Eagle Canyon Motorcycle Race Weekend Day Three
I woke up with a scratchy throat. Rain and gray clouds matched my fatigue and I was happy to curl up in the cab of the truck and take a nap in between chapters of Helen McInne’s Message from Malaga. Glen disappeared with his cameras but checked in on me every hour or so. Around noon the sun appeared and although the track was still muddy, I was able to scout around and find some lovely samples of ammonites. I had hoped to find petrified wood but my husband pointed out that if I were finding bottom of the ocean things, there wasn’t much chance of finding wood.
Lunch was leftover Frilly’s, nearly as good cold as it was hot the night before. We chatted briefly with another racer who noted that the mud was a formidable force and the unevenness of the wet, dry, and mud made for a difficult run. Crashed bikes were found fifty to sixty feet off the track; one was still upright, its wheels so encased in mud it could not fall over. An end-loader was needed to retrieve one bike.
We took advantage of the sun to take photos of the Petrified Wood Gas Station and the courthouse. Supper was at Catfish O’harlies; the food plain but plentiful and we retired to our hotel room to upload photos and have a glass of cheap Sangria—strictly medicinal for my scratchy throat, of course.
More photos are on smugmug http://ysr612.smugmug.com/gallery/7592326_ha2qR#490848516_DkWHX
My apologies for the unkempt appearance of my last entry. My usual habit is to write, then edit carefully and post when I am home. This is the first time I’ve used the internet resources of the hotel.