With 30-plus years of riding dirtbikes under my kidney belt, I have met a lot of people and seen a lot of different things happen to riders; the footage in my mind includes bizarre scenarios and crazy turns of events. All that came back during a recent outing with Julius Spindler, the latest dualsporter to join the informal group I ride with. Like us, he’s an individual with huge enthusiasm for riding motorcycles when few others will. Early spring here on southern Vancouver Island generally means good rides, particularly after enduring cold rain and wind-lashed conditions throughout the winter—rays of sunshine and rising thermometers bring an inner happiness when traipsing through the woods.

Julius has been joining us for the last few months and has become quite successful at piloting his oversized DR650 Suzuki through the mixture of trails we’ve thrown at him. Today promised more of same, but as trail boss for the occasion, I was looking for something extra. So, with local off-road legend Barry Remple in our company, we would lean a little on the Trials side of dualsporting. Barry’s dualsport of choice for the day was an XR650R Honda, a machine that’s a handful in the weight and bulk departments but can get going fast if given the space. Coming off an injury, Barry thought a dualsport ride would be good rehab exercise for his ailing elbow. I figured with Julius along, we’d have a nice mix of talent to balance our ride, and since Cowboy Steve Larter, who rides an Aprilia RXV5.5, had called in hungover, the wild card had been withdrawn.

What could be better? It was spring, I had the day off and a good dualsport ride with Barry and Julius was in the works. With four hours to play with, we headed off into the rugged back country of the Vancouver Island Range, which runs down most of the length of the island on the east side. Dotted with lakes, and with lots of windfall in the tangled rainforest, the going was to be eventful on this wet ground.

The highway turned to two-track dirt and then to trail and though it was sunny in Victoria, high atop Malahat Mountain we encountered what seemed to be the only cloud in view. The rain began to fall lightly, creating a surreal atmosphere over the logged, barren summit. We were covering open ground fast around one of a series of lakes that fall within the Greater Victoria water supply area. Then we rolled between lines of trees set tightly together and broke into a brisk pace while quickly adjusting to the changing ground cover of roots, rocks and fallen trees. Extensive logging has changed the landscape here, creating erosion and other forms of environmental damage. And to think that people complain about the impact of dirtbikes!

Barry kept gaining ground on us here while Julius was pushing hard to control his more street-biased DR650. The challenging environment made us work hard for every turn of the wheel and it was soon apparent that we were over-dressed, so the layers were peeled away. Before long though, we were off the mountain range and in a coffee shop in the village of Mill Bay, north of Victoria. Next stop was a quarry at Shawnigan Lake, the site of a played-out silver mine that is now set for a housing development. Its current role is as an off-road fun park with myriad skill-testing hill climbs and obstacles.

Perhaps it was the full moon phase of the month, but it was here that Julius began acting strangely. He was somehow under the illusion that he was aboard a full-on dirtbike and began running up some tricky, brutal climbs. I was a little shocked when he outdid my line up a short, steep ledge. In what seemed a bad bout of target fixation, he chose a line with giant rock outcropping, then ploughed his bike into it. On a past ride Julius had dented his swingarm—a feat I had seldom seen. Now a dented frame, smashed gas tank and crunched oil cooler accompanied the previous damage; hard hits to handle, but they did not faze our hero, Julius.

We watched as Barry climbed one of the bigger hills. I stared in awe remembering my last failed attempt at the same climb that required outside assistance to haul my KLX over the top. But, true to a dirtbiker’s nature, it didn’t take much persuasion from Barry to get me to give it another try. I charged the hill, crested the top, then punched the sky with my fist in a motion of triumph.

Before I could even reach the bottom, Julius promptly roar up the incline at ferocious speed. Not since the Crusty Demons of Dirt had I seen such stunning crash action. The DR650 flew in one direction while Julius was launched in the other, his hands high in the air as if grabbing for some invisible rope that might halt his rapid descent.

t took no time at all for him to get back on his bike though, pumped-up like a 12-year-old who’s just discovered a new thing. He came tearing back down the hill choosing the toughest line on the way down and,, almost crashing from sheer enthusiasm, approached Barry and I with an ear-to-ear grin. We congratulated Julius on his stellar performance, examined the additional damage to his Suzuki and headed off into the trees in search of our next adventure.

Before long, a fallen tree hanging waist height across the trail had everyone pitching in to haul the bikes over. When it was time for Julius to cross, he twisted the throttle a little late on his approach, throwing the mighty DR650 into a wheelie that threatened all of our lives. At the balance point, the bike teetered like a dualsport anvil. Julius could have run for cover, but instead kept a tight hold on the grips, then pivoted and pulled the attacking bike back to the forest floor.

We all looked at each other with a sigh of relief and knew this ride had run its course. Soaking wet with perspiration, our heavy clothing was now a liability as it cooled our bodies on the crisp spring day. The trail turned to two-track, and then dirt road into a suburb, and onto a paved surface. A cool ice tea and snack at the general store in the town of Shawnigan Lake was a perfect ending to a great outing.

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