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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.
