The Hill of Doom

Soon after Paul's first race he bought himself a motorcycle. At the Sage Riders he had borrowed our cousin's Yamaha WR250. The bike seemed to do great in a lot of terrain, especially single track, (Picture: Flowers on the Bomb Run) but Paul has always been a fan of endless power, and the 250 had left him wanting. So he picked up a 2002 Yamaha WR426 hoping it would have such power.

We had always ridden our dad's bikes, and they were always stock with maybe a larger gas tank to help with the long rides in Baja. With this new (to him anyways) bike Paul dug in to find his inner mechanic and open up the bike to release the power within. Riding this bike reminds me of the XR650 I rode in Baja...and it came to pass that I was pleased.

Right after Paul purchased his bike there was another race coming up. Knowing that we shared the dream of racing, and that this upcoming race had a Team Class, he invited me to come race it with him. So my first race had finally come: Buzzards Hare Scrambles in Spring of 2007.

The course consisted of two loops of the same 25 miles. Paul would race the first half (because honestly I was still jittery about the start line) and then when he came into the pits I would take over and repeat the loop. 25 miles was nothing for us...on the terrain we were used to...but with the type of terrain these desert races had who knew what to expect? However we had heard this wouldn't be quite as different for us as what Sage Riders had been so we were optimistic. With each of us taking a loop we should have plenty of energy to push hard on our loop in order to place well.

I'm still quite glad I didn't start the race - the sage brush was tall and thick and more than a few guys went down when they didn't avoid it. Still it was exciting to watch, as all these starts are, and I was getting psyched as the race began.

Waiting at the pits was excruciating. Even more so than at his first race, (Picture: The WR426 in all it's glory with its commanders for the day. Paul on the left, me on the right. No I am not photogenic.) largely due to the fact that when he came back, it was my turn. It didn't seem to take long for the first Experts to start coming back to the pits. We were at the end of Pit Row and a part of the course came by pretty near to us and it was fun to watch them flying through. The first place overall rider was impressively fast, and I suddenly felt very unskilled and unsure about my own riding ability.

Paul came in and the course layout disoriented him a bit - he stopped right on the course near the pits and yelled to ask if that was where he turned in. Sadly no - he had another 5 miles to go before coming into the pits. But now I knew my time had come - I had no idea what to expect and I was incredibly nervous. He rolled in and we put a little gas in the bike and I hopped on ready to go. He let me know that about 12 miles in there was a gnarly hill climb that gave him a lot of trouble and told me to try and find an alternate route because it would slow me down. In my head I thought that if I could beat the hill first try it would not only stroke my ego but give me a one-up in the competition between brothers department. A hard lesson was to be learned this day.

Since we were at the end of pit row I took off and went up the hill behind us on the course - knowing full well I was being watched by many I turned it on and nearly crashed on the way up...providing at the very least some comical entertainment for those watching which included Paul, his family, and my family. I didn't make it far before the first problems occurred; within a mile I turned a corner and stalled the (Picture: In the Team Class, you line up with the Amateur's. This was our line up) bike, and the two guys I had just passed prior to that passed me right by again while I struggled to start it up again. I got it going again and headed off on the course.

I was amazed at how quickly I became winded and tired. Adding the stress of the race, the physical demands of pushing my ability to the limit, and the concentration level I was operating at totaled up to a massive stitch in my side which persisted for the next 12 miles. I had a difficult time breathing and found myself wanting to stop and rest - which I didn't do until I was "forced" to. I had always thought myself in decent shape, with my endurance a strong point for my physique. But this race showed me that I was nothing and before I had gone 5 miles exhaustion was showing signs.

Stalling the bike continued to be a problem for me. Even though I had had a chance to take the bike for a practice ride the week before (where the stalls were an issue for me as well) I had not been able to overcome this challenge yet. This was a "hot bike" as my dad would say and I wasn't used to how they worked yet so I kept stalling on corners that I would come into too fast.

Despite being winded and getting a workout that was more draining to me than anything ever before, as well as the stalling problem, I was faring pretty decently. The course was nothing so brutal as what Paul described from his first race with the Sage Riders. In fact I don't recall any deep whoops at all, though there were long sections of incessant little bumps that grew a little tiresome (funny though - I can remember thinking that then, and now that I've raced a lot more I would love for a course to have those again!). There were some pretty tight single track that took getting used to, as well as a super sketchy hill descent. The course also included a few places with some fast jeep road that I used to my full advantage.

It seems it was only a few miles in when my camelback broke...I didn't notice it right away, but the mouthpiece had come off and was leaking all over me. I suddenly noticed my legs were wet and was wondering if I had inadvertently peed my pants due to the nervousness...to my (somewhat) relief that was not the case as the hose from my camelback was still shooting water everywhere. My only choice at this point was to keep it in my mouth, which would prove to cause me some problems later on.

Despite all this I was able to make several passes which made me feel great, though thinking back on it, as tired as I might have been (Picture: A great shot from the Expert Wave. Be sure to compliment my wife Sarah on her great photography if you see her) I'm sure I was a lot more energized than those who were going through this for a second time. But still I was making passes on Novices, Amateurs, and even a few Experts - it was a great ego boost!

After several hill climbs, which were moderately difficult but nothing most riders couldn't handle I began to wonder where this hill climb was that gave Paul so much trouble. I hadn't seen anyone in a while and wondered if I was past it. I had lost track of the mileage but I thought I might have been past the 12 mile mark. There was one hill descent that scared me quite badly, and I wondered if maybe he had had to go up that but then they changed the course or something. Kind of a stupid thing to think looking back, but I couldn't shake the thought of the hill he warned me about. Where was it?

I came through a mud bog and saw a bunch of riders off the course a ways, and then noticed a bunch more up ahead. The trail turned into some trees and then began a gentle incline. Quite suddenly there were racers everywhere; some heading off the trail in different directions, some just hanging out chatting with others, a couple guys laying down looking like they were taking a nap. I didn't have time to really take it all in and wonder what was going on before the trail took a sharp turn and then went up.

It caught me off guard but I quickly turned on the gas and headed up the hill. I quickly realized this was the hill that gave Paul problems, because it was very steep, sandy and washed out with big rocks strewn about either side (also strewn about were riders and bikes as well). I was handling it great and was about 3/4's of the way up when my front tire hit the steepest part of the trail and came off the ground. I was about to go over backwards but I quickly got off and caught the bike as if I had done it on purpose (you know what I mean? Like when you ride a bmx bike and pop a wheelie and then put your feet down and hold it standing up). I turned to the right and brought the front wheel down and moved off the trail to make sure I wouldn't be an obstacle for someone else.

My ego got the better of me here - had I just gotten back on the (Picture: Paul at the start, waiting for the banner to drop. The Bomb Run starts are dead engine, so when the banner drops you fire it up and hit the gas.) bike, gone off the trail a couple feet or so and finished the last 1/4 of the hill I would have made about 30 passes in that super short distance and helped our finishing place a great deal. Instead I turned the front wheel down the hill so I could make another attempt.

Thus, The Hill of Doom.

It's frustrating to look back and think about this, but at least I learned a valuable lesson from doing so - as in, never make that mistake again! Just watching people attempt the hill should have given me reason not to retry - it had become so washed out that pretty much nobody else was making it up. They were taking alternate lines to either side of the trail or going for anything else they could find where ever it may be.

I got to the bottom and instead of using the trail for my approach I went off to the side a bit to get a straight shot at the climb. My mistake on this attempt was impatience. A couple people attempted to make it before I went and crashed and were still on the trail. I picked a line to go around them, but I should have waited for them to clear out instead. As a result I only made it up halfway before crashing. The cons of the WR426 showed at this point. It is one very heavy bike when it's tipped over, especially when it's tipped over on a hill. It's a great deal lighter than my dad's XR400's, but still, the WR is a heavy bike. It was apparent that weight lifting would also be in my future as my skinny little arms struggled with picking the bike up again.

Between these two tries I was spent - I came back down to the bottom of the hill and parked the bike and sat down to rest. I was nearly out of water at this point in my camelback and all the exertion spent on the hill had made me a little nauseous (water logged!). While I sat there the huge group of racers that had been there began to thin out - new comers to the hill didn't even attempt it and found ways around. Before long there were only a handful of us left - stubborn people who wouldn't let the hill win.

I probably waited 20 minutes or more before my third try and with that one I got to the original 3/4's high location I made it to on my first try. This time the bike did go over backwards and I didn't have the strength to catch it. I lost 1/4 of the hill as a result, moved the bike over to the side and rested some more. After this whole Hill experience I decided that I wasn't strong enough to be a desert racer and have since tried to improve my strength endurance. That means going to the gym, which I'm back and forth on with consistency. But it is a positive side effect of racing - I'm much more careful about my health and fitness than I have been my whole life.

Not wanting to repeat the mistake that I made on the first try, I got the bike going again and tried to head up to the right of the trail. It was difficult going from a dead stop like that in the middle of a steep hill climb - the front tire kept wanting to come up and the back tire wasn't gripping on much. I regained that 1/4 of the hill I had lost in the last attempt but ran out of steam. I stopped to rest again.

The other stragglers that were still there had banded together to help each other out and were walking one bike up the hill at a time. The first bike was a little Honda CRF150R. It shouldn't have been too big a deal since it's fairly lightweight, but even for 4 of them it was proving a challenge. Feeling bad just watching them I helped out and after much struggling we got the bike up.

Looking at some of the other bikes left to go up was disheartening. That little Honda was a tough job, and the others guys were riding much bigger, heavier bikes. Luckily though the challenge to get those up never came.

I say that a little mockingly - it wasn't all that lucky because a major ego-killing moment had arrived...the first sweeper showed up. I'm not (Picture: The banner is down and they're off! Paul off the start on the right side of the picture just above the girl's hands.) sure how much time had passed since I first got there, but apparently a lot of time had gone by. Sweepers come through at the end of the race to make sure everyone gets home safe. I was under the impression that if you get caught by a sweeper then you DNF the race. Thankfully that wasn't the case this time, but I was worried that it would be.

Since I was closest to the top the sweeper came to help me first - he fired the bike right up and finished the last 1/4 of the hill like it was nothing. I was humbled for sure, and mad at myself as well. But I didn't get a DNF - he said to hop on and finish the race...he was going to help everyone else. With that, the Hill of Doom was now behind me...a lesson well learned.

Still not sure how the whole "sweeping" thing worked, I got back on the trail with renewed energy to finish the race so I wouldn't get caught by the sweeper again. Thankfully the rest of the course was pretty tame and I completed it with relative ease and very quickly. With about 6 miles left my stitch came back (thanks to all the rest at The Hill it had abated for a while) so I had to slow down a bit. As I came on to the part of the course that was near the pits I could see someone standing next to the trail. I got closer and could see it was Paul - it looked like I had the same effect on him for my part in this race as he had had on me for his entire first race. I stopped to let him know I was fine and that I had spent all my time at the Hill instead of racing, handed him my broken camelback and then proceeded to finish the last 5 miles of the course.

(Picture: We didn't know him yet, but the guy at the head of the pack in this picture is a good friend now. Here he is getting the "holeshot" in the Novice Wave; the infamous Carlo Sanchez)

We got the finisher's pin, so the sweeper that helped me out didn't cause us to DNF thankfully; finished 171 out of 215 finishers overall...4th out of 6 Teams. It was a fantastic course looking back - I would love the opportunity to ride it again, and it was a great first race and experience for me.

I was pretty hooked after this and wanted to do more. Unfortunately I did not have my own motorcycle, and not every race of the season had a Team class. Paul wasn't going to race the next one and was going to let me race it instead with his bike, but just a few days before that race I realized my schedule wouldn't allow it. After that Paul made every race of the season (I think). There were only a couple more that I could have raced Team with him, but there was always some commitment that I had already made that got in the way. So that would be my only race for 2007, but it was enough to get me to plan for 2008. I needed a bike, and I wasn't sure how I would get one to race, but I was going to race in 2008 for sure.