After leaving Covina early Tuesday morning, we arrived in Ensenada, Baja California, in the mid- afternoon, spending a good half hour lost navigating our way through Tijuana along the way. Once we'd found Highway 1 Cuota (toll road), we quickly made our way south to the race start host city, along the Pacific coast about an hour's drive south of the border. Ensenada proved to be about as easy to navigate as had Tijuana, with a myriad of one-way and closed streets adding to our frustrations with a GPS that didn't know one road from the next. Eventually stumbling upon the hotel, we checked in and unloaded our gear into our small room above what I assumed from the smell to be a shellfish restaurant. Several other groups of racers were staying at the same hotel, one team from Japan working on their Honda CRF450 next to the pool.
All set with our accommodations, we set out on foot to find race HQ at the San Nicolas Hotel. Earlier, while lost, we'd spotted IRC installing race trackers, so we headed back there, hoping that would put us in the right neighborhood. The guys at IRC told us registration was six blocks south, then a block or two east. After six very long blocks we turned left and lo and behold...no hotel. We asked around to discover we'd traveled way too far, as the blocks on the main drag through town, down which we we walked, were each several blocks long. We backtracked about eight blocks north, and ended up at registration - a whole four blocks from our hotel. The rest of registration ended up being a fairly easy process: sign for registration packet; pickup Score membership materials; receive complimentary bottle of tequila; apply for tourist visa. With the formalities out of the way, we bought a couple drinks at the bar (which was conveniently set up at registration), and sat down to watch a couple episodes of The Baja Unlimited playing on a projection system.
Eventually we made our way (four blocks) back to our hotel, dropped off all our race materials, and set out for dinner. We decided to try Papas&Beer, a local sports bar chain, a couple blocks away. Once there, we discovered the street was closed for a Baja 1000 block party. Loud music, several stages of dancing podium girls, and a large crowd of mostly locals surrounded the restaurant, which tuned out to be closed. So we headed back the way we came and settled on a local sit-down place that specialized in roasted chicken and papas fritas. Despite poor service the food turned out to be both flavorful and plentiful. Returning to the room, we discussed our plans for the next day and what was left to be done, all the while wondering what unknown items we had forgotten completely.
We rose early on Wednesday with a checklist of unfinished items a mile long. First thing: breakfast. We found a local sit-down, La Tortuga (the turtle), where the service lived up to the name. Fortunately, as was the case from the night before, the food was excellent to compensate for the long wait. Once fully fueled and caffeinated we set out to track down our IRC GPS recorder. As it turned out, all we received from IRC was a pelican case to attach to the bike that holds the recorder - IRC actually installs the recorder on the start line.
On the way back from IRC we walked down contingency row. Contingency row is probably one of the more popular aspects of the race for the locals. Several blocks of the main streets in town are closed to traffic, and a mix of vendors, race teams, and race product suppliers set up booths on either side of the street. Any racers that are racing for contingency awards are required to bring their race vehicles down contingency row where race officials and reps from their sponsors verify that the sponsors' products are being used, and the correct logos are displayed on the vehicle. Mix in several thousand tourists, locals and street vendors walking among the race vehicles (and in some cases hanging onto/out of them), and it makes for a chaotic stroll back to the hotel. Many of the larger teams take the opportunity to throw out thousands of stickers, as well as t-shirts, posters, hats and anything else they can slap their logo on.
Next on our agenda was tech inspection, so we unloaded the bike, grabbed our helmets, and started to head back over towards contingency row. Doran took off on foot as I waited for the bike to warm up, and as soon as I tried to take off I could tell something was wrong with the bike: it couldn't make it out of the parking lot without dying! It would idle just find, but give it any gas at all and it would sputter and die. Not being my bike, I hadn't the first clue how to make the bike go beyond turn choke off and twist throttle. Doran returned shortly and after fiddling with the air screw for a few minutes had the bike running to where I could at least make it to tech.
Tech inspection was a different can of worms from any other race I've ever entered. In the US, tech inspection is all about making sure the bike isn't too loud and has a spark arresting exhaust system. Score's tech inspection on the other hand was all about safety. They verified our helmets were certified by an approved safety standards body, that our bike was in sound working order, and that we had all the required safety equipment and provisions (water, first aid kit, etc). While in line to have the bike inspected, dozens of kids came by asking for stickers, which we hadn't known to bring, and one even asked me to autograph his shirt (the poor guy's marker had run out of ink from all the signatures on it already, so I pretended to sign it on the back where he couldn't see). Once tech was taken care of, Doran rode the bike over to check in with Baja Pits (the pit service company we'd hired), and took the opportunity to finish dialing in the air screw.
With most the major things out of the way and the bike now running fine, we loaded it back in the truck, locked it up, and made our way back to Papas&Beer for some lunch. Papas&Beer turned out to have much better service that the other places we ate, but was one of the most annoying places I've ever eaten. Wait staff blowing whistles to the beat of full-volume 80's music, while other staff members breakdance, with other staff trying to sell you on a deal for (if I remember correctly) six beers and two shots of tequila for $20. Trying our best to ignore the environment, we started discussing contingency plans. Since we wouldn't be able to communicate during the race, we needed to be on the same page so that we'd know what to do in a given situation, and what to expect the other person would do. What do you do if you're on the bike and get to the swap point, but the truck isn't there? What do you do if you're in the truck, get to the swap point, and the bike doesn't show up? What do you do if you're on the bike and wreck out of the race or otherwise can't continue, but can't contact the truck? We discussed several scenarios for a good hour and agreed upon a set of rules that would help keep us on the same page as the race unfolded.
Once back to the hotel, we set about organizing our race supplies. It was daunting to consider all the equipment I would be packing for this event - most of it I would never have needed for another race: radio, headset, flashlight, medical kit, GPS tracker, tool belt, knife, race map, Baja map, pit map, spare GPS batteries, spare radio battery, spare gloves, spare goggles, a half dozen energy bars and a full dozen energy gels, extra base layer, can of redbull (for emergency use), helmet camera, cell phone, glow sticks, chapstick, visine, head-mounted flashlight... Looking at it all I could feel the weight of it on my shoulders. And that didn't include the 70oz of water that I'd be packing either.
Later that evening we made our way to the mandatory riders meeting at the local cultural center. All racers are required to attend, and this was our first glimpse of desert racing celebrity. The meeting was all business, and after speeches from the local government and race officials, three of the more experienced racers took turns emphasizing the need for safety out on the course during the race. First Roger Norman talked about how dangerous the dust is, and how it played a role in his running into a motorcyclist at 100 miles per hour in the previous Baja 500. Neither of us had heard of that incident before, but we got the picture - when the trophy trucks and buggies come through, get out of the way and wait for the dust to settle. Next, Johnny Campbell took a turn at the mic, and talked about how dangerous the dust is, and when pulling off the course to make sure to stop in a place that doesn't look like a good place to pass for a trophy truck. Finally, Robbie Gordon took his turn, and talked about how dangerous the dust is, and how GPS has made it less safe, since they can drive blindly through the dust. He also talked about an accident earlier that day involving another competitor pre-running the section from Ensenada to Ojos Negros (which I would be riding the next morning). The racer had collided with non-race traffic cresting a rise in the road, where they could see the road with the GPS, but couldn't tell there was a car there until it was too late. At this point the danger of the event had fully sunken into our skulls. We talked about all we'd learned regarding course safety as we left the meeting in search of dinner. Down the block from our hotel was another local joint with bad service and great food. As we ate, we talked over the plans for race day, and reviewed all our contingency plans one last time. The start of the race was fast approaching. The months of research, planning, training and dreaming was all coming together, and the journey was a few short hours away.
Down the other side we arrived at Animas Forks, a small, long-since abandoned mining site sitting near 11,000 feet elevation. After making a quick snack out of power bars, Rick decided that he would head down to Silverton to find a hotel for the night while Doran and I rode on, over some of the many mountain passes in the area.
