Sheep and other small brained animals

 There was a moment last month during the LA/Barstow-Vegas were I felt lost and did not trust in my roll chart/ odometer navigation, Ok maybe many moments but a few still stick in my memory. I was trying to make sense of my roll chart and figure out if I had made a wrong turn and would need to re-calculate my mileage. I met a rider head on and after passing I met another rider head on and we were going slow enough through the rocks that I asked him if i was headed the wrong way but he said that I was going the correct way but it was just "hard as hell". I continued and yes it was difficult for a bit and there was a satanic decent of seat puckering down hill. It was one of the most fun challenging things I have ever done on a overweight street bike with less than properly working skimpy old dirt bike brakes. 

Soon after I was again having doubt in my navigation and I stopped at a group of other sheep who like most on the riders were using a GPS and I put my trust in there direction and was soon completely off course and with no GPS I had no way of finding my way and was not going to follow them any longer. I missed out on much of the first day's afternoon course but learned not to follow. 

Near the end of the second day I was finally making my way to the famed red rock canyon into Vegas. I had become stuck on my roll chart and odometer navigation like a little calf to a tit and was sucking it like my life depended on it. Down and down a rocky well beat in shelf trail right into a wash were I was instructed to turn up into the wash and go up it. But all tracks turned and did not go up it. I to turned and my rear tire up turned a stump and for the first time I tipped over the XS750. Fuck she is a heavy bitch to pick up! I met another couple of riders doing the stumble and they said their GPS said the same as my roll chart said so I said fuck it and headed up the wash. As I slipped the clutch hopping logs, stumps, and big rocks from a recent flash flood I thought for sure I was being a fool and was about to expose my Street Bike's weakness to death from clutch punishment but on I went in and out of embankments until I was in a slot wash carving corners where only maybe five others had been before me. Of the 500 entrants, here I was and then just when my roll chart told me to leave the wash there was an exit, out and into the glory from what is only known of those not afraid to not follow. Those are some things I remember.