Despite a month long thrash on the sleds and trailers getting things ready, as we always promise ourselves will not be happening again next year, but somehow it always does. Just like "Next year, we're leaving ON TIME and I don't care who isn't ready, we're leaving!" always turns into a 4 hour delay. Despite calling Ann Arbor the dirty whore that she is on the way through, and surviving a winter land hurricane from Ann Arbor to Mackinac, seeing no snow where there is supposed to be snow, and turning a 10 hour trip into 14, despite all of this shit already, getting out of the trucks and having our group together again brought instant thoughts of happiness on the trails and laughter in the cabin. And all of the red flags and disappointment on the way here seemed to not matter, and almost vanish completely. Our makeshift repair on Pat's exhaust was still holding, Danny had his own theme song and we would all be on the sleds in Newberry very soon!
Thursday, Feb 25, 2016
The plan for the day is to unload all the gear, and the sleds then head into Curtis 3 miles down the road for the appropriate permits, and last minute details we all forget like 2 cycle oil and hair goo. Even though the sleds load themselves under their own power, and they depend on a bunch of dummies dragging them off the trailers, unloading went relatively smooth with our new-found energy, excitement, and false hopes of putting the "badness" behind us. Partially because the "adults" were busy, and partially because we weren't paying attention, Mikey and JT were off entertaining themselves. Nothing bad at all, just boys being boys. What they were doing was wrestling over a football in the snow. Not in itself a bad thing, hell they were keeping themselves occupied and not in the way or getting hurt. What they didn't realize, is that they were also getting soaking wet in the snow. At 50 MPH in The Upper Peninsula, wet gear is a huge bad thing. Remember kids, its super easy to die up here, and hypothermia is not your friend, and with the wolfpack mentality wet clothes are a detriment to the entire group.
I have to rewind a bit, and go back to the annual pre-trip sled thrash, it gets important in the story soon. If you remember, Pat broke a driveshaft and caused last years major "kerfuffle", so easy fix. New shaft and associated bearings and oil, he's first on the trailer. I traded stuff for an Arctic Cat ZR 700, fixed it up, traded it for two Polarii. Yes, Polarii is the correct plural for Polaris. Pat and I did some major work on the two to make a good one, and got it "running". Uncle Ed, Eddie, and Danny showed up and made her RUN! I was next on the trailer. Jimmy just needed some long overdo maintenance, and some parts from my other one and he was next. JT's sled is "just a little air cooled 340" (this is important later!!!) and didn't need much, but since the sled is small, we saved it for later to fit it into our sled/trailer tetris game. "Old Reliable" The 440 I rode last year, gave her a quick once over, and she was ready. Those 5 are on the first trailer Pat and Erick are pulling, Chop and I are pulling the second trailer. We're supposed to haul Eddie's XCR 800 and Chopper's RXL. XCR? Good to go, put it on the trailer. RXL? Not so much, we literally pulled it out of a barn January 3. It was a basket case. Thrash, thrash, thrash, keep throwing money at it, first pull FIRED! Yay! Ker-effin-boom! One of the three cylinders is not playing nice with the other two. The best way I can describe what happened in the next 72 hours.... We sent a sick little lamb to Brookfield, we didn't have time for it here. It was running on 2 of 3 cylinders. Again, Uncle Ed, Eddie, Danny, Chopper and some non-sled friends spent each and every spare moment and sent it back in about 60ish hours. When it came back, it had a crankshaft from a 1932 Studebaker, cylinder heads off of a P51 Mustang, a magic wand and a whole lot of angry. That crew busted ass, and took a shot in the dark with spare parts, what they came up with is a secret combination that none of us to this day are sure of. We're all sure it works though! Holy shit does that thing run like a fat kid chasing an ice cream truck!
So here we are, Curtis Ichigan. We fought so hard to get here, and the only thing on our minds is Newberry, Ichigan. Unload, let's hit Curtis, get back here, gear up and shake down cruise to Newberry! We all jump in and convoy to Curtis. Fuel for the rigs, oil for the sleds, permits for the Cops, cash for the wallet. My debit card is STILL there, BTW. And a little The Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald on the radio.... At this point, the Brookfield side and the Grimm side start talking about why we both have this song on our minds. I point out the fact that the ship wrecked a hundred miles or so from here, and there's a museum up there in Whitefish Point that I'd like to go see, and I think it'd be a good trip on the sleds. Except the museum is closed, but maybe we can still make the ride past Paradise, head on up there. Danny tells us he stumbled upon the song, and keeps playing it solely for the fact that it pisses Eddie off. "Holy shit! We're close to where it wrecked??" Yeppers.
."I think that'd be a good Saturday trip for us, let's get to Newberry today, then see what happens. Shake down cruise today, we're all tired from the trip. Dust off tomorrow, we'll hit the trails pretty hard maybe make a big loop. Saturday is the long haul trip, we'll go see Edmund and her crew, stop at The Falls for lunch, Paradise for fuel." I said, fully believing this was even a remote possibility.
We all get permitted up, and things we forgot, and a few extras and head back to the sleds waiting for us at the cabin. When we get back, there is a palpable giddiness about us as we all exit the trucks and race to the cabin to get geared up. I hear the first of our sleds start for the warm up and the sound puts a sense of urgency into all of us in the cabin. Quick trip today, back to the cabin to get settled in. This is it!
Quick safety check, everyone knows the order and the trail rules. 3 miles to Curtis on the streets, then trails. Ride Sally ride! I lead our pack out of the drive and onto the road leading to Curtis, and all of a sudden it becomes painfully obvious. We're riding on blacktop. Not snow. I knew this! Air cooled sleds depend on movement for engine cooling, we have Robert and JT on "The little 340's" that are air cooled. The rest of us are liquid cooled. A liquid cooled sled has radiators around the track, and depends on snow to cool the radiators. Simple. Except we're riding on dry pavement. I try my best to kick my outside ski into a snowbank when I can to throw snow under my sled. It doesn't work. About a half mile from camp, I get the sound of a sick engine, and a few second later the "overheat" light on the dash. I stop, and realize I'm the first to break down this year, less than a mile from camp. With what dignity I have left, I climb off of my XCR and hope for no permanent damage. As I'm assessing the situation, I don't even have my helmet off yet, I glance to my left and see Danny walking towards me. Not a big deal, we travel as a pack.
But then I hear his theme song.... "That good ship and crew was a bone to be chewed, as the gales of November gave early. The ship was the pride of the American side coming back from mill in Wisconsin.."
"What's wrong Grandpa??? Did you break a hip?" Kiss my ass Danny......
(to be continued)
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