#11 Five Dangers

There were five reasons my race was going to get much more difficult and dangerous – trophy trucks, night, rocks, fatigue, and 125 miles without seeing my van.

When a trophy truck comes up behind you, it can surprise you. They should use the Stella alert system to light up the tracker on your handlebars and sound an alarm siren so you know they are coming. But in our experience, only about 1/4 of the trophy trucks used the new system. When it’s dark, you can see their lights bouncing up and down on your horizon, and you have to find a place to pull over. That sounds easy, but many places on the course are one lane wide and have curbs and shoulders filled with berms of rocks, boulders, and cacti. It can be a challenge.  

When these trucks come by, most don’t slow down. They are scary and aggressive. The air is filled with loads of dust when they pass, and you can’t see for a while. Sometimes there is another truck right behind the first. Two years ago, a motorcycle pulled back out onto the course after a truck passed, and another truck behind didn’t see him in the dust. It was a disaster.

I pressed on. The daylight was fading. My goal was to make it to mile 330 by nightfall. I was at mile 305. Mile 330 was where it gets really rocky and tough. Imagine steep uphills where the trail has mostly rocks and not much dirt. These rocks are broken and sharp and all sizes up to breadbox size. You have a 3 1/2” wide rubber tire on a spoked rim that you have to endlessly maneuver between these rocks in the path of least resistance.

Then go downhill with the same rocks. The rocks are interrupted by ledge steps. At least the ledge doesn’t move. Rocks take a lot of energy out of you – especially your hands, arms and shoulders. You start sweating more.  

Night came at about mile 315. I was behind. The dark means slower riding. While the headlights are great, there’s nothing like the sun to light up everything around you in all directions. At this time of year, there would be 11 hours of daylight, and 13 hours of night. 

13 hours of night. Picking away at the terrain for 13 hours of darkness. It was lonely out there, and eerie. Without my GPS, I may as well have been on Mars.

My neck was injured. I had to admit it. And these rocks were making it worse. It was hard to find a comfortable riding position to take the pressure off my neck. My helmet felt like it weighed 50 pounds. It hurt.

I made it to 330. The rocks and hills strewn with them got worse. We were going up into the mountains again. No more deep sand at the shoreline. Rocks. I jumped off the side of the course as a truck came through. Can’t see. Get back on and go slow until dust clears a bit.  

330 X 3 is 990. The course is 855. I’m more than 1/3 done. I don’t have the attention to calculate the percentage in my head. Another 98 miles will be half way. I can figure that much. My left wrist has been sending me distress signals since the incident at 209. I can feel five distinct tendons running from my wrist towards my elbow – like piano strings. They are screaming – like they are electrified and hot. I try to adjust my grip to ease the pain.

No avail…keep going…