April 2-2023 Desert 100, Odessa, WA.

Some of you may remember my post about the Desert 100 from last year, where I had to ditch my goggles five miles into the race due to dust on the inside of the lens. This is where I learned about putting baby oil on the foam in the goggles’ frame to keep the silt dust out. The first time I raced this event (2019), I learned about bib mousse; I got a flat tire 32 miles into the race. This year marked my third attempt at this grueling desert race in Eastern Washington. They say the “third time’s a charm” for a reason; it usually gives you enough chances to learn, plan, and execute, hoping the stars will align for a better result.

Well, that’s what happened this year, but not without a few monkey wrenches thrown into my (so-called) “PLAN” of attack. This year, my riding buddy from Michigan (Ryan “Ryno” Weatherby and his wife Denise) drove about 2,500 miles (one way) to join us at the D-100. Ryan is a very accomplished motocross rider and has teamed up with me on several hare-scramble events but has yet to race a motorcycle through the desert at break-neck speeds.

The Weatherbys showed up at our home in Bend, Oregon, on Saturday before the race so we could go to the desert and test the bikes. I learned that Ryno can ride like the wind in any condition and terrain. The dude just flat-out hauls ass!! He makes me look like a guy who just learned to ride and has yet to master getting his motorcycle into third gear. Sickening, really.

It started snowing when Ryan’s wife Denise stepped foot on Oregon soil. She informed us that it’s like this whenever she travels. She explained that a black cloud follows her wherever she goes, and it either rains or snows on her, depending on temperature and altitude. I was glad she came because as soon as we got to Odessa (the site of the D-100), it started raining- yes, no dust! But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

After a couple days of testing in the desert East of our home in Bend, Ryno had the KX-450 hooking up like a yarn ball on velcro. We loaded the bikes, gear, food, and libations for after the race and hit the road.

My good friend Harold from Giant Loop Moto hooked us up with vendor status, and we were through the gates in Odessa a day early to claim our patch of land for the weekend. We did help (the other Ryan) set up the Giant Loop booth on vendor row; heck, I even sold a few hundred dollars worth of gear while Ryan was busy visiting the loo.

The D-100 is the largest desert race in the Country, but that’s not why so many riders come. Over six thousand riders attend the Desert 100 each year and for a good reason. The main attraction is the family fun atmosphere and events starting early Saturday morning. There are Dual-Sport rides, Poker Runs, and unlimited riding in the “Square” almost all weekend. I would dare say that the race itself is less attractive to most who come to the D-100.

After a few days of listening to the sound of over-revving motorcycles belting out 2 and 4-stroke harmony all over camp, race day finally arrived. I was busy going over race strategy in my head as soon as I was conscious. The only time I’m ever nervous about a race is when driving to it. When race day arrives, I’m cool as a cucumber. I had already gone over every nut and bolt on the bike, changed the engine oil, checked the fuel level and coolant, adjusted the drive chain tension, verified suspension settings, released the build-up of air pressure in the forks, and cleaned the air filter. My bike was ready, and so was I.

Ryno was up tinkering around with his bike, but the look on his face said, “I think I might have to go to the toilet” Good plan; it’s definitely better than pooping your pants out on the race course. Yes, the racer’s creed is that when doing battle, you never stop, even if it means soiling your gear! I got that stuff all out of the way early on. My body has a daily schedule, like the world clock, which is very timely.

The riders’ meeting was set for 8:30 AM sharp, and the schedule said to bring your bike and not be late. Ryno wanted to roll in at 8:30 (he’s a cool Moto guy), but I explained my strategy for getting in line early. He grunted at me but submitted to my neurotic behavior. When we arrived at the rider’s meeting, what looked like a hundred riders were waiting to go. We sat there through the usual announcements and the playing of the National Anthem. Ryan and I looked at each other with huge grins on our faces, high-fived, and couldn’t wait to get underway. All at once, almost three thousand bikes fired to life.

The pace car started to lead us out to the starting line, but all of a sudden took a right turn, wait, WHAT? We are supposed to go left to get to the starting line! F%#C!! Ok, here is monkey wrench number one. Apparently, people were practicing their holeshot early, and the organizers decided to change the start location at the last minute. This is where my plan to line up early failed us. We were lined up to the very left of the main line to the holeshot.

When the cannon fired, it was time to run to the bike, fire the engine, and take off into a cloud of dust along with 1,500 other riders in our group. We had to go around a little knoll out of the main line, and when we joined the group of riders, we were almost dead last through the holeshot area. The start of a desert race is always a little chaotic. You are just trying not to get hit or run into another rider until things spread out. The first half hour of the race is just trying to find good lines around the mass of bikes in your way. The night before the race, I told a friend how I seldom get arm pump, yet there it was just 30 minutes into the race. I started to breathe a little more, loosen my grip, and squeeze the bike with my knees. My arm pump was gone a few minutes later, and I was settling into a nice pace.

I had the Beta running a gear high, lugging the motor just enough to find good traction on the slick, rough, rocky desert floor. I dodged and weaved my way through sagebrush, boulders, and riders who were swapping out all over the place. About 15 miles in, there was an uphill climb through a boulder field littered with downed riders. I found a clean line on the left and buzzed right up and over. I was so focused that I was choosing lines with the precision and clarity of a cat chasing a mouse.

Something magical happens to your body after about an hour of aggressive riding. You start to find another energy level you didn’t know you had. For some reason, I feel more robust during the race’s second hour than during the first. Maybe this is just nerves settling down? I don’t know, but whatever the reason, it always feels good to charge harder and smooth out the whoops. This year, the course was littered with rocks and whoops, some deeper than I have ever seen. If you race the outside lines, you can avoid the deepest ones.

At about the halfway point, monkey wrench number two showed up. There I lay with a rider and his bike on top of me. I approached another climb with two other riders to my left. I found a line on the right and proceeded to pass when the guy on the far left hit a big rock and ping-ponged into the guy to his right, who then fell into me. I couldn’t get up until he managed to pick himself and his bike off of me. Once he did, it was back to business.

While riding, I couldn’t help but worry about my buddy Ryno. After all, he had never raced in the desert for that long before. Riders were flying everywhere, boulders big as land mines, and a million other hazards waiting to take you out around every corner. I hadn’t seen him since the start and wondered where he was. I didn’t have to wonder long. When I approached the finish line, there he was, standing right next to the girls with a big, dirt-faced grin. He probably had time to eat, drink a beer, and shower. He passed me not long after the start and finished 10 minutes ahead of me.

Ryan finished 11th in the 50-59 class, and I finished 3rd in the 60-69 class. It was a good day for us both. Sadly, he checked the desert racing box and likely won’t return. It’s ok because I promised my wife this year that if I had a good result, I wouldn’t drag her back here again, at least until I can race the 70+ class 🙂

Thank you to all who helped me succeed this year, especially my wife, Jenn, for her patience, love, and support. Giant Loop Moto, Moto Shop Bend, M-Tech Beta, and Embark Fitness Bend

MM