WASHOUGAL - AN EPIC RACE STORY

If you haven’t read any of my other stories, I started riding an ATV last October and bought my Cannondale in December. Since the day I had made the decision to race, my sights have been focused on the WORCS race in Washougal Washington on May 18th. Everything I did or purchased for the bike was in preparation for THIS race. I started training, shed 17 pounds and greatly enhanced my endurance. I was singularly focused and a little obsessed with making this race.

I work out of state and commute home about 3 weekends a month. My employer told me that I would actually be spending the Month of May handling an asset transfer in my home state. This afforded me the rare luxury of having plenty of time to get ready for the race. Sometimes all the preparation in the world cannot prepare us for the events that conspire to derail our dreams.

Friday, May 2nd – 16 days to Washougal
I flew home on May 2nd and drove from the airport to the Dunes in Moses Lake. My wife had coordinated getting all our gear packed including bikes. This was my first time in the dunes with my new PEP ZPS front shocks and I have to say the difference was unreal. I thrashed through the same whoops with abandon that 3 months before had kicked my butt. I literally snapped 5 flags in one day playing in the whoops.

There’s this gal in our group who grew up riding and racing motorcycles. Her husband rides motorcycles and she’s been patiently waiting to get herself a new bike. It’s my mission in life to convert her to sport quads and I was thrilled when she wanted to ride the Cannondale.

She took off with my wife following on a 400ex. About an hour later they returned… I could tell from about 100yds out that something was wrong. As they pulled up and killed the bikes I could see the dale wasn’t going to be ridden anymore that weekend. Missy had her Left arm stuffed in her body armor and carefully got off the bike. She related to our group what had happened. While riding wide open on a seemingly harmless flat stretch of sand she stole a quick look behind to see where my wife was. In the next instant she was on the ground with the bike on top of her. She cracked 2 ribs in the wreck and was pretty bruised up. Thank God it happened in the sand and not on something harder. The Dale had a bent steering stem and nothing more. She was very upset that she had hurt my bike, offered to pay for the damage… I was simply glad she was going to be okay. The good news is she’s going to get a quad now, she had never ridden anything with the power of a Cannondale and it hooked her. Tough Chick.

Monday, May 5th – 13 days to Washougal
When I got home I stripped the bike and called Kyle at R&S. He had a stem shipped to me by the next weekend and I spent that Saturday putting the bike back together in time for our local MX race on Sunday. I decided to do the vent hose update on Saturday as well having noted oil in the air-box for the first time since owning the bike.

Wednesday, May 14th – 4 days to Washougal
I raced at a local MX track on Sunday and decided I needed one last shakedown ride before the big race. I wanted to make sure the bike was going to be in top working order, there were also some form issues I wanted to work out with my riding, and to be frank, I just really like riding and didn’t want to pass up an opportunity.

I got to the track and waited my turn. On my first run I was flyin, the form corrections I had made were allowing me to run a lot faster without getting fatigued. I did 6 laps and led the pack of 15 or so riders. I got passed on our last practice lap and tried to get my position back. I chased the 250r that had passed by and together we set a very fast pace. I wasn’t able to pass back in the single lap remaining, but I hung right there with him, felt in control the whole time, and I wasn’t tired, a huge improvement over my riding from Sunday.

The next session was as furious as the first, Katie Duncan and Jeff Becook were both out and running and I made it my goal to run with them. The track was fast and I felt very much in control. On the second lap I shot over the double and felt the bike hit kind of hard. That took me off guard because I thought I had landed it pretty well. A few turns later I launched off the 73’ tabletop. I don’t clear this yet, I guess I go about 60 feet. I came down on the gas ready to race to the finish line. I knew something was really wrong the moment I hit. The bike slammed into the ground, I kissed the bars hard and my hands flew off the grips, the rear rebounded into the air and I traversed the down-slope of the table top in that fashion, shoulders on the bars, rear in the air. I’m not sure how I didn’t wad it up, it certainly wasn’t through any effort of my own, I was simply along for the ride at that point. Luckily the bike stayed true and I got control and pulled it into the pits.

You don’t need to be an expert wrench to deduce from all the shock oil on the swing-arm and the way the bike had reacted on landing that the rear Ohlins was blown.

4 days to my race and I’ve got serious equipment failure. It was late in the evening Pacific Time. I would have to wait until tomorrow to find an answer.

Thursday, May 15th – 3 days to Washougal
“Quadshop, this is Jeff, can I help you?”
7am PST and I’m on the phone trying desperately to not be watching the race from the sidelines. I told Jeff Stoess my story of woe. I know Jeff’s shop does Elka SSD conversions on the Ohlins and was hoping beyond hope that he had something ready to go that I could borrow for the race until I could get my shock to him for repair / conversion.

“All I’ve got is mine, why don’t you use it for the race and then return it with your shock afterwards? Just cover shipping and I’ll get it out to you right now. You can pay me for your conversion once we get everything back.”

Writing this now, 3 weeks after the race I still have trouble putting into words my reaction to that statement. Support like that for some newbie dweeb half way across the nation in an unimportant race simply defies logic. ‘The Quadshop’ earned a customer for life on that day.

Friday, May 16th 2:30PM – 2 days to Washougal
After checking the tracking number on the UPS web page approximately 1,452 times from work, the shock finally lands on my doorstep. I breathe for the first time in 2 days.

Saturday, May 17th – 1 day to Washougal
I finished getting the bike together after doing a thorough inspection for damage from the rough landing. My birthday had been the week before and my wife had managed to track down a set of new black plastic with red deletes. The bike looked AWESOME!

We hit the road for the 3-hour drive down and got a hotel for the night.

Sunday, May 18th RACE DAY
In typical Washington fashion, Mother Nature had dumped roughly 3 inches of rain in the days leading up to the race. The track, known nationally for its beauty, was a mud pit. I got registered and went to find my Cannondale riding friend Paul. We spent a few moments making small talk through the nervous energy that was beginning to build then it was off to prep the bikes.

I taped the front bumper to keep the mud out and sprayed the bike down with Pam non-stick cooking spray. This got a lot of looks and comments but I figured if it works for cookin it should work for mud slingin.

The race was scheduled to start at 9:00am. I made my way to the line 15 minutes early.

All ATV classes were going to race at the same time starting at 1-minute intervals. Pro first, then Vet (My class) then B, C and Utility. There were 66 total ATV’s entered.

I picked a spot somewhere in the middle of the Vet line and settled down to wait. I hadn’t really thought about what kind of race I wanted to run until this point. All my attention and efforts had been caught up in the frenetic, single-minded drive to get the bike ready for the race. To be honest I found myself in a bit of a panic about what I was going to do, sitting on the line with 5 minutes to race time is probably not the most ideal moment to start mentally preparing yourself for a taxing race.

I worked through the unrest building inside and got control of my thoughts. I ran through my options and given the conditions of the course and my relative inexperience I decided that I simply wanted to finish the race; that was the priority. I’d run hard but reasonably conservative. At this point in my racing a DNF while running strong would be worse to me than being the last rolling bike to cross the line. That will change soon enough, but for right now I want to get in the habit of finishing.

The starting line was getting crowded and rather smoky from the 2 strokes. Everyone was gunning their engines in anticipation for the start. We waited. Then we had the riders meeting via a bullhorn and everyone killed their engines. The course was laid out along with pit location, after several confusing course changes and time amendments the field marshal finally signaled 1 minute.

I put my goggles on and lowered my head in readiness for the mud deluge that was quickly approaching from the Pro’s red lining it in front of us.

They were off. When the mud quit hitting me I stole a look at the hole shot. It was a mess. Several pros were barely moving through the 10” deep mud at the first turn. The 30-second card came up for us. The deafening sound of the departing pros and the 50 remaining quads screaming in readiness faded to almost nothing as I focused on the green flag in the Field Marshal’s right hand. I put my left hand on my helmet and lowered my head as close as I could to the handlebars.

The green flag was up! My left hand dropped to the bar grabbing the clutch, the bike was in gear in an instant and I hit the gas. The Vet line raced to the hole shot. I was in fourth and then the banshee in front me running in third lost traction. I hit the brakes hard and felt fifth position hit me from behind. The rest of the field seemed to be passing by us on the outside. I quickly negotiated around the faltering Banshee and made my way up the first table top passing by several riders climbing up the hill at a walking pace, wheels slinging mud 20 feet in the air. The next table top was much the same as the first, I barely made it around 2 riders stalled at the top and raced down the backside into a sweeping right hand turn hot on the heels of a mud covered rider.

The Rider in front of me hit the brakes hard and I was all over him trying not to get tangled. The rutted line we had picked through the corner had a traffic jam. Quads turned sideways in deep ruts from the bikes that had raced the previous day. I jumped off to straighten one of the stuck bikes pulling my kill switch. This was not so much an act of selfless sportsmanship as it was an intense desire to be able to get moving again and clearing the stuck bike would probably be faster than moving my own to a new line. B class was now filtering by on the inside of the corner. We finally got the first quad free and I jumped back on mine, shaky hands taking forever to get the kill tether clip back under the pingle. I finally got the bike fired up and was off having lost countless positions.

After clearing the corner the track took a sharp left hand turn up into the hills above the lower MX track. I was hammering over the whooped out, mud covered track as it made it’s way steeply through the trees. An easy right turn and the track leveled out. I was making good time and then slammed on the brakes as I came sliding into a pack of 5 or so riders waiting at the bottom of a left hand hairpin that turned back up the hill. I could see 5 or 6 bikes at different points on the up hill traverse that were sideways in the trail with riders yanking desperately at their stuck machines in an attempt to right them. The rest of B class and most of C came sliding in behind me. There were now at least 35 bikes caught up in the delay. The situation would have been comical if I hadn’t been involved in it.

A guy on a 250r that was facing left finally got some traction and was so frustrated he just held the hammer down and ended up swapping ends on the bike and got it stuck again! A banshee from the pack of us waiting at the bottom was repeatedly hammering into the thick Washington underbrush trying to forge a trail of his own.

It looked hopeless and then a stuck rider shifted his bike in the trail and a squeaky thin line opened up. This line was open to me only as I had negotiated my way around to the side, others following behind me. I contemplated going for it. If I didn’t make it I’d be hopelessly stuck and probably worsen the situation. This contemplation took about 1 second and was resolved by the rider immediately behind me shouting to “GO! YOU ” with some exclamation points of his own to make sure I got the message. I dumped the clutch and covered him in roost as my personal way of saying thanks for the encouragement and shot up the steep hill still littered with bikes.

Left around the 250r, across to the right to skirt the guy stuck in the middle, working the clutch to keep the rear end from swapping ends. Back left then to the right side, now sliding into the edge of the underbrush, hard on the gas and as far back on the seat as I can get mowing down the saplings in my path. Then I crested the hill and was off on my own.

The track was set up really well. Plenty of course workers to let you know that hazards were coming up. However, no one was at the top of suicide hill, which is definitely an eye opener the first time you launch off of it. Approaching in 3rd gear it looks like a pretty tame 20’ tabletop. As you leave the crest of the ramp the world simply drops out from under you. Suicide is the 120’ drop from the upper portion of the MX track to the lower portion. I sailed about 1/3 of the way down before coming in contact with terra firma again. That took about 10 years off my life!

Lap 1 was over very quickly. My roll offs were holding up well and I was in good position.

I caught up to and was actually able to recognize one of the riders in my class. We raced out of the MX track and out into pasture country. The relatively flat fields were slightly whooped out, but not so bad you couldn’t just hold the hammer down and let the suspension soak it up. Through a deep mud woods section and back out into the flats. He was running about 30’ in front of me and as we were entering into another woods section he suddenly went into a deep rut and stopped cold. You’d think that 30’ would be enough space to change course and go around, not in this mud. Despite my best efforts I ended up rear-ending him. We were both stuck fairly well. I jumped off, killing the bike again and went to the rear grab bar and tried to lift the quad out of the rut. The suspension extended as I strained with the mud-covered quad. I’m a big guy and I could not lift it free of the rut it was in. I tried pushing it backward, sliding the front out, nothing. The guy in front was back on his quad spinning his tires. Riders were starting to pass us. I jumped to the rear of his bike and started pushing feverishly on his grab bar. More riders were filtering by. Finally he started to hook up and with one last push he was gone. I jumped back to my bike and fought to get the clip back under the pingle. Finally got it fired and hammered up through the woods and back out onto the flat field course.

My second run through the upper woods section was not nearly as eventful as my first. As I came through the section of track where the huge traffic jam had happened, what had in the beginning been a trail roughly one and a half quads wide now looked as though a squad of heavy armor had rolled through at speed. I don’t know what transpired after I had made it through but it couldn’t have been pretty.

I made it to the check station at the end of lap 2. Still feeling good, roll offs still working fine despite the 20 or so times I had to use them in the thick mud, bike running awesome and though it was pretty slippery I was getting all the traction I needed to stay fast.

Entering into the woods before the field section on my 3rd lap saw another bad backup. I came to a stop and immediately my glasses fogged up. I pulled my goggles off to get air to them. The bike in front of me started moving forward and I quickly put the goggles back on. We went another 100 yards or so, the glasses finally getting enough air flow to clear and then we stopped again! Instantly they fogged up. I pulled the goggles. I wasn’t able to get them on this time before the bike in front of me kicked roost into them rendering them unusable. I kept my head down trying to keep the mud off my glasses as we negotiated through the traffic.

I had no idea where I was in relation to position. There was no tempo in this race it was simply survival. Stay running; don’t get stuck. The course was already littered with bikes hopelessly caught in the quagmire. I fought to keep myself from numbering myself among them.

Keeping my head down to shield my glasses wasn’t working very well. I was going slower than I wanted to be going and was soon passed on the left as we left a small woodlot. I looked up as the rider passed and the issue with my glasses was instantly resolved with a thick coating of mud.

Now I’m racing along the course, goggles around my neck, peering over the top of my mud caked glasses. I wont try racing with glasses again. I can’t wear contacts, but I can see well enough for racing without glasses and they aren’t worth the hassle.

I finished lap 3 and all of lap 4 in this fashion. I had two occasions to actually set up a rider in front of me and work a pass. The rest was passing 5 riders hopelessly stuck in the mud or watching as 5 riders passed by as I tried to get out of the traffic jam I was in.

I came into the whoops section at the end of lap 4 where the check station is to see a string of bikes in front of me. The race was over. We rolled through the check station single file and got our bar codes scanned and left the course.

Other than the fogging issue I felt really good. I wasn’t in the least bit tired and felt I could have run the whole event again. Race duration was right at 50 minutes.

I ended up finishing 23rd out of 66 riders and 7th in the vet class out of 13 entered.

I made my goal of finishing the race, but I think that’s the last one I run that conservatively. I’m ready to start dialing it up a bit in regard to tempo and agressiveness. I know now that I have enough stamina to make it to the end of the race and not burn out in the first ten minutes.

It turns out that after the vet and B class left things got pretty interesting at the hole shot. C class took off and about 6 riders got stuck or couldn’t make it up the hill. They fought the mud as the 3 utilities launched a minute later. 2 of the utilities bombed on through in 4wd while the third, evidently lacking 4wd got stuck behind the c riders. What unfolded with this rider is truly and amazing story.

My wife videoed this last utility rider for almost 20 minutes before he finally made it up the ramp of the first tabletop. He would back up and get a run at it and lose all traction about halfway up the 10’ face. Over and over he attempted to crest the small hill as riders lapped him once then twice. Finally he made it to the top to the deafening cheers of the crowd! He completed a single lap in the race. His trip through the whoops as he approached the finished line looked like something scripted for a Hollywood comedy as he left the course on the left side in a 5mph out of control slide, reentering the whoops section at a 90 degree angle and exiting out the other side directly across from where he entered. On and on he battled finally making it to the checkpoint again to the thunderous cheers and applause of the crowd. He was definitely their favorite and he gets the nod from me for sheer determination and force of will.