy, who, after our first year of college, fled into the bush for a month, or more. During our summer break he packed up his fishing gear, and along with a small tent, and his girlfriend, was dropped off, way, way deep into the mountains. I mean in a place where the only traffic might be an occasional logging truck.
Carrying a bag of potatoes, a bag of weed, and his fishing gear he decided to go and see if he could live off the land. Now if that wasn’t hard core, then tell me what was. Anyway, they did it and survived a way longer than anyone ever guessed they would. One day in mid summer, him and his girlfriend reappeared, in civilization, apparently no worse for wear. Slightly scrawnier, but otherwise healthy. Once we arrived on the island, I knew he would be keen to get into the bush. I was right, so shortly after our arrival we jumped into the bush, searching for dinosaurs and adventure. Soon, he came up with another of his famous ideas. “Jimbo”, he says, “if we are going to get deep enough into the bush to really find the good stuff, then you are going to need a QUAD!”
“Great!”, I agreed, “Now what the hell is a QUAD?” With that he disappears into his garage and with a ROAR, reappears seated on what looks like a 4 wheel motorcycle. I had seen a beast like this before, but thought that only, young, fit, crazy teenagers were allowed to have them. This monster machine, just sat there purring and quivering, waiting for someone to turn it loose. He says, “yup, with a machine like this we can go anywhere, climb a rock wall, ford any torrent, and basically get into places where the explorers were afraid to go. The funny thing was, that knowing my friend, I did not doubt that he had probably tried all of the things he described. At that point, I should, once again, have run and hid! However, not Ol’ JimboRed. I just said, “hell yes, where do I get one?”
I just knew Deysi would be as excited as I was. You think? I couldn’t wait to get home and tell her. I describe all the benefits of having a machine that could take me farther into the wilderness, than man had ever been previously. I’m bouncing up and down, waiting for her to tell me to go get one. Instead, like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head, she says. “Are you absolutely crazy?” She adds, “now I know you are losing it!” And finishes with, “no way in hell, are you getting something like that!” With this she plants her hands on her hips, and flounces off. That cursed cat following her, grinning and wiggling it’s butt at me. I am left standing there, looking for any positives that may have come from “sharing” my new idea.
Anyway, to skip all of the whining, crying, begging, pleading and sobbing bits, she finally relented and let me get one. I might say that I lost a lot of my own self respect, when I think of the levels, she brought me down too, before finally agreeing. “That, if you want to go kill yourself, then go right ahead.” “Just don’t blame me,” she added. “Don’t expect me to come looking for you when you and that other old fool get yourselves lost in the bush!” “You HEAR ME?” So, I went and got, the biggest, meanest, beast of a machine, that I felt capable of riding. That being done, we now prepare ourselves for a ride into the unknown.
My buddy had been in this area of Vancouver Island for the previous 25 years, or so. He had many, many camping and fishing spots scouted out. We did not waste much time before we got our machines loaded, and plunged into the bush. For our first foray into the unknown, we chose a spot relatively close to home and civilization. It was a bit north of and west of Campbell River. He picked a camping area with road access so we could unload our quads and gear, at the spot we were going to camp. For those of you that don’t know Vancouver Island, it must be said, that anywhere, even a few miles from the highway that runs North and South, along the East coast of the Island, is REMOTE! 95 percent of all the population is centered along this one highway. The rest of the Island is wilderness.
We arrive, quickly set up camp, unload our toys and get ready for my first run into the forest. He tells me that for my first time he has selected a “child’s” course to practise on. With that he hops up on his quad and points down an old cut line, and yells, “ok straight down that old cut line, follow me.” With a roar, he is off, across the road and into the forest. I can hear his machine whining and screaming as he gains speed. I gently put my Quad into gear and timidly creep over the road and onto the, now overgrown cut line. Here I must explain what a cut line is. Basically, at a time, when the loggers came in to clear the forest, they laid out patterns of roads. These roads were used to get men and equipment in, too cut the trees, and big trucks to haul them out, once cut. Once the cutting was done, these primitive roads were left to grow back in, and return to the forest.
And so, it was down one of these overgrown paths where I started my first ride on a Quad. The growth on the old cut line was about two feet deep. However, it was still obvious where the trail was. I could hear the whine of my friend’s motor fading in the distance. I just kind of relaxed and got my Quad up to a respectable speed of about 15mph. In my mind I was as Peter Fonda in Easy Rider. The wind whipping thru my hair and my salt and pepper locks blowing in the breeze. In reality, I was probably not quite that cool looking. I was happy. Cruising along, looking at the forest and dreaming of the places that were now within my reach.
I drove along for about 30 minutes, just enjoying, not having to scramble thru the forest. I had long lost sight or sound of my companion and his quad. Now I just followed the same cutline that he had pointed down. Every time I came to a crossroad, I just stayed straight. A couple of times I got off and examined the growth, on the trail, for signs of it being bent over and broken. That, to me, meant sure sign of a 4 wheel vehicle recently passing this way. Hell, I even felt a little bit like a frontier tracker or outdoorsman. After a while longer, I stop to listen for any sound of my buddy and his Quad. I was now starting to get a bit paranoid, realizing that I was suddenly quite alone, in a heavy forest, a few miles from where I had started. Added to this, I now realized that if I made a wrong turn, or two, I most probably would be irretrievably lost.
I paused for a moment and just considered turning around and heading back to camp. But somehow, it seemed like giving up, on my first practise run, was not the thing to do. After all, my buddy, at some point, would have to return, this way, to get back to our camp. Anybody that knows Ol’ JimboRed knows that I could conjure in my mind, hundreds of bad things that could happen, in each situation. Hell, if everything were perfect, I would still think up some bad shit to worry about. So with visions of the “boogyman” jumping out at me from the forest, I proceeded on. After what seemed like hours, I stopped once again, to consider my options. I could now see the sun moving further to the west, and starting to cast long, spooky, shadows across my trail. I’m now thinking, maybe he has found another way out. Maybe he is back at camp already, sipping on a cold one. What if he left sign for me along the trail and I had missed it.
My active paranoia, was telling me, to turn around and get the hell out of there before something bad happened. I started to wonder, how much gas does this thing carry. I had been told that I had a range of about 150 miles with one tank of gas. Now I’m wondering, have I gone that far? Of course, in all likelihood I was now about 5 miles from our camp. I have never told my buddy, then, or ever since, just how close I came to leaving him on that trail, and turning my machine around and returning to camp. Something told me, “come on you old fool, just another couple of miles more.” So, away I went, battling my demons and no longer enjoying my ride thru the forest. And then I round, one last, final corner………..
Lo and behold, I have caught up to him. Around a corner and over a rise I fly (well maybe “fly” is a bit too strong). He is stopped and standing on the seat of his Quad, trying to appear cool and nonchalant. Where he has parked, is right, smack, in the middle of a fast flowing stream. The stream, at this point, was flowing across our path. Water is running, within about 1 foot, of covering his Quad, completely. It was quite a sight. I mean, just how cool can you look standing on top of your ride, in the middle of a stream, in the middle of a forest? My god, how I wish in later years, that I had taken my camera along. Or that we had cellphones capable of taking photos. The picture of him poised there like “the Marlboro Man“, while standing on his seat, of his bike, in the middle of a fast flowing stream, would have been priceless!
He says, “where you been?” “I was just about to get out of here, but thought I’d just wait a few minutes and see if you caught up.” I thinking, “bullshit, you were not about to get out of there, and if you did you were walking back to camp!” I must say that his Quad was fully loaded with bush conquering toys. On the front he had a big winch, seemingly capable, of hauling a dozen quads out of any situation. The main problem with his current situation was that anywhere that his winch line would reach, there was not a tree growing. Nor was there a rock or anything else to attach his line too. At this point his winch was about as useless as a paddle would have been, in freeing his Quad from this place.
I cannot help but snicker a little bit at the memory. Had my other friend R been there, he would have voted to just leave him there and let him deal with it himself. In any event we got a tow strap, hooked between our Quads and I pulled him free of his predicament. All the while he stayed perched on top of his 4 wheeler, keeping his feet from touching the cold mountain water. I thought it was hilarious, however, my outdoorsman friend would not show any vulnerability and just shrugged off my giggling. He tried to pretend that he was not in any trouble, and that he dealt with situations like that, all the time. I say bullshit! I saved his butt from a long walk home. He never knew just how close he came to my, not arriving there, and leaving him in the bush.
Soon we were back at camp and my first off-road ride was history. One thing, I swore, after my first ride, was that, NEVER AGAIN WOULD I EVER WALK ONE FOOT THRU THE FOREST WITHOUT MY QUAD. We had covered more distance in about 2 hours, than I had previously covered, on foot, thrashing, cursing and scrambling thru many a forest; IN ALL OF MY LIFE TO DATE. I now had a new love in my life. Not on the level of Deysi, or the kids, but certainly up there with my future purchases such as the boat and, later, the snowblower. From that moment on, distance thru the wilderness had no meaning. Nothing was out of the reach of a man and his machine. At this point I will stop. I could go on with many more stories of adventure starring me and my Quad. However, I will leave them for another time.
4 Comments
Craig Emerick
Another great recollection. Wish you had a picture of Lilia on the big red machine – but maybe that never happened. Thanks, Craig
Jimbo Red
100% that never happened. She couldn’t even look at my beautiful machine without saying something mean! I am happy you enjoyed another of my fading memories. Regards
Deysi
That little red machine was dangerous! It could roll over easily. It could turnover and pin you down on the ground. You promised never to go alone but you did! You took years off my life every time you disappeared with your machine.
After you got tired of your precious machine, you had to have a boat! Just could not live on an island without a boat, a boat, a boat. Until you got it! What is next for JimboRed a plane???
Jimbo Red
Very funny Deysi! But weren’t you the one that told me, “get outta here, go find a hobby, keep yourself busy, quit pestering me!” Then I found one and you hated it. Also, I did not get tired of my Quad. Remember you banned me from riding it by myself! That is why i had to give it up. So there, the truth is finally out! Hey, a plane! What a good idea! Just think of the crap ol’ JimboRed could get in with one of those! Hmmmmmmm………….