There is a place in So Cal that is small, compared to the great mountains of Idaho or Colorado, but a place nonetheless, that has the same feel, sights and views as its bigger cousins.

-Back-roads-

August 1st was a typically hot day in Southern California, so when my friends pulled up my drive on their Adventure bikes, saying things like “hurry up”, and “lets go”, I have to admit I had some apprehension. For most in the lower reaches of California, summer is a time to sit by the pool, drinking purple concoctions out of ridiculously tall glasses, while tanning some portion of their plastic enhanced body parts.

That’s not the case for all of us though. For a vastly small, arguably insane percentage of Californians, summertime merely means that the temperature is higher, and the bikes are bigger. Dirt bike riding doesn’t stop; it only grows 200 pounds and gains a license plate. Presto! Adventure Riding is born!

OK, I’ll admit it sounds a little crazy, but sitting on the couch staring mindlessly at a Days Of Our Lives marathon for hours on end is as crazy as attacking gnarly mountain single-track, or even blitzing across the desert at 80 miles an hour in the middle of the summer! Trust me! We’ve tried it all!

Now picture yourself sitting on that worn out old couch, watching nothing, while staring at the TV, wishing that you could throw your leg over your bike and go get dirty. Now you can!
The advent of the “Adventure Bike” created the perfect atmosphere for exploring the backcountry. These bikes, somewhat beastly compared to our normal motocrossers, let you know right away that gnarly mountain single-track is out of the question, leaving you content and downright happy to be on the old logging, mining, and fire roads that take you to places only dreamed of in So Cal. Places that actually exist but are seldom seen because of our smaller, non-street-legal steeds!

After some discussion over where it was they wanted to go, and some sweet-talking to my better half—pushing back the honey-do list one more day—we were off on our adventure. Leaving the house around 9:00 AM, we headed northeast into the local mountains in search of the perfect jeep road, to take us up to cooler temperatures and fantastic views.

Along the way, we discovered that there really are a lot of backcountry dirt roads that most people never see. We also discovered natural springs with the coldest, purest water I’ve ever tasted, beautiful creeks alive with crickets, frogs, and minnows, and even a few old-time cabins, complete with homemade deck furniture, used by miners and ranchers from the turn of the last century!

Lunchtime found us staring up at a rock the size of Half Dome! Well not really, but it was close. Just ask the guy that was hanging two thousand feet up on the face of it… on purpose! This rock towers over the quaint mountain town of Idyllwild, and stands like a guardian angel for the locals.

The town of Idyllwild is great! Shops and boutiques line the streets, while local bands play in the grass in the center of town. Finding the perfect lunchtime restaurant is a snap: Just look for the one with the outside tables and the sign that simply says, “Beers & BBQ.” Perfect!

After taking in the local sounds and eating the perfect BBQ, we headed down the mountain on the road (which I do have to admit is a little fun) and off to our next destination. Heading southeast for a while, through a valley lined with multi-million-dolor homes complete with private lakes and tennis courts, we came to a dirt road that headed in the right general direction, so we took it.

We spent the next four hours exploring old mining camps, stopping by cool mountain springs and taking in the beauty, all the while climbing our way up to 9,000 ft. where we finally found cooler temperatures…

Executive Decision

Most of us at one time or another have been talked into camping in some overcrowded place during some over hyped holiday weekend by the same old lines: "It's not that bad," or "You just have to ride out a bit further." I admit, not only have I fallen for this trick a few times, but I have even said those exact lines to others in the hopes of getting friends and family to come along.

Over one million people now recreate with off-road vehicles in the state of California alone. Most of them choose to do so in Southern California locations such as Glamis, Ocotillo Wells, Gordon's Wells, Buttercup and Superstition Mountains. These five places, known as the "Big Five," are spectacular riding areas, with undeniable beauty and variety of terrain. Unfortunately these areas are being stretched past practical capacity, and camping there is more like camping in a Wal-Mart parking lot, only not as friendly. However, some SoCal residents understand the math involving so many dirt bike riders in only five riding areas and choose to look to the north.

This year, Halloween weekend brought record numbers to all the usual riding areas, and we were there to witness it. With this in mind, and Thanksgiving rapidly approaching, it was time to make an executive camp decision: We would not be visiting any of the Big Five this Thanksgiving!

I spent the next two weeks staring at countless maps and websites, while asking as many people as possible about good places to go. I didn't get anywhere. The general lie fron everyone I later figured out was "I don't know." It was time to take a drive. Time to put my truck in four-wheel drive and hit the desert. I'd find a place come hell or high water. Little did I know how relevant the latter would be!

After an extensive search that took my girlfriend and I through some great places, and some not-so-great places, while trying to stay as close to So Cal as possible, we found it! We found the perfect place! Well... almost.

Our newfound campsite would be nestled on the edge of a medium-sized dry lake bed some ten miles off the main state route. The access road was unmarked and perfectly disguised for keeping out the masses. After a bit of discussion with my better half, we decided that this would be the place to spend our four-day Thanksgiving holiday, and a detailed map with directions would be necessary to ensure the rest of the group could find it.

Thanksgiving morning, our group started to trickle in. Without exception, everyone was red in the face, and looking for rope! "What the hell is up with the eight miles of washboard?" and, "I just lost three years of life off my motor home" were the repeated themes all morning long. All I could do was shrug...

At three o'clock, it was time for the best meal of the year, and as usual, it was unbelievable! With three turkeys and dozens of side dishes, over-eating wasn't an option but rather a fact of life! It was during this time of gorge that I first started to hear comments being made about how nice it was out there, and how unbelievably deserted it was for one of the biggest holiday camping weekends of the year. I smiled inside, while shoveling mashed potatoes into my overstuffed belly.

Night comes early in the winter, and the remaining snow on the ground was a good indication of what the temperature would be. Fortunately, the absence of wind and the abundance of firewood made for the perfect evening.

Friday morning was bright, cold and perfect for the unbelievable riding ahead. Our first ride would take us over three mountain ranges, across beautiful valleys, and subject us to sand dunes, sand washes, muddy lake beds and rocky hillclimbs with a pucker factor of ten! Four hours and only forty miles later, we were back at camp and ready for lunch.

Everyone on the first ride, including myself, was blown away by the vastness and beauty of it all. The rocky hills littered with single-track trails, the sand washes that wound through the desert floor for endless miles, and the sand dunes that reached for the sky were more then we ever imagined would be in a place like this. In a nutshell it was all of the Big Five rolled into one! Except something was missing;crowds! We passed one small group that was resting on a hilltop some twenty miles from camp, and that was it!

Later that afternoon we headed north, toward a mountain covered with rocks, snow, and radio towers. Along the way, we found sandy hillclimbs littered with rocks, single-track trails up and over mountain ridges, and a muddy lake bed that was perfect for covering an unsuspecting buddy. Once we reached the mountain of towers, we found it nearly impossible to crest, and with fuel running low, it was time to head for camp.

Later that evening as the full moon rose in the clear, still air, it was obvious to most, if not all, that the four-hour drive and eight miles of dirt washboard road really was worth the effort.
The rest of the weekend went better than imagined, and even though I still like to ride and camp in the Big Five areas, never again will I spend a holiday weekend there.

That following Tuesday morning, while surfing the web looking for anything new on Dirtrider.com, a guy at work came up to me and asked if I knew of a good place to ride that wasn't crowded. I simply shrugged and said, "I don't know."