I decided on Wednesday evening that since I was scheduled to fly at 1500 on Thursday I would use Thursday morning as productively as possible. Naturally that meant testing out my new Suzuki DR-Z-400 on the dirt trails at Land Between the Lakes (LBL). I couldnt find anyone to go with me so I did what any responsible, mature adult would do. I went alone.

As I was gathering my gear together for the one hour road ride to get to the trails I couldnt help but think back to my search and rescue days. How many missions started something like this? A guy goes out riding, hiking, climbing, biking, whatever, alone in an unfamiliar area and, before he knows it he is the subject of a search. I wasn't going to be that guy so I threw my handheld GPS and cell phone in my bike toolkit before speeding off. I also wore all of the body armor I had purchased a week earlier. I was clad in brand new padded pants, shin guards, knee guards, boots, chest protector, spine protector, elbow guards, gloves, helmet, and goggles. Oh yeah, I also wore my MP3 player. Gotta have tunes.

I arrived at LBL at 0830, just when the park was opening. I paid my entry fee and noted that absolutely no one else was there. I would have the park to myself. It was a good thing I had all of my gear, both electronic and high impact plastic, to keep me safe on my solo adventure. I set my "bingo" time at noon. That was the time I would have to be leaving the park to be sure that I'd make it home in time to shower and change for work.

I rode with reckless abandon around the park's main loop trail. My lighter bike took the jumps better, corned better, and was easier to pick up after a fall than my old KLX 650. After a few hours of riding the same loop, however, I decided to do some exploring. I was a knight in plastic armor riding a four-stroke, 400cc steed. I was virtuall invincible. It was time to take the paths less travelled.

I veered off of the main loop onto a much smaller singletrack trail. I climbed difficult ridges and careened down steep descents. I cornered and braked, and accellerated. The tunes on my MP3 player urged me forward. "The Killers" were screaming "drive faster" through my earphones . . .so I did. At some point, however, it became clear that my confidence was disproportionate to my skill. I began to crash more. I hit small trees. I stalled climbing the big hills. I lost traction descending rocky gullys. I was spending as much time trying pick-up my bike and push it as I was riding. My armor was keeping my body safe but my bike was starting to take a beating. A quick inventory showed that I had already broken my front and rear turn signals and my throttle spring wasnt quite working properly anymore. Plus I was getting very hot and tired. It appears that plastic does not breathe very well. Worst of all, it was getting close to noon and I was not quite sure where I was anymore.

"No problem", I thought, "I have my GPS." I took the gadget out my bag, waited for five minutes for it to acquire the needed sattellites and then looked with trepedition at the guidance it provided. The way back did not look easy. In fact, it looked a lot harder than the route I had just taken. Funny how things work that way.

To make a long story just a little shorter, getting back was a challenge. I was no longer fueled by the reckless abandon that had pushed me so far earlier in the day. I was tired and hot and the bike was not riding as well as it had. Good riding requires a bold attitude. I was being timid and timidity is not a recipe for successful dirt riding. Nonetheless, I eventually made it to the park exit just a few minutes beyond my pre-set time and headed home.

I arrived at the hanger a little more fatigued than I probably should have been prior to a flight. The soreness that I knew would arrive later hadnt appeared yet but the physical exertion had taken its toll. "Suck it up," I told myself. Its time to fly.

I shared a six hour flight period with a Captain who was returning to Fort Campbell after training to be a test pilot. He turned out to be a "stick hog". That means that the IP let him monopolize most of the flight time. I spent four of the six hours sitting in the back of the blackhawk, watching the action through the green glow of my goggles. I was impressed with his flying and with how much better the night vision goggles at Campbell are than the ones we trained with at Rucker. The official word on these night vision devices is that they give just about 20/20 visual acuity and I could believe it.

I'd like to say that I was disspointed to only get two hours of flight time. I'd be lying. I was relieved. I had trouble concentrating for the two hours I flew.

I dont think It would be smart to go riding anymore on the morning prior to an afternoon flight . . .espcially not alone. Then again, if I only made smart choices where would I be now?