USRA Round 9: Knolls Knockdown Hare Scramble

This is a crazy sport. I usually have that thought while in the bomb run each race, but it occurred to me several more times than normal this time, and at many different times. (At Left: Pit Row in the morning...WHAT) The funny thing is every race I think I've learned enough from the previous races to do everything right next time, then next time comes and it's so completely different from anything I've done before what I've learned has little application. A tribute to my naivety to be sure, given that in reality this is only my ninth race ever (unless you count my half of a race from last year with Paul). Funny...I only intended on doing five this year.

Knolls is west of Salt Lake City about 80 miles, sort of a barren sand/salt waste land - perfect for an OHV play land. I wasn't terribly excited for this race because since it is so perfect as an OHV play land it's completely whooped out, and as you might be aware by now I'm no fan of whoops.

Originally we were going to have Ethan race this one as his first race, but then he did the Cow Dung impromptu so we weren't as set on that anymore. Luckily I didn't sign him up early, as the race date got closer the weather report looked more and more ominous with forecasts for rain. Not the most fun environment for a six-year-old to race in.

So we opted out of camping out for a family weekend again and at 5:30 a.m. Saturday morning I loaded up with Carlo and headed out. It wasn't raining when we left, but it was cold. I had purchased a good rain coat and pants the night before so I wouldn't get soaked at the race, and I needed such items anyways for other purposes.

As we got closer to the riding area something started falling from the sky. I had come expecting rain...what was falling wasn't rain. It was snow. And it was falling fast and hard. I had driven through snow on the way to race before, back in February, but I wasn't worried about racing in it then. When we were driving through it we were losing elevation so I knew the snow wouldn't be at the race. This time however elevation really wasn't changing...the snow was going to be present at the race.

As we pulled into the pits I was reminded that at least I wasn't the only crazy one. There were plenty of people there and more arriving all the time. We are all crazy! It was so cold when we got out of the car, and the wind was blowing hard and visibility was really poor.

We got an early start to the shenanigans. The mini's race was about to begin and Paul and Carlo being Desert Foxes had to get out to where they would be working. Due to the cold and KTM making the amazing decision to not include a kick starter on their motorcycles, it wasn't long before we drained the batteries of both Paul and Carlo's bikes, which meant we got to get out the tow rope and pull start them both.

I forgot to mention, the Blue Tank has been revived and so we had it with us. Yet even fresh from the mechanic's shop it had a hard time starting in the cold and it took Paul and I a couple attempts each to get it fired up. As for it's problems - turns out when we had done some engine work on it back in the summer to help the starting problem we dropped a tiny metal piece down into the engine, which then proceeded to tear the stator apart. Murphy's Law strikes again!

Two days before the race and a very large repair bill later the Blue Tank was back and ready to race. After Paul finally got it started we proceeded to try and pull start his bike. Where we had parked had a good 4 inches of snow so traction was terrible and I just ended up spinning out on him a lot. We tried going down pit row to no avail either...we just couldn't get up the speed. After several failed attempts we eventually broke Carlo's tow rope.

It then dawned on Paul to use the graded rode we drove in on. It was frozen hard, not made of sand, so provided the traction needed to build up speed. Using a couple of tie-downs we went back at it. After a few tries with stinging cold and windblown eyes we got it started, so Paul took his bike to help Carlo start his.

As they were headed off to work the mini race I got started setting up my pit area. With the foxes running the race, my normal pit crew would not be able to help out. I should really get a permanent crew anyways, but I certainly don't blame anyone that wouldn't want to do it. I had fun pitting for Paul his first race, but now I'd much rather race than wait around for someone to come in. I need to find a couple people that can have a good time hanging out together who don't want to race to do it. If you know of anyone let me know!

Expecting rain, I had brought my mom's easy-up canopy. This turned out to be one of the best things I did in preparation for the race. Due to the wind I had a difficult time getting it set up, but after much trial and error I was successful. (At Right: The lineup at the start) Since we arrived early I had a lot of time prior to race time with not much to do. Much thanks to Gary who is another Desert Fox we parked by. He had a trailer there and I spent a good amount of time in it out of the weather. Also thanks to Steve who I rode out to the race with since Carlo's car was a bit crowded, as well as for the set up with the canopy. I used his trailer to prop the canopy in place so the wind wouldn't blow it away.

I cruised around the pits a bit to warm the bike up and saw a few setups that inspired me. I went back to the canopy and tilted the wind side down and then put up a tarp against the wind. This gave me a place to park the bike in complete shelter, which was useful as I had to switch out the air filter and didn't want a bunch of snow getting in there. A little bit more routine maintenance and I was set.

I went out and walked the start and made sure to pick my line and get it this time after my debacle at Cow Dung. But as fate would have it, the way this start was set up it really didn't matter a whole lot where you lined up - it just was wide open snow/sand.

In truth though this was actually the best start setup I've ever seen, granted I haven't seen many. But it was the most fun, and great for the spectators too. Wide open and flat for the first little bit, the bomb run then snaked around several large sand dunes, so it took a while for everyone to filter through onto the course making it last longer than normal.

The mini race finished up and my race was about to begin. I dressed up and the bike was ready and it was cold, but I was racing anyways! Originally this was to be more of a hare and hound style race with different loops, but due to the weather they changed it to a three loop hare scramble so that it wouldn't be as hard to get lost and they'd have a smaller area to look through for finding anyone that got lost.

Carlo brought his camera to film the starts, so you get to see what an amazing sight this was. It truly speaks to the near insanity of all desert racers, the fact that we would continue out there in weather like this. But it gives stories that will last a lifetime for sure, so I guess it's all worth it in the end. I did the editing, and borrowed a few pictures from those at MotoUtah that came to watch/work/race. Enjoy:



Go here and click "watch in high quality" for a crisper picture.

I was worried about the bike not starting. Every time I turned it off and tried to start it again it took a few kicks to get it back to life. My worries proved correct - when the banner dropped I got nothing from the bike. A few kicks later it roared to life and I tore off the line. I wasn't the last Amateur, but I was near it.

Whether it was the poor visibility (quite likely) or just general timidness (even more likely) I was able to get to about 25th position by the first turn. If you listen carefully in the video above during the Amateur start you'll hear Carlo say, "There he is!" and then pan back a bit and follow a rider that's taken a wide line on the first turn. That rider is me. I tried to drown Carlo out when I edited it but he talks kinda loud and he was holding the camera so you can hear him. Keep it down next time! Haha just kidding - if you hadn't said that we never would have known for sure where I was in the mass of riders.

The bomb run wound around the dunes for four or five turns, and by the time we got out on the course I had moved up to about 14th or so. That's just a guess mind you, but I know I had made a lot of passes by then. I was sad the bomb run was over already - that was easily the best bomb run any race has had this year.

Since Knolls is such a heavily used area and it's mostly sand dunes, the course was on a wide enough trail that passing was neither difficult nor dangerous. As a result I kept moving up the ranks. I don't know what pushed me, but for some reason I was driven much more than normal to do well. I kept passing and passing, and suddenly I noticed there wasn't anyone else around. I had passed a fair number of Experts by this time as well.

I suspect that I was either first overall Amateur or second or third with the guys that were in front quite far ahead. I was feeling great and couldn't wait to come through to the home check point to see Paul and Carlo (where they were working) and the look on their faces when they saw how good of a position I was in.

While the bomb run was the best ever, I can't say that about the course. Due to the snow the traction was actually great (this wouldn't last however). Normally I would dread sand that deep but the snow made it really nice to ride on. What wasn't nice was the whoops. For two reasons - one, that they were the biggest whoops I've ever seen. Occasionally I swear there would be one four or five feet deep. The second reason the whoops were bad was they weren't spaced like the whoops in Jericho where a lot of the races are - there was absolutely no rhythm to these beasts, making them extremely hard to ride fast through and conserve strength.

Despite it all I was still riding fast and feeling good. Paul and I have this little start line ritual of giving each other pep-talks. At Firebird's last spring I gave him a strategy to win and he related later thinking was he was executing said strategy that I was right about it. Karma worked it's way around and this time he gave me a pep-talk. In essence he told me that he knew I was the fastest Amateur there racing that day and that I could win this one. As I was out in front feeling pretty sure that I was in first overall position for Amateurs I remember thinking, "He's right! Paul is right!"

As Murphy's Law would have it though, it was only a short distance after thinking this thought that I had a run-in with a large sage brush. The only consolation to all the whoops on this course was that they were broken up by sections of dry lake beds where I could open it up all the way. These provided brief respite from the whoop section, plus a chance to show my strength. As dumb as it is, I'm not afraid to open it all the way up and so far in my experience a lot of the Amateurs are. This is likely an effect of all my riding experiences growing up in places like Baja with fast jeep roads. I'm right at home opened all the way up.

On the down side, these sections would end all too quickly for me and I would usually come flying into the next whoop section going way faster than I was comfortable with in whoops. As it happened I thought I was first overall Amateur and thought that using the lake beds to put distance on my opponents was the best idea. I came in from an especially long lake bed into a section of large whoops going very fast. The course had a couple turns at this point in the whoops and I made the first one just fine but the second I turned too soon and collided with a very large sage brush.

Most of the time when that happens I can just ride through it as if it were another whoop. This bush was different and it basically catapulted me and the bike across the trail and halfway up a small hill. I am sure I looked like superman while flying through the air.

The impact wasn't bad - it was a very deep sandy area and so I landed on my chest and knocked the wind out of me a bit but otherwise was fine...except suddenly my eyes were cold and I then saw my goggles laying a few feet away completely covered in sand.

The bike was still running, so I grabbed my goggles quick and went to put them on only to dump a bunch of sand on my face. They were worthless now, so I wrapped them around my arm instead, figuring if I just kept a good pace I might lose a few positions but I could get them back second loop when I got a fresh pair of goggles.

I went to pick up the bike but for as much as I love the Blue Tank, it is one heavy beast. Being on the downhill side picking it up was difficult. Luckily I had put more distance on those I passed than I thought, but by now they were starting to trickle through. I kept track of them for the first five or six. Then a pack came through all at once and I lost track.

I simply couldn't pick up the bike. My footing kept giving way and I couldn't get any leverage on it. I noticed during this as well that my left hand had gone completely numb. As I was moving my arms a lot suddenly in an effort to get the bike up the feeling started coming back and that was ridiculously painful. The pain just energized me in anger and I found the strength needed to pick up the bike. I noticed the first Novice pass me at this point, which only further fueled my anger. I hopped back on and let loose but didn't move. Being on the hill, the sand being deep and soft, I simply dug a nice hole for my back tire to get stuck in.

I dug it so deep so fast I couldn't even tip it over to try and get it out. More Novices pass me and I'm now leaving the anger stage and getting to the depression stage. I pictured myself rolling into the home check to Paul and Carlo just shaking their heads. I was in first and I blew it.

To get the bike out I popped the clutch and forced it to do a wheelie and fall over backwards down the hill. This got it out of it's hole and stalled it, but put me in a position to go forwards. It took a great deal of effort to start it again, but I did and finally got going.

The rest of the loop was pretty uneventful, aside from my eyes stinging when I tried to go faster and the snow getting in. When I was in the whoops I could go at a pretty good speed and it didn't bother me too much but on the lake beds I had to putt through cause the snow was just too much.

Despite all this I was able to pass most of the Novices that had passed me. The official results aren't in yet, but I think I got them all back except maybe two or three (results are in now...I got them all back but five). (At left: Loop One, Check Point Four. Goofy Grin, Snot-Faced, the Happy Racer that is me.) I could be wrong, it's hard to tell, but I made a lot of passes surprisingly. I also got back a lot of Amateur positions as well.

As cold always does I started getting super runny nose syndrome. I rolled into check point four (see picture above) feeling pretty happy about all my passes. A couple of other friends were working that check point and they cheered me when they saw me come in. I gave them a big stupid goofy grin and thought later how retarded I must have looked. No goggles, red eyes, goofy grin, with snot all over my face. Maybe that's why they were laughing.

That check was at mile 20, and the loop was only 28 miles in total. The last eight miles were actually pretty fun and helped to make up for the last 20 of whoop-hell. There were a couple of tough hill climbs and some fun canyon tight stuff. I rolled into the home check at last and to my surprise Paul said I was around 18 overall Amateur.

I didn't have a pit crew this race as mentioned before and I didn't do any venturing out pre-race to find one. I could have easily enough, but there needs to be a lesson learned each race. This time, get a pit crew.

I filled myself up with gas, ate an energy candy, drank some water, wiped off my face, and swapped my goggles out. I took the pair around my arm to someone else's pit and begged them to clean them up for me for the next loop.

Coming out of the pits was pretty cool - there was another Amateur and a Novice coming out at the same time and we battled it out. From the pit it reconnected to the course on the start - so it was wide and open and weaving in and around the sand knolls. Being refreshed and back to the anger stage from my first loop shenanigans I turned it on and showed those two exactly who they were dealing with.

I don't know who that is exactly, but I beat them to the course and left them both far behind. On the second loop I made more passes but did give up a spot or two when a couple guys that must have had more trouble than me came by with a vengeance. I passed a lot of people who were pulled over cleaning off their goggles - while the snow slowed me down first loop it made recompense here.

On the second loop the course was starting to get bad in terms of wear and tear. It was still snowing and still really cold but with all the bikes going over it again and again it was getting torn up pretty good. The lake beds could no longer be classified as "dry lake beds" but were now starting to resemble "mud bogs". Each pass on another racer added a couple more layers of mud to my person and there were a few bizarre instances when just going on the lake beds were getting me muddy.

I made good time and came into the home check looking good. Paul stopped me to explain my position, saying I was in 15th or so and that the one person this race whom I needed to beat was about 10 places ahead of me and it wasn't likely I'd catch him unless he had problems. Paul was about to say that the race leader was coming in right behind me and that I could go out and do another loop or just wait for him to come in and then just finish with two loops instead of three and essentially finish in the same place.

But he wasn't able to get that out because Carlo yelled, "He's gotta go now!" The race leader was about 100 yards back and coming in fast. I just took off and went and ditched my goggles and picked up my other ones and went back out for loop three.

I was the last person out on the course for the third loop. I have no idea how far away anybody was but I didn't see anyone for 20 miles. The lake beds were a big slop mess and I was getting covered in mud. When I got to the 20 mile mark, check four, I saw three bikes and couple four-wheelers. With eight miles to go I felt I could pass them all. But for some reason I decided to stop and chat at check four - turns out the four-wheelers and bikes were two-loopers that I would be lapping. No need to pass them then, I'd just take it easy, there wasn't any three-looper in range.

But I can't be reasoned with it seems, even by my own mind. I took off from there going as fast as I could. I quickly passed three four-wheelers and had the first of the three bikes in my sights. I got to one of the hill climbs just out of the cool canyon track and started up it. On the second loop when I had gone up this section I thought to myself, "This is going to be real bad when I come around again."

Self-fulfilling prophecy? I don't know, but this hill was bad. All the bikes going over it had dug it down and exposed a ton of rocks that hadn't been there before and it was essentially a running river of slop and mud. (At Right: If you've been to Knolls, here's the GPS of the course. If you haven't...here it is anyways.) This made the rocks hard to see and suddenly I found I hit one that pointed my front tire off to the side. I figured this was just as well because off the trail would be just as easy to go up as that slop fest was.

But I was wrong. I was going pretty good until suddenly there was a rock shelf I had to get over that I wasn't going fast enough for. I was 90% of the way up the hill and the bike and I went down. But it wasn't just a nice easy go down. The spot I was on was pretty treacherous and so when the bike and I went down we gained instant momentum and started tumbling down the hill.

The course prior to this was such that you could see this hill a ways off. Somehow right as I fell over I looked back and happened to see the last four-wheeler I had passed approaching. The bike fell about halfway back down the hill - I'd say at least 100 feet.

I fell all the way down the hill thanks to the mud, and I'm certain that four-wheeler saw it. When he passed me I was so stunned still and out of breath that I hadn't moved from where I had stopped. I was amazed I wasn't injured in some way after falling that far.

But that amazment and stunnination would quickly be surpassed as the four-wheeler just drove right by me like I wasn't there. I guess not everyone is the same. I saw a crash that was similar, but not as bad, at Wendover. Only that time it was a four-wheeler that went over. After getting to the top I made sure he was okay, and made sure he didn't need any help.

This guy just kept going. The second four-wheeler came by as I was making my way back up to the bike and he just sailed on by too. I was in disbelief.

If I had a hard time getting the bike upright the first crash on the first loop, then this time was impossible. After a few tries I resorted to just dragging it down to where the hill wasn't so steep and then picked it up. Not wanting to attempt the hill climb on the hill itself I coasted down to the bottom to where I could get a run at it...and then I couldn't get the bike started.

But after a good long while I finally got everything together and got back on the trail and had a pretty uneventful finish (I was only about a mile away from it). Between the two crashes, I'm sure I lost at least 30 minutes. Really disappointing as it is, but even moreso considering how sure I was that I was in first or second overall Amateur before the first crash.

I rolled into the home check to Paul and Carlo waiting, beers in hand, saying, "This bud's for you?" It was over, and I was the last three-loop racer to come in. Still estimated at 15th overall Amateur or somewhere thereabouts (I did get 15th o/a AM, and I'll get points for 14th as one of the guys that beat me was a day passer). There had been a pretty large turnout from my class though and so I finished third in class and got a trophy as a result. This made Ethan and Matthias very happy when I got home.

Being all caught up now, be sure to subscribe to the blog! I'll probably start tracking my p90x progress again, and posting random stories from now and again. Stay tuned!