By Thursday morning I decided to scrap my planned Goler / Mengal run and go back out there to mess with the repeater, this time on the motorcycle. Once again Henry joined me and this time Tony/tonyj joined us on his new 640. While Henry rode down to the springs for testing with a known-good radio Tony and I rode over to Hunter Cabin. Tony had never stopped there so I figured I could show him something new.
Hunter Cabin
After that we rode to the repeater’s home and hiked up the 200′ ridge in our MX boots. Weee!
We messed around with the repeater for some time until I came to the conclusion that it was borked. I believe the radio powering it failed. I wouldn’t have been so annoyed if I hadn’t had it set up at my house for two weeks where it worked wonderfully. I decided to head down into Saline Valley for some testing while Tony rode back to PSR via the Darwin Toll Road. I rode down about 16.5 miles from South Pass when I saw Henry riding up toward PSR. We decided to head back to PSR so I turned around and set the pace (slow!).
After about a mile I hear him over the radio asking to stop, he just might have a flat. He pulls up next to me and his rear tire is clearly flat. He digs his compressor out and adds air, since it seems to hold we decide to carry on, stopping to add air a few times when needed. When we got to 190 Henry told me to head out while he fills the tire, he’d hit me on the radio if he needed help. I got back on the road and made tracks for Father Crowley point. Now this is more than just a cell phone spot, if you aren’t aware that fancy paved rest area is in the wrong spot. As you’re pulling in look for the dirt road on your right. Turn down on it and continue until the end to find a great view of Panamint Valley. I ran into Isaac/Isaac004 and another there and we chatted for about twenty minutes.
I took my photos, jumped on the bike, and made my way back to PSR. I pulled directly into the gas station, filled up, and jumped on the bike to start it. As I was kicking it I heard a pop and the next thing I knew I was on the ground, I had sheared my kick stand bolt. I grumbled a bit, picked up the bike, started it, and rode off to camp to nurse my wounded pride and have a drink. I’d fix it in the morning.