A Syncro in the sand: a rare bird, and one most definitely not in its natural habitat. This is Longbeach, proudly proclaiming itself as the longest beach in the world. I am dubious, and will fact check when I am in the vicinity of wi-fi. Sidenote, I have become, annoyingly so, one of those people who wonders aloud at almost every opportunity if there is wi fi available. I have stopped asking in the state parks. But I am working on the road here, people, guilty conscious appeased. Prior to this trip we had been thoroughly warned that Syncros are ‘heavy bastards who like to sink in sand at any opportunity.’ I know that this isn’t necessarily the case, as many Syncro enthusiasts partake in some pretty hair-raising off-road shenanigans (see one of my personal favourites, http://www.syncro.org, for reference), but we also just have no idea what we are doing. Period. We damn near got completely tits deep in some loose sand when we attempted what looked like a mellow trail in the Oregon Dunes Recreation Area. It was sandy trail, not a dune, but I think we made the mistake of a.) not airing-down our tires, b.) stopping to look around the corner, and c.) not having any idea what we are doing. At all. Regardless, we got stuck, but we got out. No photos, because Robbie would have thrown me in the hole we left behind and left me there.
I am still in the early stages of this Syncro relationship, still mollycoddling and a bit overprotective, but this, this was fun. We made it as far south as California, where we boondocked on a river bed in the Redwoods National Forest.
The trails in and out were a bounty of rocky banks, dips and climbs. Storm didn’t even break a sweat. I’m not even sure there was a single tangerine dislodged from
our hanging fruit basket; the Trailmaster suspension kit handled it like a boss. Until we figure out what the hell we are doing, we will stay on rock.