False start

We had ridden 215 miles on this first full day of pre-running the course. About ten years, ago I rode 200 miles in the Mojave Desert in California. It was just the guide and me. After 100 miles, I couldn’t wait to get off the bike. After 150 miles, I was in intense pain and discomfort. At the end of the day, I was so spent I couldn’t stay awake on the 30-minute car ride back to my hotel. Back then, the idea of riding 1134 miles in one shot…you may as well have told me I could flap my arms and fly to the moon.

We were riding along the Sea of Cortez, which is between mainland Mexico and the Baja California Peninsula, although for most of the day we couldn’t see it because of the mountains. As the sun got lower, we came across a rise and headed down a long slope. The Sea of Cortez appeared before us – a beautiful vision. We were heading into Bahia Los Angeles – the “Bay of LA” – the name of the bay and the little town. Big rocky islands jutted up from the bay. The road wound down into a very small town of a dozen dirt side streets off the main paved road, as in so many other little towns in Baja.

We pulled into a little hotel just across the street from the water. We were at race mile 410. We took our gear off, took a shower, and watched the last light on the water as we ate dinner. Another day over. We’ll only have about 28,000 of these. If you get in the habit of wasting them, you’ll wind up with regrets for what you didn’t do. 

I was tired. I got to bed as soon as I could. Sleep was the only antidote.

In the morning, I hoped Tanner’s foot would be okay enough to let him ride. No dice. His Achilles tendon was stretched badly, and the top of his foot was really hurting too. We didn’t know if it was broken or what. Another day in the truck. But Tanner made the most of it, as he always does. He took latitude and longitude coordinates, looked at satellite maps and plotted the course as Andrew drove the van along paved roads. In a way, he had a better perspective on how the course moves from town to town than I did being on it. Still, he wasn’t seeing the terrain, and that’s what we’d come for.

My headlight wasn’t working on my bike and attempts to fix it failed. If we got caught in the dark today, I would need it. So I hopped on Tanner’s bike instead. 

I headed out of town with Rick behind me and Santana pulling up the rear. I was going about 70 miles an hour on dirt when suddenly, about 7 miles out of town, my bike died. It felt like it ran out of gas. I thought that maybe the gas valve was off. I looked – it was on. I hit the start button and it started right up. Huh?

I waited for Santana to pull up and I told him. Maybe there was a valve I didn’t know about. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Keep going.” Five miles later, it happened again. Again, it started right up. I thought there was a constriction in the fuel system where gas flowed slowly and when you got to higher speeds using more fuel, the float bowl on the carburetor emptied. Again, I waited for Santana to pull up. 

He said, “Let’s go back.” He wanted to go back 15 miles before Andrew and Tanner left town, because they were going out in the opposite direction. We couldn’t afford to have one of our bikes break down in the desert 100 miles from the truck. 

You can tow a bike with another bike by wrapping a rope around the footpeg of the towing bike. On the bike to be towed, you wrap the rope around the handlebar one time and you don’t tie it but grip the handlebar with the rope under your palm instead. If something goes wrong the towee can let the rope go and be released. It’s not easy especially in sand and whoops. Going up a hill, the towee gets blasted with roost. It’s dangerous.

Santana wanted to switch bikes with me. I think he thought I was imagining things and wanted to see for himself. I hoped it would happen to him too so he didn’t think I was an idiot. He took off back toward Bahia Los Angeles. Rick and I followed. 

We finally got back to the pavement and went a few more blocks to the hotel to see if the truck was still there. It wasn’t. Then Rick and I look up the paved road and see Santana a block away pushing my (Tanner’s) bike towards us! What the…?

The engine blew. There was antifreeze in the oil (what happens when you blow a head gasket) and the motor was seized. We were so lucky this didn’t happen an hour or two later! We called Andrew on the satellite phone. He had a long trailer behind the truck carrying two spare bikes. Good thing we had spare bikes. Preparation and contingency plans!

Andrew made a wide swing off the pavement to turn around and got stuck in the sand. He and Tanner were there for a while working on it until a local pulled them out with his truck.

In places like Baja, where being lost or stuck somewhere could mean death, people help each other, because their common bond is survival. If you were stuck on the side of Route 95 where I’m from, 300,000 cars might go by without anyone stopping – because there are cell phones and tow trucks and “Hey I gotta be somewhere.” It’s not that they are all self-centered and uncaring. If they thought your life was in danger they would stop. But around here a stuck vehicle is just an inconvenience. 

There are moments in life I remember, and cherish. It’s those moments when you are down, vulnerable, hurt, or in danger, and you need help the most – and someone is there for you. Like a family member, they stop whatever they are doing and care for you. You are so incredibly grateful for them at that moment. You have to remember those people in common hours.

I look for those moments to be there for someone else when they need it, because being a more experienced human now, I know how it feels. I’m not just talking about a guy pulling our truck out of the sand. I’m talking about when people experience great loss or pain, or are weak and can’t provide for their own safety. To stand in front of them and be strong to shield them when they are down – it’s an opportunity to feel really human.

By the time they got to us and we swapped bikes, it was late morning, and we had 240 miles to go to the next hotel, and I had no headlight. 

Giddy up!