In memory of what rmd used to be, here's a ride (race) report. I
enjoyed writing it, hope y'all enjoy reading it.
(also can be found at http://hwdinc.posterous.com/a-desert-race for
web-types)
I've always wanted to compete in a desert race. Despite growing up and
learning to ride in the desert of Southern California I'd never raced
in it and it's part of every On Any Sunday addict's DNA. I had my
chance last week. We drove to the high desert about 80 miles east of
Reno, took a non-descript exit off I-80 about 9:30 pm Friday night and
headed up a dirt road, stirring dust and jackrabbits along our route.
About a mile later we spotted an oasis of trailers and pickups off to
the side, pulled in and found an open spot between other racers and
set up camp. It was a beautiful still night in the desert, about 75°F,
stars blazing, and we could see the faint lights of trucks moving on
I-80 about 500' below us and a mile out on the valley floor. I was
happy I had my pit crew with me this time.
Signups were over for the night, so I set my alarm for 6 am, we
climbed the ladder and went to sleep.
The next morning I quickly made coffee and stumbled out into the dawn
to get signed up. I was the first one there, and they weren't quite
ready--no Jart charts yet, and the key time clock wasn't even set up!
Got assigned to minute 11, and headed back to get my number on the
bike and the clock set up. As I walked back to camp I could see we
were in some beautiful country.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6178/6226729093_b8551c80e8_b.jpg
Had time for breakfast, all the preparation was done. Time to get to
the start line.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6179/6226729103_8e7de478c8_b.jpg
The start of an enduro is unique. You have time while you're waiting
to talk the fellow riders on your minute‹the plan is to stay with them
the whole race.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6108/6226729125_95187b9ee6_b.jpg
You try to memorize the backs of the racers ahead of you‹the plan is
that they'll stay ahead of you the whole race.
Most of the time, the plan doesn't work.
But you still try. You check your clock one more time, make sure it's
sync'd to the key clock.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6053/6226729147_6505c5d12b_b.jpg
Finally, your minute is at the front of the line. You kill the engine
and wait.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6152/6226729151_c3a39e14ed_b.jpg
About 15 seconds before your minute, the starter gives the nod. You
kick the bike to life. The clock hits your minute‹11.00. And you
charge out even though the first 3 miles are free, no checks allowed.
You still charge.
This is what charging looks like for me...
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6238/6226729177_d8ea91a883_b.jpg
The first 3 miles were a good test. In the riders meeting that morning
we'd been warned about sand washes, rocks, single track, deep sand,
mine shafts, dust, rattlesnakes, g-outs, whoops, more rocks and more
sand. We had all that (except the snakes) in the first half mile, and
it never let up. This was a family enduro and there wasn't anything I
couldn't ride; where they got me was in the speed averages. There was
a section just after the first check that called for a 30 mph average.
It was tight twisty rocky single track or sand whoops, and when I was
able glance at my speedometer I couldn't seem to get it above 24 mph.
I lost some points in that section, but I was feeling pretty good all
in all after the first half. I'd zeroed the first check--actually, got
a 0.0010, an emergency check--and the third check and had dropped 11
points. Not great, but I hadn't hit the ground, I knew the second
loop was shorter and though I was a little tired was feeling confident
as I checked over the bike at the gas break.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6232/6226733135_484ef6f959_b.jpg
Ate my pbj, drink a big glass of iced tea, got a hug and headed back
right on my minute for the second loop. I realized I was more tired
than I thought. The first mile or so was exactly the same as the first
loop, only I could tell my reactions were slower and I just wasn't
powering through some of the harder sections like I did the first
time. I realized I was getting target-fixation, focusing on difficult
areas instead of looking through them. One part of the trail turned
sharply left across a wash and then scrambled over loose rocks piled
between 2 boulders and of course I stared at the boulder on my right
and wound up stalled with my front tire trying to climb up the 8' face
instead of just riding alongside it. I extricated my bike and rolled
on, but mentally I was out of focus, worrying about what was going
wrong instead of committing to what was ahead of me.
I tried to regain my mental focus, and slowly got some of it back, but
I was beginning to just plain tire out. The trail took us into a new
section and as often happens I couldn't see any evidence of racers
ahead or behind me. It was just me, the bike, and the occasional bits
of red & white tape marking the course. At one point again,
target-fixation; I could see a danger marker ahead, stared at the
marker, and wound up running right over it...
We were running upwind at this point, heading up a small canyon with
the trail marked right up the dry drainage bed. We'd been following
this trace for about a mile, working our way up hill, when we climbed
a small ridge, made an abrupt left turn, and came to a dreaded
bottleneck without warning. The draw went up very steeply in a channel
of loose shale, gravel and dirt for about a quarter mile; very steep,
very loose, and littered with stalled riders. And here's where I made
my biggest mistake. I knew, logically, that the best thing to do in a
bottleneck is to find a way around; don't bull your way through and
get caught up with the others, just find another path. But somehow
when you've been navigating by following the little strips of tape
marking the trail it seems like the most reasonable thing in the world
to just keep on following the tape and plow right ahead into the
bottleneck. Which is what I did. I made about halfway up, got stalled,
and then spun my rear wheel into a rut trying to plow my way through.
There were kids crying, dad's cussing, and my radiator started hissing
as I revved and slipped the clutch and dug myself deeper in. I stopped
for a minute to figure out how to get out, and saw the calm,
experienced riders just move over before the bottleneck to the crest
of the ridge and power up and over the bottleneck no more than 20
yards away. At least I can remember this, for next time.
I muscled the back of the bike up and out of my self-inflicted rut and
managed to bull my way up the ravine but by the time I got through it
I was spent. I had to stop and just sit on the bike, sipping water,
for a good 5 minutes while I got my breath back and my mind composed.
Slowly I headed back down a parallel ravine, one ridge to the east,
knowing I had lost a lot of time.
I had a chance to put my re-remembered knowledge to work once more.
The trail made its way down to another dry ravine, this time one that
had been deep mud in the recent past. It had been deeply rutted and
then baked in the sun--fossil ruts was what came to my mind as I rode
through them. Of course I managed to get cross-rutted. 3 times. A
cross-rutted bike tends to stop. Suddenly. And the rider tends to fly
off the bike. Suddenly. Feels like Superman, until you hit the ground.
The third time, as I'm struggling to pick my bike up, I see another
calm, experienced rider sailing along on the bench of flat land just
above the fossil rut field. One of these days, I'm going to be that
calm, experienced rider. Sooner than later, I hope.
Oh well, other than a few sore bits and pieces and a bruised ego, I
made it back to camp just fine. And ahead of the other racers on my
minute! So a minor victory there, but no trophy. Final score: 47.0022
I had a great time--there's nothing like the feeling of finishing a
race, a real sense of accomplishment.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6019/6226733155_8819b7908d_b.jpg
My pit crew was fantastic--bike ran flawlessly, and everything I
needed was there before I could ask.
To top the day off, we were treated to an amazing sunset.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6165/6226733165_06caf1c9b6_b.jpg
The desert is absolutely beautiful.
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6162/6226733203_4079060ff7_b.jpg
--
Charles
'99 YZ250
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> enjoyed writing it, hope y'all enjoy reading it.