Attack of the Covid-19 Moto-Flashbacks

By Paul Fenn

Contributing Editor

I was brushing my teeth on a recent cold, wet, virus-tinged Sunday morning when without invitation a vivid memory of a particular S-bend along the Ganaraska Trail flashed me with such unnerving vividness that it felt like a message from beyond the realm of the living. I stopped brushing my teeth to let it wash through, while staring out the bathroom window at the green doing its best to press itself up and into life in my frigid backyard.

This was probably the 400^th time in the last week such dirty flashbacks had shot through my memory.

I have yet to ride in 2020

My bike, a KTM 950 Super Enduro, is currently awaiting parts and the helping hand of a riding buddy with the carburational touch that I lack to make things right again. It runs, but due to some dodgy O-rings at the fuel intake it could theoretically burst into flames at any moment while in use. And you know, I’d normally not care about a little fire hazard, but since that leaky carb, the rear one, is located directly under my man-bits – as well as the KTM’s plastic gas tank, which is 3/4 full, and a pandemic's an ill-advised moment in time to end up in a burn ward, I’m trying to be patient, rather than a patient.

This S-bend is unique

Offering up everything that that keeps a fool like me addicted to offroad riding on an oversized bike of around 110hp, it begins with a certain mix of sand, rocks and dirt that together facilitate the handy drift. And it’s uphill, so if you come into it with too much travel, merely backing off the throttle a titch tends to set you right. Enter the first section, a gentle right, there’s a wee berm on the left to lean into and accelerate hard from, and with just enough good traction. Then comes a straightaway of about 100ft with a few two-foot moguls enabling the getting of small air, the type that throws your rear end off the straight-ahead in a pleasantly violent manner, but if tempered with the application of sufficient throttle, lets that rear end duly figure itself out.

Exit strategies abound

The second bend, a left, sees the rider approach a berm that’s really just a steep, tree-free concave dirt wall that extends some 20ft high. Meaning, if you’ve got the chops, you can approach it at speed, drop-lean into it at the appropriate angle, and throttle hard off its apex into the ether, landing mid-trail, all set for the fast downhill wheelie-happy section that follows.

What’s great about this wall is you never really master it. It's steep enough that it can always absorb a little more speed and lean angle, made more tempting by the way it releases you so nicely that no matter how fast you fly off it, you always land smack on top of a hill crest with just enough time and real estate to punch the throttle for wheelie-air, then a big landing on the downhill section.

The same old trail never gets old – not on a 950SE

I’ve been riding the Oak Ridges/Ganny trails for at least 10 years, probably around 50 times a year. It’s how I used to visit my sweet mama, Kay (who died a year ago, a few weeks before her 88th) when she lived in Cobourg. I’d knock off early at around 3pm on Fridays, zoom from home in Etobicoke across Toronto to beat the Hwy 401 rush-hour, taking the Metro Zoo exit, crossing the Rouge River near Old Finch Ave and, boom, into the countryside. Another few miles and you're on the beginning of 45min of gravel roads through beautiful farmlands to the gun club at Purple Woods, where the trails start.

Gravel from Scarborough to the Oak Ridges Trail

The Oak Ridges takes you to the fabulous Ganaraska Forest trail system which itself takes you all the way to Bewdley on the west end of Rice Lake. From there I'd take gravel and sometimes the tricky swampy road allowances between farm fields southward to my mom’s, in downtown Cobourg. By the time I’d arrive, about a 120km crow flight from my front door, I’d have done five hours of fast dirt with only about 45min of pavement required.

You love your mother more after a long dirt ride

If I remembered to call her on the way, she'd hear me arrive and come to the front door with a smile and tumbler of whiskey-rocks in hand for me. A quick shower, then I’d walk to the grocer’s to stock up, come back, pour Kay her nightly glass of red, then cook her up a big feed, usually Da Food Bomb (chicken chunks, chopped veggies and lots of garlic, ginger, chili and red wine, oven baked in a Pyrex dish). We’d watch a movie till she’d nod off to sleep, and she'd shuffle off to bed.

I’d then sit and reflect on how lucky I was being able to mix dirt biking with respectable amounts of filial responsibility.

I’d sleep in, then make us coffee and a hearty breakfast, hang out reading the papers with Kay till 2pm or so, suit up, hop back on the beast and redo the same trail system in reverse, with plenty of detours, back to Toronto. My sister and a couple of caregivers saw to her during the rest of the week.

Here’s a taste of that ride

I can’t find any GoPro footage of that exact S-bend. But to convey the essence of my Toronto-Cobourg ritual, here’s 16.5. minutes of the Oak Ridges Trail, from late-season 2016. No music, no edits, just me hooning along, occasionally yammering to myself incoherently.

Damn, how I miss that ritual

I miss every detail -- of before, during and after it. The suiting up in the garage, the knee braces, the boots, the armour, the jersey, the cleaning of the visor, the choosing of the music, then blasting across the megacity to the first of the gravel.

Mostly I just miss Kay Fenn

She was funny as hell, just bubbling over with silliness and love. Still, I'm glad both she and my father, who went five years ago, did not have to live through this shitstorm of disease and, most recently in Nova Scotia, mass murder.

This is a test, a mere sampling of our new world order

I know some of you are riding through the pandemic. If you are, I wish you eternal verticality and virus-free living. For those of you not riding, if you're not too busy, we’d love to read in the comments below about the particular details, places or curious ritual aspects of riding, on or offroad, that have been tugging at your memory strings lately.

Get more of these here.