There I sat, eyes burning like someone poured gas into them, sanded them with 80-grit, and then threw some salt in for good measure. When my vision finally cleared, I could see a dirt road just off to the right. I was at a crossroads.

In March 2019, just after the pandemic shut down the country, the 50th anniversary of the Desert-100 scheduled for April was canceled. 2020 came and went with just an (unattended) cannon blow in a silent desert that would otherwise signal the start of the Desert 100, and over 2000 rabid dirt bikers headed to the same first corner at wide-open throttle.

Then it happened, it was December 2021, and word hit the street that the 50th annual Desert 100 was going to happen this coming April as it had 49 times before the pandemic shut it down.

Time to prepare.

I sold the 2019 KTM 300 XC-W, which is great for tight singletrack but not really competitive for wide-open racing in the desert. I purchased a 2022 KTM 350 XC-F because this motorcycle can hold up to higher speeds and rougher terrain found in the desert.

After Jenn and I returned from our mid-winter vacation in Baja, it was time to get to work. If I was going to have any chance at placing near the front in my class, I was going to have to get after it. These desert races are tough on your body and can destroy your equipment if you’re not prepared.

Depending on which class you’re in (the 50-mile class or the 100-mile class), the race can go over 2 hours at a very minimum. That’s a long time to hang on to a machine, running at high speeds through rough terrain in the desert.

To prepare, my wife convinced me to join her group fitness class at Embark here in Bend. These classes use the HIT (high-intensity training) method. I started in March and tried to go at least 3-days a week. I consulted with a professional bike racer (a friend of mine) about performance nutrition. We developed a program that really helped boost my energy while on the bike. It also kept me from cramping, which was a big problem in 2019.

It was time to get on the bike and put all of this work to the test. I decided to use a trail system just a few miles from where I live here in Bend. I scouted out a 10-mile loop that would include many deep whoops, lava rock, sagebrush, and hill climbs. My plan was to run the loop three times so I could get a baseline of how my speed and endurance would be.

The first lap felt really fast, but the second two felt about the same. When I stopped and reviewed my fitness tracker, it confirmed exactly what I felt on the bike. My goal was to average at least 25 miles per hour. That’s what it was going to take to win my class. This was based on times I saw from the winners of the last two events. My average speed on the first three laps was 26.7 MPH. This would definitely be good enough to get me on the top step of the podium, but I had to remember that there were no other riders out here on the trail with me, and there would be hundreds of riders on the same course at the D-100

After getting back home and analyzing the data, I determined that I should back off a little in the beginning and ride at a more steady, conservative pace. This strategy really worked. The next time out on the same course, I finished 3 minutes earlier and had an average speed of 27.9 MPH. Ok, now I just have to keep it up for 50 miles!

It’s a week before the race, and I’m getting the bike prepped and ready, which includes changing the engine oil and filter, cleaning and lubricating the air filter, loctiting all of the bolts that can come loose, and making sure there are no parts that need replacing. Next, load all my gear, bike, fuel, tools, chairs, and other miscellaneous items in the trailer and get ready to head to Odessa, Wa. Moto-Jenn was busy loading the camper with everything we needed to sustain ourselves for living in the desert off-grid for 5 days.

We usually leave a few days before the race and camp about halfway. This takes a little pressure off and is very relaxing for Moto-Jenn and the pooch. We make it a little family adventure. This also allows us to get in line before the gate opens on Thursday. The race is held on 1200 acres of private land used to graze cattle in the winter. Yes, there are a few cowpies to dodge out on the racecourse.

It’s Thursday at 12:00 noon, and the gates swing open to let the first arrivals in. There are already several campers set up and fully dialed in. Most of these people are volunteers from the Stumpjumpers organization (the club that puts on the 100 each year). Others allowed in early are some of the industry vendors who provide parts, accessories, and services to the 6500 riders in attendance. Wait, did I just say 6500 riders? Yes, I think I did.

The Desert 100 race itself is the smallest part of the overall attraction of the weekend. There are other riding events at the 100 as well. It’s a real family affair that brings men, women, and children out to play on their motorcycles for 3-days in the desert. Poker runs, kid’s rides, and adventure bike rides go off non-stop. There are prizes, food, and fun to be had for all involved.

Our friend James from Canada showed up again this year to camp and race the 100 but with a bit of a deficit. He had shoulder surgery and was still healing from that. He had also fallen and landed right on his face giving him the classic shiner. It looked like he just came out of the ring in a prize fight! I think he had a few cocktails, tripped, and fell.

It’s Saturday night, and I’m cooking some pasta to carb load before the race. I do this so I don’t run out of energy before I finish the race on Sunday. I’ve also been taking my amino acids and protein supplements for the day. I do this for 3-days leading up to race day. I’m not working out leading into race day as my body needs the rest. Tomorrow morning it’s go-time!

We awoke (as we do most days here) to the sound of a revving motorcycle or 10…I’m quickly up and ready to get this day started. Some quick eggs and toast along with my amino acid concoction, and I’m fueled and ready. The rider’s meeting is held promptly at 11:00 AM, and the D-100 begins at 1:00 PM sharp!

With the riders meeting in the rear window, it’s time to get to business. It’s a chilly spring morning, but the weather is supposed to be perfect for racing-or, I thought. I step into the race trailer to get geared up before I do one final check of the race bike. Jenn is busy in the trailer getting around and ready to start pacing. She says it’s unnerving when I leave for the starting line where the race starts. That’s because she has no idea where I’m at in that big cloud of dust that would be 1200 riders (50-mile class) all headed down the start straight to the first turn before disappearing into the desert for 2+ hours.

The start of the Desert 100 is the coolest part, I think. As far as the eye can see, there is a sea of riders lined up to enter the service road that leads to the start. A few volunteers are in a pace car, and a few more are on bikes when someone on a bullhorn says, “Racers, start your engines!” I’m not sure I can accurately describe what 3400 dirt bikes sound like firing up all at once, but it gives me goosebumps even as I type these words.

With thousands of riders sitting there, revving their engines at full throttle, the lead cars start to move, and the riders follow them out onto the service road. It really is a spectacle to behold. The local news channels are there, along with thousands of spectators (mostly supporting friends and family) watching their rider(s) leave for the start. It’s the coolest parade I’ve ever seen, and it will be the last time most will see their rider until he or she finishes the race.

One of the first things I learned this year is that there is a strategy to staging at the starting line, and the seasoned veterans know this. The idea is to be right behind the pace car because you will have the first pick at the starting line. This is important because a few straight lines from the start lead all the way down the first mile before turning to enter the desert. If you’re not in one of those lines, you’re screwed. I was somewhere in the middle,

The race starts when the cannon is fired, but you first have to prop your bike up with a stick and walk back about 100 yards behind your bike. Once the cannon fires, you run to your bike as fast as you can, start it up, shift into second gear, and hold it wide open, shifting as fast as possible while trying not to hit someone or something or get hit. It’s utter chaos for the next 2 hours.

So here I stand, waiting for the cannon while trying not to pee 🙂 I have been hydrating nervously for the past hour. The first group has already started, so there are already 1700 riders in front of our class. The 50+, 60+, 70+, and 80+ men, women, Juniors, and team riders are all in the 50-mile class and the second to start.

Finally, the cannon goes off with a big puff of smoke, and I run as fast as I can to my bike (which is more difficult than it sounds in full moto-gear, a full backpack of tools’ and water), hit the starter, and take off shifting the KTM 350 through the gears as fast as I can. I started somewhere in the front 1/3 of the pack but quickly lost sight of any race-line due to the cloud of dust the other riders were kicking up. I’m literally just following the only thing I can see, which is the rear fender of the guy in front of me.

Remember when I said the weather should be perfect for the race? Well, it was so dry for so long that it created silt dust so fine that it almost immediately penetrated the foam of my goggles, causing dust to cling to the lens. I was frantically wiping the outside of the goggle lens with a cloth I fastened to the back side of my left hand, but my vision wasn’t improving. That’s when I realized the dust was on the inside. A little rain would have been a godsend.

Lesson #2, I found out that the best desert riders put baby oil on their goggle foam to keep the dust from getting in. Duh! Even at 60 years old and with years of racing motorcycles (mostly in the Midwest), I’m still learning. I didn’t even make it three miles and had to toss the goggles. In hindsight, I should have just stopped and cleaned them, but in my little pea-brain, I was thinking I still had a chance to podium. Man, was I ever drinking my own Kool-Aid!

The other problem with the weather was that there was no wind to speak of, and the dust just hung there. This brings me full circle to where we were at the beginning of this post. I wanted to quit in the worst way because my eyes were burning, and I just couldn’t see. I had to sit there for what felt like an eternity, just blinking my eyes, trying to clear the dust (which was now mud) from my eyes.

After sitting there a bit, I finally decided to get going and at least finish the race if possible. I figured that I had about 20 miles or so to go. Things were going relatively well when I came upon a good size bottleneck. There were at least 100 riders waiting their turn to get through what looked like one line through a tunnel. My bike started to overheat and boil the coolant out of the vent hose. I shut it off and started pushing the bike one or two feet every few minutes until it was my turn to go through. Once I was clear of the mess, it was time to get back on the gas.

I was just getting up to speed again when the bike started spark knocking really bad, and it quit. I was like, “Come on, man, now what?’ I looked the bike over and didn’t see anything wrong, and after about five minutes, it finally fired up. This process would repeat itself again and again, all the way to the finish line. THE ISSUE IMMEDIATELY REVEALED ITSELF when I rolled into the pits and put the bike on the stand. The water pump hose had popped off the flange, effectively dumping the coolant from the bike. I still can’t believe it ran 20+ miles with no coolant. The result was not pretty, and the entire cylinder head was toast.

I ended up finishing 14th in my class of 130 entries. 19 riders did not finish. Overall, I’m happy to have finished the race and learned a lot this year. Let’s just say I’m stubborn, and I like the challenge the D-100 offers. So, “I’ll be back.”

MM