| 2002 Race Reports |
Belleville, Illinois
1st of 3 in Open B
Ahhhh, Belleville....scene of past concussions, mud, and mechanical problems. This
race had two out of three (no injuries), but I still claimed victory in my class. Thanks to
a heavy rain a couple days before, Sunday's conditions were wet and cold, but sunny
the entire day. Had the race been held the previous weekend, we would have been
riding in snow (or, more likely, other people would have been riding in snow...I would
have been relaxing in the comfort of my warm, dry house).
During the approximately 7 hours that Matt and I arrived prior to the race (not one, but
two races prior to ours), we walked the course and noticed a few interesting new
things about B.E.T.:
By the time our race began (around 2:00 p.m.), the starting area on the motocross
track was tacking up nicely. With a few of the B classes lined up on my row, I got a
decent start and was the 4th guy into the woods. After a mile or so, I passed two
riders and settled into a decent pace.
About 3/4 of the way into each lap was a section in the back corner of the club
grounds that winds around a small lake. The trail is cut into the sides of steep
slopes that rise from the water level. The weekend rains raised the lake level, which
submerged a short stretch of trail (10-15 feet) in about a foot of water. Now, to the
casual observer that would seem like a fairly short distance to overcome, even in the
nastiest of conditions. But as the ruts got deeper, so did the water, and alternate
routes were virtually nonexistent. On the left was a steep, muddy slope densely
packed with trees, and on the right was the lake, the bottom of which could have been
one foot or 100 yards under the surface - no way to tell. Scotland has Nessie, the
Loch Ness Monster; B.E.T. has Bessie, the Belleville Swamp Thing, known to suck
unsuspecting dirt bikers into the black abyss of crud-water.
The first time through was no problem, but the second time around the main trail was
rutted too deep to be passable. Several guys were on hand to point out alternate
lines (but mostly to entertain themselves with our misery), and one of them
suggested that I cut through the edge of the lake. I figured he was an honest guy, had
probably tested the depth of the water, and had seen other guys successfully cut
through the lake before me. Surely he wouldn't send me through deep water purely for
his own amusement and giggle as my bike dropped down into a death dive rivaling
that of the Kursk. Or would he? Turns out he gave me good advice, and even though
the depth was a little past my comfort level, I successfully navigated the lake and
didn't lose any time getting through. Others, however, were not so lucky. The Swamp
Thing had already made a brief appearance, as evidenced by a few less fortunate
souls who were attempting to rid their engines of water along the edge of the lake.
As I neared my third pass through this section, I saw what appeared to be Lars Valin
(newly advanced to the AA class and no longer pulling his bike trailer with an early-
1990's Prelude) going backwards on the trail, apparently searching for another way
around the water. Not a good sign. At the water hole bottleneck, several guys sat idle
on their bikes, heads down, apparently praying for that Bible-dude Moses to come on
back and part the waters. I respectfully maneuvered around to the front of the pack,
where I was advised that the water was now about 4 feet deep. John Banes, club
member and fast Vet racer, was perched a few feet up the side of the hill, armed with
a shovel. He had dug out a narrow off-camber path about 2 feet above the level of the
main trail. While the prayer group continued their devotions and rogations (it's a
word...I looked it up), with the help of another club guy I pushed my bike up to Banes
Trail and made it around the water hole, apparently the first to traverse this new path.
Other riders followed, and after that the section caused no more bottlenecks.
The rest of the ride was fun, with tight, rocky 1st gear trails, a grass-turned-to-mud
track, and a wide-open stretch through the backside of the club grounds. My favorite
spot was a jump that I could hit in 4th gear, sail down the trail and land semi-
gracefully, just in time to slam on the brakes and make a hard left back into the
woods. Somewhere in the last lap I flattened the back tire but kept on riding to the
finish. On the one hand, I destroyed a tube. On the other hand, I won the race. Which
would you have chosen? Yep, thought so....
March 17, 2002
St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
3rd of 28 in Open B
Now I know what motocross guys experience at the start of a race - 28 guys on one
row, all gunning for the same corner. But then, it could have been worse....the Open
C class had 56 entries. The large turnout was plainly evident at the race signup,
where I waited for nearly an hour to get keyed into the computer. Sort of like the DMV,
except the people in line are generally glad to be there and the workers are way more
friendly. Parked near the signup tent was the same CR250 decorated with red,
yellow, and black electrical tape (disguised as racing stripes, apparently), part of the
Cape Girardeau contingent at Belleville the previous Sunday. Also present was RJ
the DJ playing all the great hits from 1983, Steve Levian strolling gingerly with healing
bones (been there, man), and park rangers issuing tickets.
After more rain during the week, the course looked to be pretty sloppy. I opted out of a
practice lap, as did most others, in an attempt to save energy for the race. At the
starting line, I chose an inside line and figured I could out-gun most of the guys and
jam up the ones who were ahead of me at the first turn, just like a real wannabe
motocross dude. And what a great strategy that would have been if only the bike had
started. Three kicks later I was on my way, just in time to see what appeared to be
Pizza Man crash shortly after takeoff (but with 28 guys to keep track of, it could have
been anyone). The first quarter-mile was sandy whoops in an open area and I
passed a bunch of guys before we entered the woods. That's when the mud really
started flying. In my old age, I've finally learned that a tear-off taped over roll-off's adds
a lot of value to the usefulness of goggles during a mud race. Enduring mud spray
shooting from the spinning rear tires of 3 or 4 dirt bikes is like standing directly in front
of an industrial wood chipper, firing it up and letting your best friend feed it with
assorted fruits, vegetables, and cuts of raw meat (at least that's how it looked on an
episode of MTV's Jackass). Once I got around the offending riders, I ripped away the
temporary tear-off and found new vision. Without it, the goggles would have lasted
until approximately four minutes into the race. Yeah, I'm smart.
With riders now spread out, I gradually caught up to several of the other B class guys
that had started in rows ahead of me. Some of the passes were easy (a block pass
here and there) and others were hard (4th gear with inches separating bike and
trees). I finally decided that my passes would have to be more calculated (read:
safer) or I was sure to feel some sort of pain, so I eased up and looked for little
shortcuts. I found one that got me ahead of 3 guys and was feeling pretty good about
it, but then I noticed an object poking me in my right knee. I glanced down and could
see the end of a tree branch attached to some part of the bike, so I tried to kick at it to
break it loose. After three or four kicks and no success I tried to pull it loose with my
hand (all while navigating rocks, trees, and mud), but lost balance and dumped over
the bike. On the ground I discovered that during my fancy pass, the front fork and axle
grabbed onto a small tree and carried it with the bike. While I was on the ground
pulling the tree out, the three guys who I had passed, passed me back. So much for
shortcuts, smart guy.
Still, I rode solidly through the rest of the race and didn't crash. By the third lap some
bottlenecks had developed around the steeper climbs but there were plenty of
alternate routes. By the end of the race I was tired, wet, and ready for a nap. But the
goggles stayed on the whole time. Lap times showed that if I had been one minute
quicker, I would have won. Now that's a confidence builder.
1st of 3 in Open B
Ahhhh, Belleville....scene of past concussions, mud, and mechanical problems. This
race had two out of three (no injuries), but I still claimed victory in my class. Thanks to
a heavy rain a couple days before, Sunday's conditions were wet and cold, but sunny
the entire day. Had the race been held the previous weekend, we would have been
riding in snow (or, more likely, other people would have been riding in snow...I would
have been relaxing in the comfort of my warm, dry house).
During the approximately 7 hours that Matt and I arrived prior to the race (not one, but
two races prior to ours), we walked the course and noticed a few interesting new
things about B.E.T.:
- The club, in their continuing search for creative new uses for the property, had
obtained a huge bulldozer and an even larger excavator for the purpose of
building a hill climb area. Judging from the size of the equipment, the club
apparently intended the hill to approach the St. Louis Arch in height. - More side-hill trails. From what I could tell, the club uses shovels and a walk-
behind roto-tiller to gradually cut out the side of the hill until it's wide enough to
ride. The drop-off is severe - overshoot a corner and you take a tumble down
a steep hill and land in a deep lake. - This year's hot new "pit bike" is a basic two-wheeled, un-powered scooter,
modified with a chainsaw engine attached to the frame. The driveshaft rests
on top of the back tire, and with a little help from friction and the weight of the
engine, the driveshaft propels the scooter. If there were a Junior Division of
"Junkyard Wars," this little creation would be a winner.
By the time our race began (around 2:00 p.m.), the starting area on the motocross
track was tacking up nicely. With a few of the B classes lined up on my row, I got a
decent start and was the 4th guy into the woods. After a mile or so, I passed two
riders and settled into a decent pace.
About 3/4 of the way into each lap was a section in the back corner of the club
grounds that winds around a small lake. The trail is cut into the sides of steep
slopes that rise from the water level. The weekend rains raised the lake level, which
submerged a short stretch of trail (10-15 feet) in about a foot of water. Now, to the
casual observer that would seem like a fairly short distance to overcome, even in the
nastiest of conditions. But as the ruts got deeper, so did the water, and alternate
routes were virtually nonexistent. On the left was a steep, muddy slope densely
packed with trees, and on the right was the lake, the bottom of which could have been
one foot or 100 yards under the surface - no way to tell. Scotland has Nessie, the
Loch Ness Monster; B.E.T. has Bessie, the Belleville Swamp Thing, known to suck
unsuspecting dirt bikers into the black abyss of crud-water.
The first time through was no problem, but the second time around the main trail was
rutted too deep to be passable. Several guys were on hand to point out alternate
lines (but mostly to entertain themselves with our misery), and one of them
suggested that I cut through the edge of the lake. I figured he was an honest guy, had
probably tested the depth of the water, and had seen other guys successfully cut
through the lake before me. Surely he wouldn't send me through deep water purely for
his own amusement and giggle as my bike dropped down into a death dive rivaling
that of the Kursk. Or would he? Turns out he gave me good advice, and even though
the depth was a little past my comfort level, I successfully navigated the lake and
didn't lose any time getting through. Others, however, were not so lucky. The Swamp
Thing had already made a brief appearance, as evidenced by a few less fortunate
souls who were attempting to rid their engines of water along the edge of the lake.
As I neared my third pass through this section, I saw what appeared to be Lars Valin
(newly advanced to the AA class and no longer pulling his bike trailer with an early-
1990's Prelude) going backwards on the trail, apparently searching for another way
around the water. Not a good sign. At the water hole bottleneck, several guys sat idle
on their bikes, heads down, apparently praying for that Bible-dude Moses to come on
back and part the waters. I respectfully maneuvered around to the front of the pack,
where I was advised that the water was now about 4 feet deep. John Banes, club
member and fast Vet racer, was perched a few feet up the side of the hill, armed with
a shovel. He had dug out a narrow off-camber path about 2 feet above the level of the
main trail. While the prayer group continued their devotions and rogations (it's a
word...I looked it up), with the help of another club guy I pushed my bike up to Banes
Trail and made it around the water hole, apparently the first to traverse this new path.
Other riders followed, and after that the section caused no more bottlenecks.
The rest of the ride was fun, with tight, rocky 1st gear trails, a grass-turned-to-mud
track, and a wide-open stretch through the backside of the club grounds. My favorite
spot was a jump that I could hit in 4th gear, sail down the trail and land semi-
gracefully, just in time to slam on the brakes and make a hard left back into the
woods. Somewhere in the last lap I flattened the back tire but kept on riding to the
finish. On the one hand, I destroyed a tube. On the other hand, I won the race. Which
would you have chosen? Yep, thought so....
March 17, 2002
St. Joe State Park
Park Hills, Missouri
3rd of 28 in Open B
Now I know what motocross guys experience at the start of a race - 28 guys on one
row, all gunning for the same corner. But then, it could have been worse....the Open
C class had 56 entries. The large turnout was plainly evident at the race signup,
where I waited for nearly an hour to get keyed into the computer. Sort of like the DMV,
except the people in line are generally glad to be there and the workers are way more
friendly. Parked near the signup tent was the same CR250 decorated with red,
yellow, and black electrical tape (disguised as racing stripes, apparently), part of the
Cape Girardeau contingent at Belleville the previous Sunday. Also present was RJ
the DJ playing all the great hits from 1983, Steve Levian strolling gingerly with healing
bones (been there, man), and park rangers issuing tickets.
After more rain during the week, the course looked to be pretty sloppy. I opted out of a
practice lap, as did most others, in an attempt to save energy for the race. At the
starting line, I chose an inside line and figured I could out-gun most of the guys and
jam up the ones who were ahead of me at the first turn, just like a real wannabe
motocross dude. And what a great strategy that would have been if only the bike had
started. Three kicks later I was on my way, just in time to see what appeared to be
Pizza Man crash shortly after takeoff (but with 28 guys to keep track of, it could have
been anyone). The first quarter-mile was sandy whoops in an open area and I
passed a bunch of guys before we entered the woods. That's when the mud really
started flying. In my old age, I've finally learned that a tear-off taped over roll-off's adds
a lot of value to the usefulness of goggles during a mud race. Enduring mud spray
shooting from the spinning rear tires of 3 or 4 dirt bikes is like standing directly in front
of an industrial wood chipper, firing it up and letting your best friend feed it with
assorted fruits, vegetables, and cuts of raw meat (at least that's how it looked on an
episode of MTV's Jackass). Once I got around the offending riders, I ripped away the
temporary tear-off and found new vision. Without it, the goggles would have lasted
until approximately four minutes into the race. Yeah, I'm smart.
With riders now spread out, I gradually caught up to several of the other B class guys
that had started in rows ahead of me. Some of the passes were easy (a block pass
here and there) and others were hard (4th gear with inches separating bike and
trees). I finally decided that my passes would have to be more calculated (read:
safer) or I was sure to feel some sort of pain, so I eased up and looked for little
shortcuts. I found one that got me ahead of 3 guys and was feeling pretty good about
it, but then I noticed an object poking me in my right knee. I glanced down and could
see the end of a tree branch attached to some part of the bike, so I tried to kick at it to
break it loose. After three or four kicks and no success I tried to pull it loose with my
hand (all while navigating rocks, trees, and mud), but lost balance and dumped over
the bike. On the ground I discovered that during my fancy pass, the front fork and axle
grabbed onto a small tree and carried it with the bike. While I was on the ground
pulling the tree out, the three guys who I had passed, passed me back. So much for
shortcuts, smart guy.
Still, I rode solidly through the rest of the race and didn't crash. By the third lap some
bottlenecks had developed around the steeper climbs but there were plenty of
alternate routes. By the end of the race I was tired, wet, and ready for a nap. But the
goggles stayed on the whole time. Lap times showed that if I had been one minute
quicker, I would have won. Now that's a confidence builder.
Belleville, Illinois
Park Hills, Missouri
Park Hills, Missouri
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