More Mud Stops The TransAmerica Trail Riders In Their Tracks

You don't need to fall for mud to stop you dead.

A Bit More Mud Stops A Wheel

Look at an Oklahoma aerial view, as in the coordinating video #11, “Moto Camping with Oklahoma Hay Bales”. It’s ART.

Not so much with the Okie mud. Last writing, we’d spent an hour getting past a hundred yards of it. My right ankle was hurt. We were up to motorcycle layover four for the day.

TransAmerica Trail Ride Oklahoma
Oklahoma: A TAT PerspectivePaul Bramsen

We proceeded west a mile or three, again meeting a stretch of our muddy nemesis. I advanced but slid into an ’S’ maneuver and flopped the bike, pinning my left foot; ensuring my right foot would not suffer alone. I’m either clumsy at leaping to safety or the A- Twin’s extra gravity outwits me. Layover five.

For the cause of my battered feet, Paul suggested he take the Twin for a while. He hopped on, throttled, and fell over. Layover six.

TransAmerica Trail Ride Okahoma
Who'da thought an aerial view of bikes and cow food would be so beautiful.Paul Bramsen

We righted the bike, aiming towards the Pacific, 2,600 TAT miles distant. Immediately, Paul noticed he couldn’t steer. Caleb observed an Oklahoman rarity: Paul was skiing, not rolling. Between fender and wheel was a healthy amount no-go wedgie mud. They pushed the bike to free the wheel.

“Stop!” The wheel had stopped dead, yanking the plastic fender with its attached hydraulic lines up towards the forks and stretching the ABS wire tight. We spent a good part of the next hour poking the mud with screwdrivers, tire irons, unscrewing hex bolts, flossing with nylon cord, and flushing with puddle water. If your adventuring includes mud, get yourself a high fender.

TransAmerica Trail Oklahoma
Dave works on unlocking the A-Twin's Oklahoma mud-locked front wheel. It was solid, requiring at least a half hour of poking, flossing, and flushing.Paul Bramsen
TransAmerica Trail Ride
Mud Rules! A motorcycle was here. Classic Oklahoma straightness lies ahead.Dave Bramsen

Then we rode on to a first shower in 6 sweat-gritty days at Frankie’s pleasant Air BnB in Boise City, Oklahoma. She let us wash mud off the bikes.

I had a deep gash in my left shin and painful swelling of the right ankle. After a week of riding Colorado and into Utah, both ankles had swelled painfully and the gash was infected. I took my poor feet to Moab Regional Hospital ER: a great facility with an inspiring red rock backdrop and good service.

Inside buddy Nate’s motocross boots, the feet rode on into some rugged postcard Utah terrain. And a number of flats, but we'll get to those at another time.