Boondocker Enduro

by

Marshall Valentino

The weather forecast was not good. Snow and/or sleet, accumulations expected, lows in the twenties but a high of fifty forecast for Sunday. The ingredients; four mature riders, four motorcycles, food for eight and liquor for twenty. A recipe for disaster. My prescription...more brandy. The four of us set out in Brooks' rolling palace around 1100 Saturday.

The rest of the cast - The Flying Swede and his venerable YZ250, Alpha male Webb and the 'don't even drop me on my right side' XR, and the guy who never seems to go to work and his pristine 400 EXC. We quickly pull onto 35W and head for west Texas. A scant five hours later we pull into the campground and begin scouting for a good spot to park. Quickly we circle the pasture. There isn't a piece of level ground anywhere but Gary manages to find a spot near the entrance that looks promising. He has only to pull up the stake and ribbon and it's ours. Step one...level the motor home. Step two...Brooks goes off in search of a shovel to dig out the leveling jacks that have buried themselves six inches into the soft soil. It just doesn't get any better than this.

The four of us and Billy Woodrich are on row five. Jimmy Stovall has come and gone to the motel. Smoker and Kranck are on row six but haven't shown yet. Larry, Mark and Jeff show up in the famous Buffalo Camper with just enough butane to run their heater for six hours. I figure the heater will die around 0300. Aaron and James are here but decided to work this one. Eddie from DFW KTM is here too. The host club for the enduro decides on a 0900 key time...a great idea. Maybe it'll warm up a little bit by then. The bikes are ready and it's time for dinner, after which we quickly settle down for some TV, conversation and brandy.

The alarm goes off at 0645. Wonderful. I glance at the thermometer stuck on the outside of the window - it's 26 degrees out there. But we slowly dress and go about our business getting ready to race. Smoker and Kranck show up just before the rider's meeting at 0800. I go out and start my 400. Kick, kick, kick, kick. The hell with this, hit “the button”. Nothing. Nada. Zip. OK, do the drill. Compression release in and kick it over about 10 times. Now kick it again and it fires on the 3rd try. Yes! I leave it idle and head for the rider's meeting. We hear the usual opening statements followed by a quick prayer and then the usual 'watch out for this' and 'watch out for that'. I head back to the bike for my final preparation and I notice all this steam coming from the bike. As it warmed up the idle increased to a fast pace and the cooling system boiled over. Crap. There's a lesson learned.

We head for the start and when our minute comes up we're off. I screwed up starting my ICO Checkmate for the 1 minute countdown so I had to go with an instant start. After a short distance I looked down and the damned thing still was not running. Lesson 2...set a two minute countdown so you can change it to one if you screw it up. The instant start at key time is not the hot tip. Anyway, the traction is superb and the pace is fast. 18 mph for the first section and we quickly warm up. The course is well marked and we all manage to stay together. We ride some possibles and before you know it, we come to a check-in. On the gas now, get ahead while we can. Damn, these handlebars are too straight. My riding position seems awkward - more than usual. Oh well, after a few more miles I forget about it and concentrate on the trail. We come to what seems like another check-in and we're off again. The speed jumps to 30 mph at 20.1 and now the race is on. The trail drops us onto the riverbed and I pin the throttle. Holy s---! Does this sucker go. I back off a bit but hear Brooks coming up on my left. Oh yeah? I pin it again and we both blast by Frank like a bullet. Haydn’s got nothing on me! The rest of the race had it's moments and I can't remember them all, but of notoriety was our team U-turn, the motocross track, and my faux pax at check 11 (I think it was 11).

The U-Turn. Gary is in the lead and we're hot. About 2 minutes or so as I remember. I think, "What the hell is he doing riding this hot?" I don't like this at all. All of a sudden, Gary turns off the trail. I look back at him and then glance up at the trail - A check is about 100 yards in front of us. I'm catapulted back into the past as I hear my wingman radio; "Break left, blue leader". I instinctively jam the stick left and start pulling. I feel the G's pushing me into the seat. I roll out of the turn and then parallel the run-in course to the target. I can see the others behind me doing the same thing. We all sit perpendicular to the trail now and watch row 2 go past. Then row 3 and 4. Here comes Billy on his 400. Gary says, "Billy, you go in first", "we'll follow". We ride in like nothing has happened. Remember, Gary is an expert at this. Then I see it's an observation check and they mark us with an X. Brother!

The Motocross track. We're at the known at 51.7. Speed - 60 miles per hour. The distance to go - 2 miles. 3 - 2 - 1 - GO. Brooks gets the hole shot. He's ridden this course before and knows he can't be passed but I stay after him anyway. The sound was awesome...two four-strokes roaring like a couple of deuce and a halfs. I'm right on his tail and he's roosting the crap out of me but I don't let up. I've got to get by him somehow. I have to pass him in the tight turns at the bottom. The turns at the top of the jumps are hidden and I don't know which way they go until I crest the hill. I can see a crowd gathering to watch us. Their screaming grows ever louder; "We want blood", "Broken bones", "Satan is our friend". Crap - he stays on the gas and won't let up. If he screws up, I'll have him for lunch but he's looking pretty good and holds me off for the entire two miles of tight turns and jumps. We almost overshoot the finish because there's no one there to mark our scorecards. Some goober jumps down and shouts "eight oh two", and "eight oh three". Bulls---! We were there maybe a second before that but the scorecard tells the sad tale. I lose by one second. Average speed just under 40 mph. I wonder how the fast guys did?

The faux pax. It's 18 mph after the second gas and Billy and I are headed out of the check-in. On the pipe now and hope for the best. It's looks like the same trail we rode on the first loop but the mileage signs says 60. I don't remember seeing those on the first loop so I guess it's different. No time for sightseeing, the race is on. Smoker gets by me and I press on, not paying much attention to the computer because I just figure I'm getting behind. All of a sudden here comes Smoker riding the wrong way. I think, "What the hell, have I gotten off the trail?" No, there's ribbon here all right. Did he break or something? Then in the brush ahead is a check. I glance down at the Checkmate and it says I'm about 30 seconds hot. No way to scrub that off, and I'm too close to do a Gary Webb maneuver. Take it like a man. The check worker writes down a 4 and I say "Oh well". "It's a beautiful day anyway". The check-out at 74.7 comes up quickly and the race is over. I join my other Challenge team members and high-five our finish. Right on! We trail ride to the known finish and it's all over but the crying. Another enduro goes into the history books.

How did we all do? Well, I don't know about everyone but Gary got a 2nd, Brooks a 3rd, Frank a 3rd, me and Elvis 4th and 5th respectively, Jimmy a 3^rd and Eddie a 3rd. Kranck and Smoker got 7th and 8th respectively. Not sure about Larry and Mark and Jeff. The Rocky Mountain guys are a pretty fast bunch. Thank you Frank, for letting me T-bone you when you moved over to let me and another rider pass. Thank you Frank, for clipping me as you went by when I squidded out on that sandy uphill. Thank you Frank, for loaning me your camelback so I could complete the long course with some water. Mine had drained into my underwear in the first 10 miles.