This is a true story of one KLR rider in Oregon who rode his 650 into the Pacific Ocean and lived to tell the tale.

The ocean for all it's beauty can often give and sometimes take away.

The day started like most normal days. Everything was peaceful and anticipation filled the air for the group of us that had gathered together for a ride through one of Oregon's scenic forest.

As we pulled away from the staging area none of us could have imagined what lay ahead. By days end there would be broken bodies, shatter nerves, wrecked bikes and tears of both pain and joy.

 

In all of my days of riding I can never recall a time when so many things went so wrong so quickly.

The plan was to ride a loop in an area of a particular forest that had selected for exploring. The route was to be around 60 miles long of nothing more than easy to ride service roads.

Coming to an intersection we stopped to look over our maps and take a short rest, the spur road off to our left was not part of the mapped out route, but we all agreed it looked appealing and decided to go down it, as if lemmings over a cliff.

One by one we thundered along until we came to a clearing that had a small limited trail area on the side of a hill. It was just the ticket for those of us that enjoy a little challenge.
 

After a couple of us had rode around the horse shoe shaped track a few times, Gary, fired up his KLR to come and join us, this normally doesn't warrant mentioning as he's a very good rider and something this small and easy is something he could do his sleep, or so we thought.

Well humming to himself the musical tune "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" he sets forth and chuggs up the hill without a care in the world. But if you look at the photo above you can clearly see the line he should have taken to turn right.

As soon as I noticed my friends mistake, I move in closer for a better shot.

"Oh dear" my buddy seems to have fallen off his bike, so we quickly race up the hill to assist him.

Well he seems to be unscathed and once the guys help out and right his bike he's back in the saddle to try it again.

This time however Gary gives us an extra treat, not only does he approach the hill in the same place, but when he falls off and lands on the second occasion he adds in some excellent sounds effects such as "Thud" ...'Arrr" ... "Oww" ... until coming to a stop in a small tree.

Totally devaststed at watching one of riding buddies fall off his bike not once but twice in the same spot, I have a hard time taking a photo but somehow manage.

Needless to say, it was painful watching this unfold before me, and even harder for me to make these shots available to the public world wide. My only wish is that someone doesn't have to go through what he's gonna go through everytime I see him for the rest of his life ;-). Well once all the fun was over at the hill side we pressed on towards the Oregon coast line.

It is here where the real trouble starts and things just go from bad to worse.

If you are a KLR lover you may not want to see these photo's ..... You have been warned.

The beautiful tranquil coast line of Oregon, what could be nicer than a quick run along the beach on your trusted steed while on lookers watch in horror as the ever churrning and powerful pacific ocean tries to swollow you and your bike up so as to appease the sea god's.
 

John poses with his bike as the gentle waves in the back ground break upon the soft sands. This stretch of seafront is open to motor vehicles by the way, and I had just rode along the same area myself no more than few minutes earlier.
 

John's having so much fun in the sand, we have a hard time getting off the beach.

"Hey John you ever heard of sneeker waves ?"

Don't be silly Dave waves don't wear sneekers. This is true John, but in about 5 seconds your gonna wish you were wearing sneekers so you could run off the beach to safety.

John stalls his bike at the worst possible moment, no longer interested in posing for the camera he looks seaward to access the situation.

Far be it for me to interfere, but if I was you I'd break out the life boat, ditch the bike and get the hell off the beach.
 

Well loyalty has no boundries, John stays with his bike and refuses to relinquish it to the sea. This is not something I would recomend doing.

All alone John is in danger of losing his bike and even his life, man is no match for the full force of the ocean.

John slowly loses the battle to the sea, hope is fading fast and the outcome has already been sealed. Or has it.

Standing at the waters edge I hear John's plea's for help. I quickly move in while a wave washes back out to sea. The bike is bogged down in the sand and the chances of moving it are pretty slim.
Just as we are pulling at the beast with all our might another sneeker wave comes rushing in and hits the bike over on to my leg twisting my knee and forcing me face first down into the salty wash.

As the wave moved out it pulled the bike off my knee and I quickly got back to feet. Then like a lighting bolt from nowhere a surfer showed up on the scene and set about assisting us to give the bike one last chance. By this time the water had receeded and three of us managed to get the bike out of the vice like grip of the sand and slowly pushing it towards safety where Don came down and heped move the bike and us onto dryer land.

In Closing

The more I look back on it, the more I think how foolish we were for risking so much for nothing more than a piece of metal, but this time everything turned out ok considering. If it ever happened again I would help the rider, but leave the bike no matter who's it was.

If you have any questions or comments please feel free to email me.

Dave
Imperial-4776@webtv.net