Boy – where do I start? Well first off I might as well say now that the Red Kite Enduro 2009 was the toughest race I’ve done up until now. So tough in fact that I'm ashamed to say, I didn’t even finish the race!

It all started back with the Snow Run Enduro earlier in the year. I did that and got a silver finisher’s medal in the Clubman class, so when I got an email telling me about this event I was very keen. But not long after that I knackered my shoulder so I forgot about it. But I recovered from that quicker than I thought I would (and the vertigo attack which forced me to miss another race) so I decided to enter the Red Kite Enduro.

New tyres were dually fitted and I also installed a new mousse in the front tyre as during the ‘snow run’ I’d knocked though on the rim several times due to the going being very rocky and pretty fast in some spots. Scott-rider and my self set off for Wales on Saturday, stopping off at my mum’s place near Hereford for the night. The weather was forecast for rain, but I was hoping for dry skies, they’ve had it so wrong lately that I was pretty confident it would be fine and dry.

Race Day

Oh dear, Sunday came and it was raining from the outset. We got to the venue near Llandovery and followed the markers up into the Halfway Forest. Parking up in a clearing we got the signing on etc all sorted and got dressed for the event – all in the rain. It was alternating from little spits of rain to full on downpours.
Due to the rain the helmet cam remained in the car, with so much rain falling it would have only messed up the footage anyway due to all the water on the lens. Nicky had also decided it was too wet to take photos, so she stayed down at her mum place on the coast.

I was a bit surprised to see the clubman field was fairly thin on the ground, the majority of riders were either O40 vets or sportsman. Si Peavy was starting a few rows behind me.

Phill was no:55 so set off before me but when I got going (no:101) I passed him within minutes as his bike had died on him going down the first narrow little gully.

I was determined not to go too fast on the first lap. I’ve always been well under the allocated time of the other time card events I’ve done, so I didn’t want to tire myself out needlessly. After a few fire roads and the before mentioned gully (ending in a stream) the track turned off into the forest for the first time. The track followed a section cleared of trees but the going was littered with the small branches that remained. Standing up I cautiously negotiated the obstacles trying not to catch any branches at an angle that would grab the front end and throw you off. Safely over the branches and the track entered a road section that went downhill and was deceptively slippery, at the bottom the 90 bend to the right needed to be taken with care.

Unfortunately I can’t remember how the track all strung together now. But what it didn’t have was lots of fast rocky going, so the brand new mousse in the front tyre was a waste of time and effort! The nice soft one that was sitting at home in the dry and the relative warmth of my garage would have been ideal – bastard.

Too be honest the first lap wasn’t too bad. The long slopes were manageable and the open going hadn’t been churned up into a boggy mess just yet. The ‘special test’ was a bit tricky and fairly long. It wasn’t timed on the first lap which was a pity as that was the only time I managed to ride it properly.
About halfway into the lap I heard another bike coming so paused at the turn-in point to a section of cleared hillside. Si Pavey came passed and I followed him down the hill. At the first turn he was going too fast, locked the back end up and dumped the bike into the undergrowth! I pulled up next to him looking down at him trying to think of something funny to say while he picked himself and the bike (450 bmw) up. Nothing came to mind so I decided to keep my mouth shut and thought laughing might also not be the best thing either. Without a word he picked the bike up and set off again with me following. He naturally pulled away and I lost site of him as another rider came past. Once we’d cleared the hillside and got back into the forest again, low and behold but who was there on the deck again? Yep it looked like Si had clipped a tree or something and went down again.

The weather still wasn’t improving much, and it was raining when we got to a fire road that had massive puddles of undetermined depth along it entire length. Some guys were trying to rescue their bikes from obvious drownings, so I took the side routes along the edges. While these were also fairly wet and boggy, at least they wouldn’t swallow the bike. Having said that, the last part was very deep and that was where a small crowd had gathered to watch, complete with two photographers.

Still in the “take it easy mode” I remembered to glance at the stopwatch and suddenly realised I was due back within minutes. Speeding up I cursed my stupidity for not keeping an eye on the time. I pulled up at the check three minutes late on my bike’s clock but I also knew that was a bit slow so it was probably more like five or six minutes. Ok then time to speed up a bit. I’d not bothered filling up with petrol as the 450 would easily do another lap on a tankfull.
What followed from here on in I must say is a bit of a mystery. Somehow when I came down to Wales I’d forgotten to pack my wet weather riding skills! I just couldn’t make the bike go in the right direction. Remember what it was like the first time you ever went out in winter on clay soil? That was me that was, sitting in the seat paddling along like a fool. Now and again I’d manage to get up into a standing position but invariably I’d get a wobble and would have to dab a foot causing me to sit back down. I wouldn’t mind too much but in my group I’m renowned for being good in crappy conditions and ruts, so being reduced back down to ‘novice’ was a bit annoying.

I got to the first long climb and was going quite well but a stuck rider forced me to try a lane swop and down I went in a heap. Finding absolutely no traction after that, I somehow managed to get the bike to the top with prodigious use of the clutch, second gear and loads of swearwords - I find the f word is the most grippy!

The start of the special test went ok (it’s a slippery slope) and I kept it going fairly well even through the woods section that had started to rut up terribly. But it all went wrong when on an innocent looking grassy track through some small trees and I dumped it again, and then again shortly after that.

I was very cold and even wetter than a very wet thing in this shot... not a happy chappy

Somewhere high up in the hills there was a very boggy bit near a fence and I was picking my way though this when the engine cases got jammed into the top of the rut. The ‘blue smoke’ technique favour by Club DB didn’t work, nor did “The Technique” championed by Andy down in Cornwall, so I ended up wrapping my hands through the rear wheel’s spokes to hoist it out of the rut and onto the not quite so badly churned up part. This took all the strength in my legs, arms & back as the black gloop didn’t want to let go of its prize.

Carrying on I cleared the long wet road in the pouring rain and coming down off the hill on the road I was starting to get cold. I’d been wet through since the start and my body had used up its energy reserves. Coming into the pits I stopped for a pork pie and energy drink as I topped up the petrol. The bike had started spluttering several miles ago so I’d switched to reserve and it was ok after that. I’m not sure if it was petrol as I can easily do 45 miles during a H&H. I tried to clean my seat off with some rags to stop me sliding off, and also cleaned the grips before pulling on some clean gloves.

By now I was seriously late when I clocked in but I’d stopped caring. I laughed when I handed in the timecard and said I was early for next week’s race!

By now this was the third lap and the conditions started to get rather …… well there’s no other way to describe it other than…. shit! I’m sure there are many nice flowery words to use but sometimes the simple ones are best.
I was feeling ok riding up the first long cleared wood section at the start of the lap and I was still standing on the pegs, but as I was getting tired I ended up sitting down a few times when I got a wobble. The going was getting more difficult and near the end of this track it turned up the hill slightly onto another path. Large exposed branches/roots caught the back wheel and I ended up jumping off to try and push the bike forward while applying “The Technique”. Pushing like mad I lost my footing and ended up on my knees, breathing hard and sweating. I held onto the bike and thought to myself “what the hell am I doing this for – fun?” Just then the clouds parted and the sun shone down on that little patch of the woods! “Ok ok I’ll carry on”, I thought to myself, no need to resort to special effects!
Being worn out, everything became hard to do. I wobbled around grumpily but the long gentle slopes were just a nightmare. There was no grip what so ever, so I couldn’t get up enough speed to stand up. There was so much mud on the saddle I couldn’t stay at the front on the bike either, so slowly slid back down the bike until my bum was pushed up against the tool bag. My legs were too tired to paddle properly so I hung on like a hells angel gripping a massive set of ‘ape hangers’ and tried to steer the bike up with my legs flailing about behind! Needless to say this sort of riding style wasn’t too successful and I’m not sure it’ll catch on. Eventually I got to the top and stopped for a rest. I was breathing really hard and just about finished. I could hear bikes being revved to bits down the hill and another rider was sitting on his bike at the top as well. Unfortunately his race had come to and end as he’d burnt out the clutch on the way up. He’d got stuck in third gear earlier having hit a tree and bent his gear shaft.

The special test had now become something designed by the devil himself. The ruts in the woods got so deep the bike got solidly jammed on the cases. No amount of pulling would loosen the grip on the brown gloop. I tried the ‘legs bent and holding onto the rear wheel” lifting technique but it was stuck fast. I tried to wiggle it about but that didn’t help much and after several more vain attempts to lift the rear end I sort of gave up and just stood there, shattered. Another rider came past but also got stuck so I walked over to help him get his out with it in mind that he’ll help me. Once his was clear a spectator came along out of nowhere so I told the other rider to head off. The spectator wasn’t too keen to grab the muddy wheels but the bike was trapped so far down there was no other way of lifting it high enough. I’m sure I thanked him but by now I was pretty much knackered, so if I didn’t, thanks very much mate!
At the end of the test I stopped to rest for a while. I’ve no idea how they could read the numbers as I looked down at the bike and it was absolutely plastered with both front and rear numbers completely covered. After a few minutes a head poked its head out the Landover and asked if I was 104? “Nope” I replied “I’m 101”, so that tells you something about that!
By the time I got to the long boggy section next to the fence I was starting to come to the conclusion that this wasn’t that much fun any more and that I wasn’t sure I’d make another two laps. Just then I had another tumble into the bog and lay there with my left leg twisted around and caught in a rut by the bike. I tried to use my other leg to push it off but couldn’t shift it. Slowly sinking into the black mush I could hear another bike coming but he cruised on past without stopping! Ok this was starting to get serious so I resumed my pushing but the back wheel was also propped up on the sidewall of the rut so no amount of pushing would move it. I stopped to think for a bit and grabbled the bike by the left hand side hand guard and managed to pull it towards me, sliding up my legs. This freed up my left foot and I could eventually wriggle out. By now I had decided that this was going to be my last lap. The crowed at the big puddle had thinned out somewhat, but two photographers stood like vultures with cameras and flash guns at the ready. Going through the puddle I had a few wobbles and the flashes fired in quick succession but luckily I made it through ok.
Pulling into the pits Phil was there, I’d not seen him all day other than after the first five minutes. I declared that this was my last lap, I was giving up. He almost looked relieved that I was packing up as well, he’d stopped a while back and you can read all about his eventful day below.

It sure was a long drive home, especially sitting there on my own. Dropping off Phil’s bike on the way I eventually made it home and chucked all the wet gear in the garage in a big heap – jumping into a hot bath and eventually tucked into a lovely Chinese takeaway.
Would I do it again? Well I think the weather was against us at this event. Had it been dry I’m sure it would have been a totally different race. So I think I’ll leave it open ended as a ‘maybe’ – much like the Snow Run next year. I had an easy time of it this year in that one by all accounts. If that is going to be as hard as this one next year I might be a bit reluctant to enter it, unless I can con some mates into doing it of course!

Below is Phil's take on the day. It's fair to say that he had a hard time of it too!

Red Kite Enduro 19th July 2009

Jesus, what a difficult event that was! It has got to be the toughest day that I’ve ever had on a dirt bike. Not because of the extreme nature of the course (there were no logs to jump over or vertical climbs to get up or anything like that) but because of the sheer energy sapping terrain that was virtually relentless from start to finish and also because of the atrocious weather in the middle of July. It bucketed down all day and it was more like a soggy November than a summer’s day!

The day before the event I had to work until 5pm and also I hadn’t yet had time to fit a tow bar to my new Carlos Fandango Golf, so Redbikejohn very kindly collected my bike at 2pm and drove down to his Mum’s house near Hereford where she was putting us up for the night. I got down there at about 8pm and was made very welcome with a cup of tea and a large slice of homemade cheesecake accompanied by RBJ’s and his Mum’s tales of their life in South Africa. A very pleasant evening and a good bit of relaxation the night before the event. I kipped down on the air bed in RBJ’s Mum’s dining room and had a restful night’s sleep in the Herefordshire silence which was a nice change from the wailing police sirens that you get in my neck of the woods! The following morning we left at about 6.30am and drove the rest of the way down to the race near Llandovery in Wales, which took us about an hour and a half.

On arrival, RBJ quickly sorted out my rear brake, which seemed to have lost a load of pressure and then we went pretty much straight to scrutineering and signing-on area. It was at this stage that I started to have a few doubts because not only was it raining heavily but also almost every other bike in the paddock was a 2 stroke! Anyway, we worked out our time checks, which were one check per lap, 40 minutes per lap, 5 laps in total, and a special test on laps 2 to 5. I made a complete hash of mine so had to go back to signing on to ask for another timecard and started working it out all over again!

I was due to start at 10.03am and RBJ at 10.15am. About 10 minutes before the start I stuffed down a bacon roll from the mobile caterers but struggled to enjoy it because the butterflies we really flying in my stomach. So, 10.03am ticked over and off I started with 2 other riders on the same minute. The bike fired up immediately on the button and I got away second out of the three of us. We followed a fire road for about half a mile before it dropped down through the forest onto a single track that was wet, slippery and already heavily rutted. This followed on to a shallow river crossing where I had my first disaster of the day. Just as I was about to enter the crossing the bike just stopped dead and point blank refused to start. I had complete electrical failure and there was no way it was going to fire up. In the end and in a vain attempt I resorted to kicking it over in anger but within a few minutes I was completely knackered so I pulled it over to the side and took a breather. By this time a load of other bikes had passed me and then RBJ came past so I knew I’d already lost over 10 minutes within only a couple of miles of the start. Disaster!

And then my nightmare really began. In the middle of a Welsh forest, covered in mud and it pissing down with rain, I had the seat and tank off the bike and the battery and all the switchgear open to the elements. I have never been to a rain forest but I should imagine that it similar, both me and the bike were soaked through. After about 30 minutes and a lot of cursing and swearing I thought that the only thing that could be wrong was that the wiring had got shorted out somewhere so I begrudgingly put it all back together then left the bike and started to trudge back to the pits resigned to the fact that I’d driven about 150 miles to the event, paid £65, and lasted all of about 5 minutes! It kind of reminded me of a stag weekend in Amsterdam when I was in my teens but that’s another story! As I struggled on foot up through the forest tracks by pure chance a marshal on a quad came past on an adjacent access track. I flagged him down, explained the problem, and he said he’d collect the bike and tow me back to the pits. So we returned to the river crossing with me sitting dejected in the back pick-up part of his quad, retrieved the bike and towed it back to the parking area which took about15 minutes. I was just about to load the bike up on the trailer when I thought I’d have one last go at fixing it and decided to change the main fuse. Hey presto, the bike just fired into life immediately! Bloody hell, I was elated and thoroughly pissed off all at the same time for not carrying a spare one with me out on the course. An elementary schoolboy error but as they say you live and learn. With the bike now running perfectly I went back to the start and pleaded with the organisers to get back out on the course. Now, I know that if you leave the parc-ferme that you’re excluded, and I know that if you ‘hour out’ you’re also excluded. As it was now 11.25am then I should have been excluded on both counts but thankfully the organiser said ‘get back out there, you’ll be dropped from the results but just enjoy yourself’. What a result, top man, and I want to say a big thank you to the WTRA for letting me do that!

So having only completed all of about 2 miles of the first 15 mile lap in a ridiculous hour and a half rather than the allotted 50 minutes I was back out on the course and gave it the berries. Well, when I say giving it the berries I mean I was slipping from side to side in a continuous fish tale and struggling for grip everywhere! The course was a mixture of shortish slippery fire roads, forestry sections with fallen logs and roots to get over where they had been felling the trees, rutted single boggy tracks, muddy climbs with the odd boulder to catch you out, short steep gripless descents , and just about everything else you could imagine thrown in for good measure. Now, I’m used to long, fast, all day trail rides, hare and hounds events, and I’ve also trail ridden in Wales a few times and done the Hafren Rally but this type of terrain was something else. It was absolutely energy sapping and I lost count of the number of times I fell off. If you’ve ever ridden somewhere like Whaddon in the wet then that’s a sort of comparison but just multiply it ten fold. All the time it was raining hard and the conditions were truly terrible. I struggled on round and got to the special test where they kind of looked at me oddly because it was the first time they’d seen my bike and I should have been there about 2 hours earlier! Man, was that a hard test. Special is not the right word for it, I think ridiculous would be better! Again, not because of the severity but because there was no grip anywhere and I spent more time in the ferns than I did on the track. I cleaned the steep climb in the middle of it much to a bit of muted applause from the marshals but towards the end of the next flat section it I fell off for the umpteenth time and I was blowing so hard that I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest, so I stopped for a breather, stripped off my helmet and jacket and just stood there in the pouring rain with the bike on it’s side in the bushes pissing out petrol but I was so mullered that I couldn’t even pick it up! It was eerily silent apart from the occasional bark of a bike somewhere in the distance and no one came past for ages. Eventually a rider did come past which gave me the incentive to pick up the bike and to carry on but Christ knows how I stayed on it after that because I was absolutely exhausted. I spent the next part of the lap just paddling in the ruts, falling off on the roots, locking up the rear brake and sliding into the hedges and ferns virtually every 10o metres. I barely managed to get out of the seat for the entire lap! It was the most difficult thing I have ever done on a dirt bike and I was questioning my sanity for even entering in the first place with Mousses fitted rather than heavy duty tubes!

So, by this time and some two and a half hours after the start I’d only done 2 miles of the first 15-mile lap, and one more complete lap. I was bruised, battered, wet, and exhausted when I started lap 3, which was a big mistake. I can’t exactly remember where it was on that lap but at some point I lost it big time and catapulted off the bike in a high side style straight into a small tree. I was going fast at all it was just the pure momentum of being flung off. I cracked my heat a treat and just sat there next to the bike for a few seconds. Again, it was really quiet and I even though I felt physically ok I was also feeling a bit woozy and for some strange reason I kept saying to myself ‘you’ll be ok for your 42nd birthday next month’ which is weird because I’m 46 and my birthday is in December! I kind of realised at that point that I wasn’t thinking straight. After about 10 minutes of just sitting there I finally got up and back onto the bike and decided to get back to the pits as soon as possible because enough was enough for the moment. Again as luck would have it after only about 400 metres I came to a junction in the forest and on the other side of the tape I saw a marshal on a quad driving away and off up a fire road. I went straight over the tape and caught him up after about another 250 metres. He turned round in shock as I beeped my horn and we both pulled over. I said I’d had a bit of a ‘heavy tumble’ and after a bit of debate we decided to head back to the pits using the fire roads instead of the course, apart from one steep and long climb that we had to use on the course which strangely I didn’t struggle on at all?! After about 20 minutes we arrived back at the start and on the marshals orders St Johns Ambulance checked me out. They said there was nothing to worry about but my race was over. To be honest, I was kind of relieved because I was so absolutely mullered that I probably couldn’t have carried on anyway!

So, that was that. I popped a couple of strong paracetamol, had a can ok coke and a cup of tea and two turkey rolls and a couple of choccy bars and strangely I felt as right as rain! Funny what a bit of sugar can do isn’t it?!

After that I stood in the pits and watched whilst other riders came in and one by one they retired all with different tales of their mishaps. In complete contrast the fast boys were still coming in on time and some were actually waiting in the pits for their minute to click round before starting their next lap! Absolutely bloody amazing. I have no idea how on earth they managed to do that but as they say ‘respect’.

After a while RBJ came into the pits and said he’d done 3 laps and was calling it a day. He looked absolutely mullered which was some consolation because John is a much better rider than me and therefore I definitely knew it was a tough event and not just my own inabilities. I explained my tale of woe and we then packed up our fuel cans and trudged off back to the cars vowing to get properly fit before another event. There were also some mutterings of getting a 2 stoke but I put that down to the mild concussion! As we left the venue it was still bucketing it down and we had a 4-hour drive back which was all we needed.

So, what a day. As I said, it has to be the most difficult day that I’ve ever had on a dirt bike but the only lasting damage was a slightly bruised ego, a sore head, and my side stand completely ripped from the frame in the tumble. Oddly though, I’m really glad that I entered and experienced a proper Welsh Enduro! All credit to the WTRA for a top event and to the fast boys who still made it look easy. Barstewards!

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