WoodsChick
03-03-2005, 05:14 PM
Now, when I think of racing in the desert, I think of high-speed
whooped out stuff, lots of endless washes filled with sugar sand and some rocks, and nothing but heat and dust. When I pre-entered for the Desert Mountain National Enduro, I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I don't do well in whoops, my bike is much better suited to tight rocky gnarly stuff, I absolutely hate riding in dust, and any kind of heat just kills me.
Imagine my surprise when I arrived in Arizona only to be greeted by lush greenery, wildflowers everywhere, wet sand, Velcro dirt and cool breezy temperatures. I had a feeling that last year's bad luck (mechanical failure and a DNS) was way behind me and that this would be an epic weekend. I still was a bit nervous, this being a national race and all, and I thought I should have my head examined for even thinking that my mountain goat of a bike could carry me through this Kentucky Derby of an enduro.
Not to mention the desert was simply fraught with peril, giant
flesh-eating cactus everywhere, lurking near the fringes of the trails, just waiting for victims. I was ready with my pliers and comb, but still, it was a very foreign danger to deal with, and I wasn't looking forward to my first encounter. But I was putting my faith in my vast 2-weekend's-worth of desert experience (Utah doesn't count) and I was sure everything would be ok. Really.
The rider's meeting did nothing to assuage my fears, as we were told that there would be course workers helping to get our bikes up the gnarly hills, and that it would be best to "buddy-up" for the 15-mile-long boulder field. "Oh, and you'll have to ride up and around the house-sized boulder that is now in the middle of the sand wash" he says. Ok...boulder field...now I'm thinkin' that this might not be so bad after all. I do much better picking my way through a boulder field than I do bombing down a high-speed whooped-out stretch of desert. Then I flashed on my minute-mates arguing over who would have to buddy-up with the old chick on the weird bike with the funny tire (GasGas with trials tire) and just laughed to myself. Oh, and by the way, the cows had been eating all the arrows so now they were up high, presumably out of reach of the hungry cows. Maybe that's what happened to all the missing mileage markers...
I had programmed my ICO enduro computer the night before, and I swear I had forgotten how to use the damn thing come morning. It normally becomes useless dead weight anyway by the end of a race, so I wasn't too concerned, but I really wanted to do well in this race and the ICO would be integral to the effort. I figured out what I needed to know and headed for the starting line, stomach queasy and palms sweaty.
I spotted one of the riders on my minute and started in on the
reconnaissance mission. Hmm...young, looked to be in good shape, fairly new bike in what looked to be good running order...good, good...I wonder if he's got any rope...Wait! Red flag! No time-keeping equipment! Not good...useless to key off of if my ICO takes a dump, which it has done on occasion. Still, it's good to make friends with your minute-mates so I wandered up and introduced myself. It seems Billy lived in Colorado and had never done an enduro before. Billy thought it might be a good idea to pack up and drive all the way to Arizona and enter a national enduro by himself. Ok, fair enough. Billy was a nice kid and I enjoyed talking to him. I kept looking around for
the other 2 fellows on my minute. I knew they were in the Senior class, and I figured surely they must have some experience, or at least some good time-keeping equipment. I figured right. Kevin and George showed up in the nick of time and looked to be solid enduro riders. Right again, as Kevin ended up winning the C-Senior class.
I had all sorts of disastrous thoughts running through my head, the most persistent being that I had *no* business entering a national enduro. As soon as my minute came up and I kicked the GasGas to life, those thoughts went right out the window. The waiting was over and I was now simply doing what I know how to do, which was ride my dirt bike. The start used part of the jetting loop which I had ridden numerous times already, so I felt pretty good right away. We got off the jetting loop and before I knew it we were in a very wet wash. No sugar sand here, it was all rocks, gravel and water. The key to doing well in an enduro is to not make mistakes, and more importantly, do not get caught up in anyone else's mistakes. I figured now was the time to
minimize the dangers, so I started passing riders in the wash. The traction was phenomenal and I felt good so what the heck. It was hard to see, what with all the water flying around anyway, so I figured it was a good move. I stuck with the 2 Senior riders, and Billy wasn't too far behind. I knew we were riding hot, but I figured it would all play out in the end, and besides, we had a ways to go before a possible check. Well, as luck would have it I rolled at a walking pace into the 1st check a few seconds hot, and ended up putting my foot down when the rider directly in front of me came to a complete stop. Aaaarrgghhhh!! I
burned the check by 2 seconds! May as well have been a whole minute early as it was still 2 points.
The trails were a most pleasant surprise. They were tighter and
narrower than the trails we have here in Northern California. But
instead of trees, they wound through rocks and cactus. There was an amazing abundance of plant life, and it was all so green and lush. It had Clear Creek rocks, Idaho-style sidehills
(although the penalty wasn't a 400' tumble down a steep rocky hill, it was only 50' of vicious flesh-shredding cactus and rocks) and gorgeous damp Velcro soil. It was truly a special time to be in the desert and I felt pretty fortunate to be riding my dirt bike through it.
We climbed some good tight uphill stuff and came around a hill and all of a sudden everyone just came to a standstill. There, in front of us, was the first big hill they had been talking about in the rider's meeting. It didn't look too bad to me, but I was sitting there on a bike with the tractor-like "Motor of Doom" and a trials tire. I knew without a doubt that I could make it up with a minimum amount of fanfare, but there were bikes sprawled everywhere and about 5 course workers were on the hill trying to clear the carnage. The workers were holding up the riders wanting to go up the hill, trying to minimize the wreckage, and riders were going up one at a time. Some were making it, others weren't, and some were coming back down. One was going back up making a 2nd attempt. And 3rd and 4th and 5th, so I heard later. I was waiting for a bit before I thought to check my ICO. By the time I went up, 4 whole minutes had elapsed since checking my clock, so who knows how long I was stuck just sitting there. I waited til the course worker had his back turned while
helping a KTM off the hill, and I took off. The hill had some loose
stuff on top of big embedded rock, and some parts had rocky lips and ledges. I could see having to really finesse it if one was on a knobby with an explosive motor, but I just motored on up with nary a problem. Mountain goat, don'tcha know...:-)
I rode by myself for awhile after the hill, and had a chance to really enjoy the riding experience without worrying about other riders. There was some fun sidehill stuff that, for some reason, didn't scare me as much as it normally would (I've had some, uh, scary off-trail excursions in Idaho.) I was having a good day, and had just refused to let that kind of stuff get into my head. Maybe it's a good sign that my sidehill phobia is finally over. It helped that I managed to actually stay *on* the trail without any undue drama. I was trying like hell to make up the time I lost on the hill fiasco, but I was ever mindful to save myself for the tough stuff. I pulled into the 2nd check down 9 minutes.
I was doing ok for awhile, striking a good balance between riding like a madwoman to make up lost time and being careful to avoid stupid mistakes. I was marveling at how unfounded my earlier fears turned out to be. There was no high-speed whooped out stuff at all, and we were all pretty much on equal ground in this tight technical terrain. If anything, I had the advantage on my trials-like machine. Uh, until I fell over and killed my motor. It took me a few minutes to get it going again, and by that time a few riders had come upon me. I let them by, thinking they must be faster than me since they caught me. Duh...I had completely spaced out about killing my motor. One of the riders took
off, but the one right in front of me was picking his way carefully
through the trail. It was almost impossible to pass there, since I had no intention whatsoever of getting any closer to the dreaded cholla cactus than I had to. I waited til the trail dumped us out onto a jeep road type of thing. I followed him for a minute, fully expecting him to take off in the fast stuff, but he didn't. I passed him and never looked back. I knew I had to make up at least 5 minutes, probably more, and this looked like the place to do it. I came sliding into the very well-hidden 3rd check down only 3 minutes. Woo-hoo!
I flew out of the check feeling pretty good about things. I was having the time of my life riding in unbelievable conditions in one of the most gorgeous places on the planet. I had yet to run into anything I couldn't handle with ease, and I was making up time! Usually once I start losing time, it just compounds until I just quit paying attention and go into survival mode. But this ride was going quite well. It was exhilarating, and I was smiling big in my helmet and almost bursting with unbridled joy.
I headed out into a wash, with lots of water and big square-edged rocks, and just let loose. The bike was running perfectly, enjoying all the cool air it was getting, and the trials tire was hooking up everywhere...until it went flat. Yes, that's right...my glorious day was over. I tried to ride it out for a few moments, even though it was almost impossible to keep my rear wheel behind my front wheel. I was in a full-on state of denial, until I looked over my right shoulder and saw the totally flat tire. I pulled over and just looked at it in disbelief. I knew that if I tried to fix it myself trail-side I'd probably hour out. And even if I did fix it, it was a brand new trials tire and getting the bead to seat without Eric's 42-pound tool-pack full of miracles was going to be next to impossible. I pulled out my humongous zip-ties (acquired from the HVAC guys on one of Eric's jobs) and cinched them around the tire and rim. Almost every rider that rode by asked if I was ok, and asked if I needed help. One guy that I had seen coming back down the big hill earlier actually stopped to chat. I
think he was glad for the rest. Not knowing what was ahead of me, I turned the bike around and started the long walk back to the previous check. It was probably 2 miles or so. I stayed in the center of the wash, away from the 2 racing lines, and walked it over the rocks with the motor running. I rode it where I could, when the sandy gravel would get wide enough so that I wouldn't get run over by the bikes heading my way. But mostly I just walked...and walked...and walked.
I had plenty of time to reflect on how fortunate I was to have had the chance to get in the miles I did, and I tried to not let the massive disappointment I was feeling ruin an otherwise killer day. I didn't really care about the race (even though everyone that knew me was making fun of me for saying I just wanted to finish...they knew I wanted to do well,) I was more bummed about not getting to ride the awesome course. I just couldn't believe my day was over just like that.
The check worker must have heard me coming as he greeted me a ways from the checkpoint. The workers were great hosts and offered me food, water, cookies and a nice comfy chair. I watched a lot of riders go through the check, including Billy, who was about 20 seconds away from houring out, and I felt ok about my effort. Some of those riders should have been way in front of me.
The sweep riders came through, and I was escorted out of the area by a very nice guy on a Kawasaki. We rode through a long wash and out onto a 4X4 jeep road. The sweep rider kept turning around to make sure I was ok, and he had this incredulous look on his face. He told me he couldn't believe I was actually intending on riding that bike out of there. I asked him if he wanted to carry it out. He said "no," so I said "well, then, I guess I'll be riding it out of here." Riding on a flat rear trials tire is quite unlike riding on a flat knobby. The trials tire flops around a lot, and the rear end whips side to side without warning. It felt a lot like flat-tracking, except that you never knew if you'd be negotiating a right turn or a left. It was actually kind of fun once I got the hang of it. I did this for about 10 miles until we came to a road crossing for the A-Loop.
I waited at the crossing for a truck that was coming along behind us on the road. While there I got to see the riders come through, starting with #1. Things got fun when the pro's blew through. I saw Lafferty heading down the hill and he was flat-out hauling! I didn't figure he would make the wide left-hander into the road, much less be able to sweep to the right after crossing the road to continue up the trail. Well, he made the first turn with about 1/2" to spare, and then didn't even bother to try to make the right-hander. Nope, he just went right across the road and flew straight up the 5' tall embankment along the road. He shot straight up in the air, as if he was competing in some bizarre desert freestyle step-up competition, hung in the air for a
split second, dropped out of the sky and landed on the trail at
full-throttle. Rocks and dirt went flying all the way across the road
and he never missed a beat. He never let up, not once. It was pretty incredible to witness. These guys are amazing riders, but because of the logistics involved in an enduro, no one ever gets to really see them do their thing. I've seen them at the Quicksilver, and it blows my mind to see what they can do.
I was lucky, as I got to see them blast down a wash a few minutes later. We loaded my bike into the back of a truck belonging to an Arizona Trail Rider club member, and they gave me a ride back into the pits. We were held up down the road a ways so the riders could bomb past us in a wash we were crossing. There was rocks and water flyin' everywhere! Those guys just never let off the gas, and it was a wild thing to witness. I'm glad I got to see it.
I arrived safe and sound back at the pits, and there was nothing to do but wait for Eric to arrive. He had done both loops required of B riders, and went out for the 3rd loop that was for the A's and pro's. He finished the whole race, and he loved every minute of it.
All in all, I had a great weekend. I still consider it a success even
though I DNF'd, because I rode well, I kept all the things together
that one needs to do to successfully compete in an enduro, I managed to keep my bike in one piece...for the most part, I kept my wits about me instead of just whacking the throttle wide open and hoping for the best, and I returned home without a scratch. I also took great satisfaction in knowing that the worrying I did before the race was all for nothing. But most of all, I just had a whole lot of fun doing what I love the most-testing myself and riding my dirt bike in beautiful and challenging terrain.
Thanks for letting me share.
Some photos here: http://berkyboy.smugmug.com/
WoodsChick
whooped out stuff, lots of endless washes filled with sugar sand and some rocks, and nothing but heat and dust. When I pre-entered for the Desert Mountain National Enduro, I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I don't do well in whoops, my bike is much better suited to tight rocky gnarly stuff, I absolutely hate riding in dust, and any kind of heat just kills me.
Imagine my surprise when I arrived in Arizona only to be greeted by lush greenery, wildflowers everywhere, wet sand, Velcro dirt and cool breezy temperatures. I had a feeling that last year's bad luck (mechanical failure and a DNS) was way behind me and that this would be an epic weekend. I still was a bit nervous, this being a national race and all, and I thought I should have my head examined for even thinking that my mountain goat of a bike could carry me through this Kentucky Derby of an enduro.
Not to mention the desert was simply fraught with peril, giant
flesh-eating cactus everywhere, lurking near the fringes of the trails, just waiting for victims. I was ready with my pliers and comb, but still, it was a very foreign danger to deal with, and I wasn't looking forward to my first encounter. But I was putting my faith in my vast 2-weekend's-worth of desert experience (Utah doesn't count) and I was sure everything would be ok. Really.
The rider's meeting did nothing to assuage my fears, as we were told that there would be course workers helping to get our bikes up the gnarly hills, and that it would be best to "buddy-up" for the 15-mile-long boulder field. "Oh, and you'll have to ride up and around the house-sized boulder that is now in the middle of the sand wash" he says. Ok...boulder field...now I'm thinkin' that this might not be so bad after all. I do much better picking my way through a boulder field than I do bombing down a high-speed whooped-out stretch of desert. Then I flashed on my minute-mates arguing over who would have to buddy-up with the old chick on the weird bike with the funny tire (GasGas with trials tire) and just laughed to myself. Oh, and by the way, the cows had been eating all the arrows so now they were up high, presumably out of reach of the hungry cows. Maybe that's what happened to all the missing mileage markers...
I had programmed my ICO enduro computer the night before, and I swear I had forgotten how to use the damn thing come morning. It normally becomes useless dead weight anyway by the end of a race, so I wasn't too concerned, but I really wanted to do well in this race and the ICO would be integral to the effort. I figured out what I needed to know and headed for the starting line, stomach queasy and palms sweaty.
I spotted one of the riders on my minute and started in on the
reconnaissance mission. Hmm...young, looked to be in good shape, fairly new bike in what looked to be good running order...good, good...I wonder if he's got any rope...Wait! Red flag! No time-keeping equipment! Not good...useless to key off of if my ICO takes a dump, which it has done on occasion. Still, it's good to make friends with your minute-mates so I wandered up and introduced myself. It seems Billy lived in Colorado and had never done an enduro before. Billy thought it might be a good idea to pack up and drive all the way to Arizona and enter a national enduro by himself. Ok, fair enough. Billy was a nice kid and I enjoyed talking to him. I kept looking around for
the other 2 fellows on my minute. I knew they were in the Senior class, and I figured surely they must have some experience, or at least some good time-keeping equipment. I figured right. Kevin and George showed up in the nick of time and looked to be solid enduro riders. Right again, as Kevin ended up winning the C-Senior class.
I had all sorts of disastrous thoughts running through my head, the most persistent being that I had *no* business entering a national enduro. As soon as my minute came up and I kicked the GasGas to life, those thoughts went right out the window. The waiting was over and I was now simply doing what I know how to do, which was ride my dirt bike. The start used part of the jetting loop which I had ridden numerous times already, so I felt pretty good right away. We got off the jetting loop and before I knew it we were in a very wet wash. No sugar sand here, it was all rocks, gravel and water. The key to doing well in an enduro is to not make mistakes, and more importantly, do not get caught up in anyone else's mistakes. I figured now was the time to
minimize the dangers, so I started passing riders in the wash. The traction was phenomenal and I felt good so what the heck. It was hard to see, what with all the water flying around anyway, so I figured it was a good move. I stuck with the 2 Senior riders, and Billy wasn't too far behind. I knew we were riding hot, but I figured it would all play out in the end, and besides, we had a ways to go before a possible check. Well, as luck would have it I rolled at a walking pace into the 1st check a few seconds hot, and ended up putting my foot down when the rider directly in front of me came to a complete stop. Aaaarrgghhhh!! I
burned the check by 2 seconds! May as well have been a whole minute early as it was still 2 points.
The trails were a most pleasant surprise. They were tighter and
narrower than the trails we have here in Northern California. But
instead of trees, they wound through rocks and cactus. There was an amazing abundance of plant life, and it was all so green and lush. It had Clear Creek rocks, Idaho-style sidehills
(although the penalty wasn't a 400' tumble down a steep rocky hill, it was only 50' of vicious flesh-shredding cactus and rocks) and gorgeous damp Velcro soil. It was truly a special time to be in the desert and I felt pretty fortunate to be riding my dirt bike through it.
We climbed some good tight uphill stuff and came around a hill and all of a sudden everyone just came to a standstill. There, in front of us, was the first big hill they had been talking about in the rider's meeting. It didn't look too bad to me, but I was sitting there on a bike with the tractor-like "Motor of Doom" and a trials tire. I knew without a doubt that I could make it up with a minimum amount of fanfare, but there were bikes sprawled everywhere and about 5 course workers were on the hill trying to clear the carnage. The workers were holding up the riders wanting to go up the hill, trying to minimize the wreckage, and riders were going up one at a time. Some were making it, others weren't, and some were coming back down. One was going back up making a 2nd attempt. And 3rd and 4th and 5th, so I heard later. I was waiting for a bit before I thought to check my ICO. By the time I went up, 4 whole minutes had elapsed since checking my clock, so who knows how long I was stuck just sitting there. I waited til the course worker had his back turned while
helping a KTM off the hill, and I took off. The hill had some loose
stuff on top of big embedded rock, and some parts had rocky lips and ledges. I could see having to really finesse it if one was on a knobby with an explosive motor, but I just motored on up with nary a problem. Mountain goat, don'tcha know...:-)
I rode by myself for awhile after the hill, and had a chance to really enjoy the riding experience without worrying about other riders. There was some fun sidehill stuff that, for some reason, didn't scare me as much as it normally would (I've had some, uh, scary off-trail excursions in Idaho.) I was having a good day, and had just refused to let that kind of stuff get into my head. Maybe it's a good sign that my sidehill phobia is finally over. It helped that I managed to actually stay *on* the trail without any undue drama. I was trying like hell to make up the time I lost on the hill fiasco, but I was ever mindful to save myself for the tough stuff. I pulled into the 2nd check down 9 minutes.
I was doing ok for awhile, striking a good balance between riding like a madwoman to make up lost time and being careful to avoid stupid mistakes. I was marveling at how unfounded my earlier fears turned out to be. There was no high-speed whooped out stuff at all, and we were all pretty much on equal ground in this tight technical terrain. If anything, I had the advantage on my trials-like machine. Uh, until I fell over and killed my motor. It took me a few minutes to get it going again, and by that time a few riders had come upon me. I let them by, thinking they must be faster than me since they caught me. Duh...I had completely spaced out about killing my motor. One of the riders took
off, but the one right in front of me was picking his way carefully
through the trail. It was almost impossible to pass there, since I had no intention whatsoever of getting any closer to the dreaded cholla cactus than I had to. I waited til the trail dumped us out onto a jeep road type of thing. I followed him for a minute, fully expecting him to take off in the fast stuff, but he didn't. I passed him and never looked back. I knew I had to make up at least 5 minutes, probably more, and this looked like the place to do it. I came sliding into the very well-hidden 3rd check down only 3 minutes. Woo-hoo!
I flew out of the check feeling pretty good about things. I was having the time of my life riding in unbelievable conditions in one of the most gorgeous places on the planet. I had yet to run into anything I couldn't handle with ease, and I was making up time! Usually once I start losing time, it just compounds until I just quit paying attention and go into survival mode. But this ride was going quite well. It was exhilarating, and I was smiling big in my helmet and almost bursting with unbridled joy.
I headed out into a wash, with lots of water and big square-edged rocks, and just let loose. The bike was running perfectly, enjoying all the cool air it was getting, and the trials tire was hooking up everywhere...until it went flat. Yes, that's right...my glorious day was over. I tried to ride it out for a few moments, even though it was almost impossible to keep my rear wheel behind my front wheel. I was in a full-on state of denial, until I looked over my right shoulder and saw the totally flat tire. I pulled over and just looked at it in disbelief. I knew that if I tried to fix it myself trail-side I'd probably hour out. And even if I did fix it, it was a brand new trials tire and getting the bead to seat without Eric's 42-pound tool-pack full of miracles was going to be next to impossible. I pulled out my humongous zip-ties (acquired from the HVAC guys on one of Eric's jobs) and cinched them around the tire and rim. Almost every rider that rode by asked if I was ok, and asked if I needed help. One guy that I had seen coming back down the big hill earlier actually stopped to chat. I
think he was glad for the rest. Not knowing what was ahead of me, I turned the bike around and started the long walk back to the previous check. It was probably 2 miles or so. I stayed in the center of the wash, away from the 2 racing lines, and walked it over the rocks with the motor running. I rode it where I could, when the sandy gravel would get wide enough so that I wouldn't get run over by the bikes heading my way. But mostly I just walked...and walked...and walked.
I had plenty of time to reflect on how fortunate I was to have had the chance to get in the miles I did, and I tried to not let the massive disappointment I was feeling ruin an otherwise killer day. I didn't really care about the race (even though everyone that knew me was making fun of me for saying I just wanted to finish...they knew I wanted to do well,) I was more bummed about not getting to ride the awesome course. I just couldn't believe my day was over just like that.
The check worker must have heard me coming as he greeted me a ways from the checkpoint. The workers were great hosts and offered me food, water, cookies and a nice comfy chair. I watched a lot of riders go through the check, including Billy, who was about 20 seconds away from houring out, and I felt ok about my effort. Some of those riders should have been way in front of me.
The sweep riders came through, and I was escorted out of the area by a very nice guy on a Kawasaki. We rode through a long wash and out onto a 4X4 jeep road. The sweep rider kept turning around to make sure I was ok, and he had this incredulous look on his face. He told me he couldn't believe I was actually intending on riding that bike out of there. I asked him if he wanted to carry it out. He said "no," so I said "well, then, I guess I'll be riding it out of here." Riding on a flat rear trials tire is quite unlike riding on a flat knobby. The trials tire flops around a lot, and the rear end whips side to side without warning. It felt a lot like flat-tracking, except that you never knew if you'd be negotiating a right turn or a left. It was actually kind of fun once I got the hang of it. I did this for about 10 miles until we came to a road crossing for the A-Loop.
I waited at the crossing for a truck that was coming along behind us on the road. While there I got to see the riders come through, starting with #1. Things got fun when the pro's blew through. I saw Lafferty heading down the hill and he was flat-out hauling! I didn't figure he would make the wide left-hander into the road, much less be able to sweep to the right after crossing the road to continue up the trail. Well, he made the first turn with about 1/2" to spare, and then didn't even bother to try to make the right-hander. Nope, he just went right across the road and flew straight up the 5' tall embankment along the road. He shot straight up in the air, as if he was competing in some bizarre desert freestyle step-up competition, hung in the air for a
split second, dropped out of the sky and landed on the trail at
full-throttle. Rocks and dirt went flying all the way across the road
and he never missed a beat. He never let up, not once. It was pretty incredible to witness. These guys are amazing riders, but because of the logistics involved in an enduro, no one ever gets to really see them do their thing. I've seen them at the Quicksilver, and it blows my mind to see what they can do.
I was lucky, as I got to see them blast down a wash a few minutes later. We loaded my bike into the back of a truck belonging to an Arizona Trail Rider club member, and they gave me a ride back into the pits. We were held up down the road a ways so the riders could bomb past us in a wash we were crossing. There was rocks and water flyin' everywhere! Those guys just never let off the gas, and it was a wild thing to witness. I'm glad I got to see it.
I arrived safe and sound back at the pits, and there was nothing to do but wait for Eric to arrive. He had done both loops required of B riders, and went out for the 3rd loop that was for the A's and pro's. He finished the whole race, and he loved every minute of it.
All in all, I had a great weekend. I still consider it a success even
though I DNF'd, because I rode well, I kept all the things together
that one needs to do to successfully compete in an enduro, I managed to keep my bike in one piece...for the most part, I kept my wits about me instead of just whacking the throttle wide open and hoping for the best, and I returned home without a scratch. I also took great satisfaction in knowing that the worrying I did before the race was all for nothing. But most of all, I just had a whole lot of fun doing what I love the most-testing myself and riding my dirt bike in beautiful and challenging terrain.
Thanks for letting me share.
Some photos here: http://berkyboy.smugmug.com/
WoodsChick