I endured a cold November night in tamarisk grove campground, an enclave of trees separated from the rocky hills of the desert.

When I awoke, I packed my things, brewed a coffee and made my way over the hills of the grove and into the desert.  I wanted to see other parts of the landscape, cactus, bush, barren rock peppered beige mountains.  The bike did as said through the inputs, pushing the handlebars to steer, eased the front brake to make a turn a little sharper, maintaining speed for stability.  After climbing a mile through winding pavement, I spotted a potential trail. This gray gravel was wide enough for a person so I rode up and down but saw no continuation.

After the mountains, I continued towards the expanse; a view of the anza borrego desert, the town encircled by eastern mountain range to the left, and vast desert with a single road going straight right into the badlands.

A shoulder caught my eye, a potential offroad trail I slowed down and veered right into a clear gully of sand.  Gravely mistaken of the gully being a trail, for it ended abruptly and with deep sand.  Then immediately I wanted this excursion to be short; I was almost losing control.  Aiming to do a turn sharp right through cactus and dried bush, I gathered speed and aimed to escape.  Instead the 500 pounds sunk in the sand, the rear wheel spun dug down and stopped any further movement.  I couldnt budge only got deeper.

Another event was the huge plume of sand I kicked up with my entry into deep, loose desert sand.  This got the attention of a white helicopter flying close of the other side of the road.  A white pickup with the state park emblem stopped nearby.

Keeping cool and realizing I needed help, I left the adv bike in the sand, rear wheel dug in so it stayed upright.  I approached the ranger and he approached me.  I was in trouble, deep in shit in more than two ways.

The ranger said the obvious, that I was in off limits land.  Next I shared that I had thought I entered a trail, now I was stuck and needed help.  The ranger said, get out or I will site you.  He also radioed for help but was uncertain if "anyone was on".  He probably meant an offroad stranded vehicle rescue crew, or tow truck.  This didnt register with me and I asked if I should keep attempting to get out. He said yes if you can get out you should.

The next half hour made me hate how heavy my motorcycle is.  After failing to get the motorcycle to budge, I removed luggage and tipped the bike over.  In the ditch where the rear wheel dug a hole I filled with sand, rusty cands and dried bush.  I used all my muscle trying to pick the bike back up from its right side onto the pile of crap I hoped the rear wheel could grab onto to move.

I watched a video how to lift a super heavy f-ing motorcycle with your body pushing from a low point with your arms.  My legs and knees kept slipping in the sand so this was almost undoable.

With gloves I grabbed the crashbar on the front, and the luggage rack bar with my on the back.  Gasping for air and allowing my muscles to grab new energy, I pushed the sand with my boots and knees.  With a heave of all this, it was almost halfway up.  I shifted footing while applying all strength, and got it righted. Next I recovered and tried to get out.  It worked and I kept applying fuel and feathered clutch to get up and right until I got stuck in another rear-wheel situation in deep sand.

I was now parallel to the road, but around 30feet away. I was running out of energy. I could not attempt another move like the last or I would be completely out of energy. So going to the highway I flagged down a state park crew of one woman and a man.  I explained what happened, and they thought a dirtbike broke down, but they said if it runs, we could try to move it.

So they got out of their lifted white pickup, and got glove on.  We walked to the stuck machine.  Next, together we lifted the rear wheel out of the ditch and pointed the bike towards the road.  The man explained that I would ride, and they would push.  So in 3 bursts of park ranger assisted pushing I was on the gravel shoulder.  As they got in their truck, I offered cash for their help, but they said one day the universe will call on me and I would know what to do.

Asking their names, they winked and said just your friendly neighborhood park ranger.  I shook their hands and recovered for a moment.  Ready to leave the desert for good that day. 

Pictured is the town Julian an hour later, which had a little snow that day!

I learned many valuable lessons.  Crucial one is that we are not alone, people can and should rely and reach out for help because no matter what you believe about your self-reliance, one day it will come where you need help or may have to deal with grave realities.  The riders lessons would be;