Hare Scrambles for the Enduro Riding Being
So there I was, lined up at the start of the B seniors race. I'm looking around at everyone else, and trying to calm my nerves when all of the sudden "bang!", the gun goes off, and everyone else rockets away while I'm trying to collect my thoughts. Doh! Welcome to your first hare scramble.
All year people have been telling me that W-ville is best xc race in the area. "If you only do one race, do Wilseyville" is what I was told. Of course, I was also told that if it rained, the course would be nightmarishly slick and difficult, and the stream crossings would swallow grown men whole, and people would be getting stuck on the uphills, and dragons and bears would eat any survivors anyway. Luckily, it rained the two days before, so I would get to judge for myself.
I didn't know any better, so i loaded up my 27' travel trailer, complete with cat, and headed up there. Once I got past Mokelumne Hill, it started to look more and more like something out of "Deliverance", but there wasn't anywhere to turn around, so I figured I'd keep going. My Tundra was just barely strong enough to drag the trailer up the 1-lane paved driveway to the Schad ranch without going into 4WL, and I breathed a great sigh of relief until I saw where I actually had to drive. The entrance to the field where the parking and start were located was a deep slippery quagmire, and it was obviously getting worse as more people showed up. I pulled in, and parked about as close as I could get to the exit. It looked like if the rain kept up, people might have trouble even getting back up to where I was, much less actually making it out the exit.
Naturally, as soon as i got set up, someone pulled next to me, with his generator pointed directly at my front door from about 8' away. 10 mins later, someone else pulled up on the othe side, with his generator also pointed directly at me from about 6' away (note to self: next time, park next to someone who is already set up, so I can be further than 10' from the generators). All this time it was raining and nasty, and I was a little nervous about the race. Thankfully, motorcycle racers go to sleep MUCH earlier than bicycle racers, so it was dead quiet by a very reasonable hour, and I slept like a baby and awoke to cold, clear sunshine.
Seniors and superseniors were the first group to get a crack at the 10 mile course, which was good because it wasn't rutted up yet, but bad because it was still slick as snot. My well-thought out technique of not really paying attention payed off with a dead-freakin'-last position out of the gate. Fortunately, B riders are pretty competent, and the old guys mostly ride with some consideration, so we didn't have any logjams in the first few corners, or even when the trail funneled down to singletrack. The only real problem I had on the first lap was getting stuck behind a couple guys who were stopped for no reason I could discern on a slippery but not steep uphill. I was just about to shoot the gap between them, when one of them tried to get going, and slid sideways into the other one, closing down my chosen line. By then it was too late to do anything except stop and whine. After what seemed like hours, but was probably 10 seconds, they were still flailing and spinning, so I backed up a couple feet, and got enough momentum to go up on the embankment above them (mmm, new s12's rule), and go about my business with a clear trail in front of me.
The race course was downright awesome. It was very twisty and narrow for alot of it, but there were still places to pass. There was nothing particularly technical for an experienced enduro racer, but the challenge of going fast through it without getting any breaks, and using the wider spots to pass without overcooking the next narrow spot were enough to keep me intently focused. Most of my passes occurred when someone bobbled or flailed on something, leaving me an opening I could shoot through. To facilitate this, I mostly left a few yards gap when I was behind someone, so as not to get taken by surprise and be in a situation where I had to flail too.
The only hard pass was a fellow on a big orange 4-stroke on the 2nd lap who would pin it and shower me with mud in every wider section, then as soon as it narrowed down to singletrack he would slow down to about the pace my girlfriend rides. I musta followed him for 3 miles or more before I finally got to take advantage of an alternate high line in one of the streambeds while he flailed in the rocks.
On the 3rd lap, I got into a long battle with a rider that turned out to be Richard Lujan, who I had met at one of Dave Wood's riding classes, and also worked with at the Downieville mtb race, but of course I didn't recognize him on the bike. We passed each other a couple times, but mostly just when one or the other made a mistake. He was moving at good enough pace that I was happy to follow until something happened. Fortunately, something happened a few hundred yards from the end. He took the outside line over some roots, and then missed a shift when he went to jump over a log, allowing me to get in front and hold that spot to the line, thus moving me up all the way to 14th (woohoo!) in the class of really-old-guys-who-aren't-quite-good-enough-to-race-A's.
All in all, I really enjoyed the race and course. I expected more aggression from the other racers, but I was pleased to see that my class (at least the middle and back of the pack) was racing hard without taking crazy or dangerous chances. I watched the younger classes start, and I was pretty amazed at the A and B groups. About a zillion riders head into that first turn, going about as fast as they can go, and they somehow all get around it smoothly and in one piece. The c's had a few little tangles, but nothing serious.
Just as I suspected, exiting the venue proved to be the most challenging aspect of the whole event. I couldn't even think about leaving after my race, because even people that weren't towing 7000 lb rigs were fishtailing wildly and running into the fence and other entertaining stuff. We saw one guy that looked like a finnish rally-car driver in his fan towing an enclosed bike trailer. He appeared to be completely out of control (and going pretty fast) for about 100 yards, but he made it. Another guy got his motorhome stuck and had to be towed out. Another guy, in a HUGE motorhome, managed to dig it all the way down to the rear axles. He might still be there, for all I know. After an hour or so of watching others, and learning the good lines, the people around me finally started clearing out so I had room to maneuver. By approaching from a different direction, and staying high at the start, I missed the worst of the slippery parts, and got out without incident, except for my pounding heart. I still need to live in that trailer a little longer, so I can't afford to do anything stupid with it.
Will I be there next year? Most certainly. Will I bring my trailer? Not if there's any chance of moisture. Keep your eye on ama-d36.org for the date of next year's Wilseyville Hare Scrambles.
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