Psycho Hillbilly Crackheads from Hell (Or, “How I Spent my Memorial Da

[Dan Diego 40]

Psycho Hillbilly Crackheads from Hell (Or, “How I Spent my Memorial Day Weekend)

It was to be an enjoyable weekend of motorcycle camping at a secluded spot—a shakedown ride for a summer ride to Canada and Alaska. It morphed into a drug-fueled soundtrack consisting of bluegrass, AC/DC, hip hop/rap, radio static, what sounded like painful sex acts and hillbillies yelling, “yeeeeee-haaaaawww!!!” All at maximum volume. I was subjected to this delightful scene between the hours of 11pm and 7am.

Ah, but let me start from the beginning…

My riding partner, Dan (that's Dan Rider, to you), recently suggested a second and final shakedown ride to make sure our camping gear was ready for the wilds of Canada.

He knew just the spot, a hidden campground in the middle of the Cleveland National Forest., a place so far from civilization that he predicted no one would even be there but us. Perfect, I said. Let’s go.

We met at San Diego’s finest back-country biker bar, the Hideout Saloon in Santa Ysabel (http://www.thehideoutsaloon.com), on Sunday afternoon for a planning session and a couple warm-up brews.

By 5pm we had reached the spot, tucked away in the hills and 7 miles down a little road.

Dan was correct as there was only one other car parked there, a young couple tent camping. We selected a spot away from them and set up our gear.

Everything appeared to be going well; the tents and cooking gear were in fine order. We started a campfire as the sun went down and sat back to enjoy a couple big San Diego Lost Abbey brews (http://lostabbey.com/).

By 10pm we were both ready to turn in and try out our sleeping bags and air mattresses (yes, we are old and no longer enjoy sleeping on the hard ground).

It was almost exactly 11pm when I heard the first, “yeeeee-haaaaaww!!” The hillbilly holler was accompanied by the all too clichéd bluegrass banjo music (My Old Kentucky Home, no kidding.) My tent was lit up by a large truck’s headlights pointing right at my tent. I scrambled to grab the necessary hardware to confront the unwelcome guests and unzipped my tent at surprising speed for a tired old guy full of local beer.

As I jumped out of my tent, wearing naught but boxers and a Smith & Wesson, I faced a scene from Deliverance. Instead of squealing like a pig, I inquired “semi-nicely” as to their intent. The 3 men and a little lady looked intrigued as to who would spoil their good time. The big truck’s engine was revved for effect, of course. The bluegrass music was turned up even louder, of course. And off the truck screeched in a show of backcountry lunacy. Of course.

Holy cow. I just stood there and listened to them race through the campground, hooting and hollering. The only other sound was Dan’s impressive snoring coming from deep within his tent. You have gotta be kidding!

I went back inside my tent and listened as the group proceeded to whoop loudly, smoke crack, sing along with the radio – badly, may I add— and make all sorts of love to that poor girl. It would have been amusing, funny, even, if I hadn’t been so tired. I am amazed at how the other couple who were camping directly across from this redneck disaster tolerated the fiasco, but they did, apparently.

Dawn broke by 5am and I could take it no longer; I’d slept not one wink. I dressed, sat in my camp chair and made coffee as I listened to the catastrophe wind down. And it did, too, at 7am sharp. I guess their crack/meth wore off at the same time that Dan’s Ambien did, because all of a sudden the radio noise died and Dan stumbled sleepily from his tent.

“Did you hear music just now?” Said Dan as he rubbed his eyes.

I looked at him incredulously. It took all I had to now toss my hot coffee at him.

“Are you serious?” I sputtered? “You didn’t hear any of that?”

“Of what?” Asked Dan.

“In. Frickin. Credible. Just amazing.” That’s all I could say.

Dan warmed up some coffee as he listened to me recount the Hillbilly Massacre of 2014. He chuckled as I recalled the hooting and/or hollering I endured; the 2 hours of full-volume radio static; the high-fiving, love making, crack smoking lewdness that was now silently passed out in the dirt just 100 yards from our campsite.

Dan asked me why the redneck quartet acted as they did, especially in such a nice campground. I could only reply that the cretins’ neighbors would never allow such thoughtless merriment to occur in their trailer park. That was only a guess.

We packed up camp and left by 8:30. The only evidence of the madness I’d listened to for 8 solid hours was a lone hillbilly, leaning unsteadily on a truck and 3 lifeless bodies lying in the dirt alongside of him. I revved my bike’s motor for effect, but the group was too far out of it to even realize we were there.

True story. Good times…

[downs 1]

Yellow post campsites man. THat's where it's at. Me and my buddy spent 3 nights up on Santa Rosa Mountain at a yellow post site. Only saw a handful of people. Couldn't hear anyone. Very quiet. They're scattered though SOCAL. Free as well. I've only stayed in an established campground with showers and what not once since I moved here march of last year.

[danrider 5]

Mr. Dan Diego is right about the Crackheads from hell. I just got through it dreaming of our up coming ride to AK. Yes I did hear them in the morning and could not believe what I was hearing. They were really some back A$$ idiots. But you never approach idiots on drugs because you do not know how long they have been up and how they will react. But what a big disappointment they are, I was no saint when I was young, but I had something these Hillbillies did not have and that is respect. These are the kind of guys you hope your kids never run into or yourself for that matter.

[dstss 27]

Sounds like a wild weekend.

[paulmbowers 236]

And yet people often ask me why I don't camp.

I have camped, and I've had this kind or experience more than once. You know, just a little war-whopping and some crazy love, and some guy wants me to keep it down. Just having a little bit of fun in the wilderness.

So I don't camp anymore. Too many quiet people.

[Oracle 195]

This is exactly why I carry a Glock 22 and shovel with me every time I got camping....

[Vacman 0]

And yet people often ask me why I don't camp.

I have camped, and I've had this kind or experience more than once. You know, just a little war-whopping and some crazy love, and some guy wants me to keep it down. Just having a little bit of fun in the wilderness.

So I don't camp anymore. Too many quiet people.

That explains a lot actually.

[TrophyHunter 15]

Very well written. Yeah, too far out to do a full confrontation unless you're committed to shooting someone over a little haymaking. Meth, idiots & a vagina = bad combo for getting rest.

[ThumperBob 21]

Yeah Dan,

You did the right thing. That was not a situation where confrontation would be advised. Hell, it will always be a great story to tell!! It is just to bad some people have no respect for others.

Ride safe!

[Yeti 0]

Reminds me of the "Crazy Russians."

Neil (who used to live here) and I rode up to my in-laws in Oregon one very hot and dry summer. Our second night, we camped at Lake Fashoda, high up in the mountains to the north east of Yosemite. Did I mention it was hot and dry? As we were eating dinner a pickup truck full of Russians showed up and started setting up camp next to us, including emptying a pickup truck bed full of logs. They proceeded to start a camp fire, nay, a bonfire, nay, a conflagration which was barely contained by their fire pit. Once the fire got going good, the vodka bottles came out and they commenced dancing, singing and fire breathing until about 3 am. The very high fire danger kept Neil and I awake all night to the point that Neil actually snuck over and doused their fire around 4am.

Needless to say, we were not happy. We did get our revenge by firing up our bikes and revving them very loudly until they stumbled out of their tents, the men in their greasy wife-beaters and the women in, not kidding, full length fur coats!!

[Mikey777 44]

You should have jumped in. More the merrier!

[Dan Diego 40]

You should have jumped in. More the merrier!

Stand by for, as Paul Harvey says, the REST of the story...

[Mikey777 44]

Three guys and a girl usually doesn't involve "love" making either!

[danrider 5]

No way! that is abused and used equipment

[Kris 0]

Was that Indian Flats Campground on Lost Valley Road near Warner Springs ? It`s about 7 miles in from 79 near the glider port Pretty well known campground.that will fill up ! I have been going there for years.

[Dan Diego 40]

I won't confirm nor deny that you named the spot, but the initials to the place are IFC.

Note: No Appalachian-Americans were harmed in documenting this event.