Group ride in the Ozarks

Much of the week is spent visiting with our friends, meeting new riders to the group, and mixing with the campground’s regular customers. Evenings are spent around campfires with many stories and much laughter.  About forty people from our group show up to the event. The nice thing of having a group this size is that there’s little pressure for everyone to spend all their time in one large group. While there are a few large group rides together, everyone tends to split into smaller groups to visit various places in the region.

Locals suggest that we tour some of the local grist mills, so, being that I have a GPS, I plan out that ride based on the vague directions (“go down the road a ways, then turn at the old church, and …”). We organize more than half of the group, and head to one of the old mills that has a fish hatchery and features local trout at their restaurant. At one time, the property in Rockmill, Missouri, was a small town. Several buildings remain from the old bank and mill, and there are cabins that can be rented. The old general store has been rebuilt as a restaurant, and we enjoy an incredible lunch.

I continue leading the ride down the narrow local roads, looking for the next mill on the tour. At one point, I feel like I must have passed the stop, so find an intersection where we try to turn around. Apparently, the mill is not where I thought it was, so I decide to skip it (and another potentially dangerous U-turn) and head to the next stop.  We find a gas station, and I pull in.  Many of the bikes need fuel, and most of us need a restroom after lunch. Some of the guys near the back of the group arrive and tell me that someone behind them had gone off the road.

Now, I should explain that the proper ‘protocol’ in these situations is that you are supposed to keep an eye out for the bike behind you.  If they aren’t there, you slow down or stop. The guy in front of you sees that you are gone, and they stop, and it moves up the chain to the front of the pack.  A group of even a dozen bikes forms a long chain, and the leader cannot see the back of the pack, so the ‘protocol’ is necessary.

As our group doesn’t ride together but once or twice a year, I make note that we need to add a pre-ride speech from now on.  But, for now, with such a large group, it makes more sense for them to wait at the gas station where there is shade and cool beverages, and two of us head back to find the missing people.

As we’re heading back, we see the chase vehicle going the other way.  We split up, and the other guy goes to follow the truck, and I continue to look for the missing bikes. I find them a few miles up the road.  Apparently, one of the guys, Steve, didn’t manage a turn and went off the road. Luckily, there was plenty of grass to soften the fall, and he walked away from it, but he got banged up and was in pain. One of the neighbors stopped to help and gave directions to the local hospital, and the chase vehicle was taking the rider there. We get the bike out of the grass, and ride it to a parking area off the road.  While everything was under control at the accident scene, I head to the hospital.

As I arrive at the hospital, they are just finished patching Steve up.  He’s bruised up, but nothing major is broken. They prescribe some pills for the pain, and tell him to not ride for a few days (I don’t think that will be a problem, until we get his bike checked out).  I congratulate Steve on winning the “off-road” competition for the year.  Luckily, he gets a laugh out of it.  I’ve known him for years, and have done several road trips with him, even his virgin ride to Sturgis in 2000. He’s a determined fellow, and I know that he will put this past him.

We get a call that they got his bike back to the campground, and we meet everyone there.  Ken, our friend from Washington, is quite mechanical, and he road Steve’s bike back to camp. It was ridable, and, other than some noises (that might be a normal part of the bike), it ran without a problem.  Certainly, he will need to get it looked over, but that can wait until Steve gets home.  Some of the others in the campground have room on their trailer, and offer to get the bike at least half-way back to Ohio.  From there, I suggest that Steve have a dealership take a look at it, and when it is done (he should be healed by then), we can take him to pick it up.  In the end, he rode the bike back to Columbus the last four hours.  Yay, Steve!  He got back on the ‘horse’, as they say.

Next: Wrapping up the camping trip