World Travel By Motorcycle - WorldRider: Journey of Adventure & Discovery

The bivouac is the brain and life center of Dakar. But with the long transit stages over the last three days, most competitors barely have the time to see where they stand because they must work on their vehicles and get much needed sleep.

So while Robb and Ben and the Darkcyd Racing Team are now out of the race, there is much energy and excitement about Dakar and the competition by simply following the race route. And as the first ever effort for the Darkcyd Racing Team, the experience learned as the days go on is invaluable. Will Darkcyd compete again? There are no decisions — yet. But if there was another showing at Dakar, the information and experience, both on and off the course is invaluable. The team will continue on and follow the action until it reaches Lima in about 10 days.

Today the mood of the team lightened. The approximately 450km transit from San Juan to Chilecito culminated with a dramatic ride through a spectacular canyon of red rocks accented by brilliant orange, sage and mocha colors. The narrow two lane dirt road climbed to 6,000 feet and the more we climbed the river winding below faded from view. But dirt road had nary a guard rail and the drop into the river below would me death for anyone not paying attention. The vistas of the colored ragged cliffs and scraggy landscape along the river were stunning. But the sound of engines roaring and the view of motorcyclists, quads and cars winding their way back to the bivouac after some 6 or 7 hours of racing was equally impressive.

The team enjoyed a leisurely day. No longer was the fate of the Desert Warrior and its iconic duo of Robb and Ben a worry. They were with us. While the team thought they’d make it further, it is important to note that almost 100 competitors had dropped out of the race by the end of the day. This is a serious race. This is a hard race.

Fellow American team, Mark McMillim, a legendary Baja California racing team, that perhaps has scored more wins that nearly any other, had made Dakar 2012 its first showing too. Mark was out of the race. That leaves only two other Americans in the race for Dakar 2012: Robbie Gordon and Darren Skilton. You may remember that Darren and Robb worked together as Darren gave Robb the invaluable sand dune training in California in early December.

Darren is still in the race. And so is professional Robbie Gordon and his new teammate Nassar Al-Attiyah. And on a motorcycle still hanging in there is N. Suesse (#81).

We will continue watching the American cars and hopefully have a chance to catch up with the handful of American motorcyclists still in the race.

: Darycyd Racing Team Desert Warrior on Stage 1 Dakar 2012

: Legendary Raff McDougal diagnoses brake issues after failure toward the end of Stage 2 Dakar 2012

: Robb Rill & his Desert Warrior, sadly cannot finish the Dakar 2012 because of missed waypoints due to brake failure

: Life in the Bivouac can be dusty, dirty and certainly windy. Tara fights with her tent in San Rafael

: Rill & Slocum tearing through Argentina pampas in the Darkcyd Racing Team’s Desert Warrior

: Master Tech Raff McDougal contemplates Dakar 2012 and the Darkcyd Racing Team’s Desert Warrior

: Capable and creative Ben Slocum the Darkcyd Co-Driver tests the thinning air at high altitude on the high plains of the Argentine Andes

: Looking to the future. Will there be another run at Dakar for Darkcyd? Robb Rill thinks.

: “Ok. So the Magic Mushroom isn’t bad for traveling, just don’t ask me to sleep in it.” Tara Rill on the Ford Ranger pseudo RV taking us from stage to stage on the Dakar 2012 route.

But here in South America where 465 teams are taking man (and woman) and machine to their limits every day. Historically more than half of those teams that start the race, ever finish. Why? “That’s Dakar.”

With a solid first stage and great 75th place ranking, Robb and Ben and Darkcyd Racing were amped for the second official stage of the rally. From the outskirts of Bahia Blanca the first vehicles set off from the bivouac sometime around 6AM. Motorcycles and quads, followed by the “cars”, which include buggies, pickups, SUVs and other vehicles four and two wheeled cars, followed by the trucks which Tara tenderly refers to as ‘garbage trucks” all are gone by sometime after 10am. The bivouac is packed up and heads to the next stage.

Robb and Ben started out sometime after 8am for a nearly 500 mile journey to San Rafael, a mid-sized city in the heart of the Argentine pampas. There would be about 200 miles of official race course competition and about 300 miles of transit, from Bahia Blanca and then later to San Rafael.

It was sometime around 3pm when I received a text message from Robb — he’d traveled about 150 miles of the days race course. “We kicked ass,” Robb texted, “but we’ve lost our brakes.”
The race course for the second stage of the Dakar 2012 Edition would wind through the pampas on rough gravel roads, dry river beds, and eventually mid-sized sand dunes and then finishing through gentle rolling hills on loose gravel until finishing the transit on paved roads through the center of San Rafael and to the bivouac where the temporary city of some 2,500 people bristles with the energy of whirring power tools, thumping air compressors and generators and the revving of engines from single cylinder motorcycles to massive diesel powered trucks that look like oversized Tonka toys.

Tara and I set out around 9am just as the first of the trucks entered the initial transit stage. Our ride was through endless miles of scrubby pampas, where the road never turned. Two lines of tarmac slapped down through the middle of desolate nowhere. As we passed through nondescript towns, we were amazed at the fans passion and commitment to catching a glimpse of Dakar.

When we arrived at the Bivouac we set up camp while fighting with whipping winds and contemplating the threatening sky. Large drops of rain fell teasingly on our forearms, heads and gently landing with a muted thud on the hood of our Ford Ranger pseudo RV. Gusts of wind ripped our tents out of the ground and tossed them into a chain link fence some 30 feet from our campsite. The winds turned our portable easy to set-up canopy shelter into a pretzel, perhaps rendering it useless for the rest of our time in South America. “Vamos a ver.”

It was sometime around 3pm when I received a text message from Robb — he’d traveled about 150 miles of the days race course. “We kicked ass,” Robb texted, “but we’ve lost our breaks.” Robb sat out in the middle of the course looking down on a mountain range and nearly 40 km of sand dunes. “I don’t want to risk it,” he reasoned. In the middle of nowhere communication is challenging. Even with significant cell signal strength, the 2,500 people in the Bivouac tax the capacity of the cell network. And the satellite phones weren’t much helpful. The Iridium network of low earth orbiting satellites make for a great tool to communicate basic information, but fall short for any meaningful conversation.

The Rally Raid UK T-5 assistance vehicle was still on the course behind Robb. Driving a “MAN” “garbage truck” fitted with tools and spare parts that would make most auto shops jealous here in South America, Paul Round and Robb were trying to coordinate a support plan while Raff and the Rally Raid UK group at the Bivouac tried to serve as a relay center between the group.

The message we heard at the Bivouac was clear. Robb must complete the stage if he wants to continue to race the remaining stages. Failure to do so might make him a statistic as one of the the starters that don’t make it to the finish. If the T-5 support vehicle passes Robb, it would not be able to turn around to provide support. And the T-5 assistance vehicle manned by Raff and Bill would be unable to help Robb, unless he was willing to face disqualification by the Dakar organization.

While Robb and Ben waited and Paul and Robb experienced communication problems, Mark McMillin, one of only three other American teams racing cars in the 2012 Dakar limped to where Robb was waiting. Mark had nearly blow his engine on opening day. The second day he finished it off. So the two grouped together and with Robb on the front of a tow strap provided power and forward motion, while Mark and his Jeep Cherokee on the read provided braking.

They abandoned the course and found an access road where Mark’s team would bring a trailer and take the Jeep back to the Bivouac. By now Robb had left the race course. Because every move each race vehicle makes is tracked and recorded by the Dakar organization, Robb would have to answer for this deviation. In the spirit of Dakar, Robb helped a fellow “teammate”. But to finish the race he’d have to return to the position he left the course and continue to each check point through to the control time check point at the end of the stage.

By now the sun had set. A medical vehicle from the Dakar organization told Robb that riding the dunes at night would be very dangerous. Why? Because there were several vehicles stuck in the dunes and many racers were camping until morning. So Robb asked what would be the outcome if he returned to the Bivouac and missed the last check points?

Could he just take a huge penalty and continue? Or would he be disqualified? Paul and another Desert Warrior racer, David communicated with the Darkcyd Team at the Bivouac: Robb would have to continue without breaks. Because there was a lot of sand coming up, the risk of no brakes would be minimal. But there were still dunes. High dunes. If Robb were to roll the Desert Warrior, who could pull him out? And when?

After much deliberating and evaluating of various options, including heading back to the stage, camping at the foot of the dunes and finishing the stage in the morning. Dakar rules state as long as a racer completes the stage and arrives back at the Bivouac before the first vehicle departs the following day, the racer can begin the stage the next morning but will be assessed a penalty — usually around three hours.

Raff, Bill, Tara and I headed out to the road where Robb and Ben had towed Mark McMillin. By the time we arrived some local Argentinean guys had helped Robb and Ben get enough tire pressure so they had some brakes. Continued conversation with the medical support truck and the Dakar organization on the phone, Robb decided it would be best to head back to the Bivouac and risk disqualification and try to explain to the officials the situation:

Medical support told him it would be too dangerous to ride the dunes at night.
Robb missed checkpoints and left the race course to support a fellow competitor
The team would accept the penalty

The Dakar official on the phone suggested whatever Robb does, he should come to the officials office and please his case. But it was after 3AM when we arrived at the Bivouac the Officials office was closed.

Raff and Bill worked through the night to fix the brakes. For those interested in the technical details, just a week before the race, Robb fitted the race car with a new power braking system. When installing the new system, Raff kept the original system infrastructure in place, but just changed those components necessary for the new system. It was the new system that failed on the course. So Raff and Bill worked through the night to change the brakes back to the original system.

In the morning the car was ready to go, great working breaks and the best news: Robb’s name was still on this list of staring cars for Stage 3.

Except when he pulled up to the starting line, the starter pulled him aside. He could not race anymore. Darkcyd Racing car #441 missed multiple check points and was disqualified. The starter had spoke to Robb that evening and then to Ben. He was under the impression that someone from the team told him that #441 would finish the stages. As of that morning, car #441 had not finished the stages. Therefore car #441 could not continue. No pleading, no reasoning and no appeal policy.

Tears flowed, anger and disappointed permeated the team. This was only day #2. Everyone thought there’d be more racing. But for the 2012 Edition, Robb, Ben and Darkcyd Racing were out of the race.
And that’s Dakar.

With the streets closed and jammed with thousands of spectators and a giant ramp and video display sitting in the court yard with a grand view of the Atlantic Ocean and Mar del Plata’s legendary beaches, the Dakar 2012 Edition officially begins with a Ceremonial Podium Presentation at the NH Hotel on New Years eve.

The streets rumble as the power of engines revving the the stomping feet, clapping hands, whistling and lots of flag waving as each of the 465 Dakar competitors drive their vehicle in front of the eager fans. With 54 more entrants more than the 2011 Editions, the 2012 Dakar Rally continues to draw more support and visibility each year.

With more than 50 countries represented and the rally broadcast to 79 countries, this year will be the first time the Rally will be televised by a major US television network. Well, sort of. NBC bought Versus, the network that contracted US television rights for Dakar for 2012. Most fans and US-based racers hope that NBC keeps the rally and brings more attention to the sport that Robby Gordon, the NASCAR and Baja champion, calls “the best kept secret in auto racing in the United States.”

After Robb and Ben pleased the crowds with antics of more sticker giveaways, sweetheart kisses and Robb picking Tara up off the ground and into his arms, they parked the Desert Warrior into a secured area called Park Fermé. Once the cars enter this ‘park’ they cannot leave, nor be worked on until after the start of the race on New Years Day.

With plenty of stress and anxiety oozing from the pores and expressions on the faces of Tara and Robb, Paul and the rest of the Rally Raid UK technical support team, who have more than 10 years of Dakar experience, did their best to quell the fear and anxiety. Yet with so much on the line and with so many unanswered questions and a potential logistical quagmire, it seemed that Robb would not get what he needs most to not only start but finish the Dakar: sleep.

With the explosions of fireworks, horns honking and car alarms ringing well into the new year, Robb and Ben managed a few hours of sleep and after a few tweaks and a morning pep talk, launched into the Dakar race at about 9am.

Fans lined the streets in Mar del Plata and well into the outskirts and out onto the campo and pampas of local towns and tiny farm settlements just to see the cars pass. They wave Argentinean flags, urge the racers to honk their horn and push onto the streets with grabbing hands hoping for a t-shirt, hat, sticker or just to touch or get an autograph of a Dakar competitor.

The first stage of the race would last more than 400 miles, but most of this would be ‘transit’ — traveling to the actual race stage and then from the stage to the Bivouac, the traveling nerve center of Dakar rallies. The stage on January 1st was a mix of sand, much along the coast, gravel farm roads and more sand dunes, some 60-80 feet high, or just a tease of what’s to come in Chile later in the week.

Despite some still nagging slipping of the clutch, Robb conservatively took the Desert Warrior through the stage with no complications and often passing more experienced competitors as he put his dune training and the Desert Warrior to test.

At the end of the first day Robb not only completed his first Dakar day, he ranked 75th overall out of the 465 competitors. On the sandy terrain, they had dropped the tire pressure of the Desert Warrior to below 20 psi, but when they tried to use the onboard compressed air, the system failed. And this is the same system that provides air locking differentials for high four-wheel drive. This new problem would have to be sorted before the tough stages set for the next two days. A problem Robb was confident that could be solved between his team and the Rally Raid UK support crew.

When I saw Robb at the Bivouac later that evening, the tension and anxiety had given way to confidence and a feeling of accomplishment — key ingredients required to finish Dakar.

: Robb signs autographs for screaming fans. – Photo By Dario Saidman

: Robb & Ben on Ceremonial Podium New Years Eve – photo by Dario Saidman

: Fellow US Dakar Competitor and Baja Legend Mark McMillin lines up for podium.

: Riding up to the podium, fans packed and screaming!

In December of 2007, just days before the start of the 2008 Rally, the Dakar organization cancelled the legendary rally for safety considerations. Brutal executions in Mauritania claimed by Al Queda sealed the casket for any future African Dakar Rally. It’s South America’s rally today.

It would be impossible to get a new regulation suit in time for the race start, so inspectors took a flame to the thread used on the embroidery to see if it would burn.
Even as press covering the event, Tara and I needed to take our 2008 Ford Ranger with the camper home sitting in the bed through the Dakar safety inspection. We fitted the car with an emergency survival kit, two spare tires, reflective vests, fire extinguisher, a tool to break the windshield and cut the seat belts and more. Our vehicles was then officially designated as a Dakar vehicle, complete with the stickers of the rally and its sponsors. Our vehicle was designated to travel along the assistance route. Some other press had additional safety equipment and more rigorous inspection requirements, including roll cages and approved clothing.

For Robb and Ben, the set back with the clutch was followed by the need to put the Desert Warrior through a rigorous punch list to ensure all loose ends and safety issues were addressed prior to scrutinizing/inspection. LIke our press registration, both Robb, Ben and the Desert Warrior and Bill and Raff and the T5 support vehicle had to go through registration and then inspection.

While our Ford Ranger was fitted with the “Trippy” GPS unit, the Desert Warrior required a special tracking device and lockable GPS unit called an Iritrack. This not only receives GPS satellite signals, it can transmit location information to the Dakar organization. It’s also what allows us to follow in near real time vehicle position — like on the Darkcydrallyracing.com website.

The Desert Warrior had been fitted with new Iritrack device for the Baja 500 race, one that include more powerful antenna and reception. While it had been approved for an inside windshield install for Baja, the Dakar organization and the Iritrack support personnel on location forced Darkcyd Racing to drill a hole in the roof of the Desert Warrior and fit the antenna to the roof above the co-driver cockpit seat. This pushed the techs and the time allotted to complete the inspection.

It took more than an hour to secure appropriate connectors, cable and to attach the antenna, so it was nearly 6:30 by the time the Desert Warrior rolled into the Dakar inspection intent. Here the car was decorated with the appropriate stickers while inspectors scrutinized the car, even putting it up on a lift for a closer look. That’s where inspectors discovered that the there was no hole in a bolt on the turbo so they could seal it with a tag—kinda like the electric company does with a meter. But between Raff and Bill and the techs at Rally Raid UK, they drilled a hole while the inspectors completed the inspection and who eventually tagged and sealed the turbo. This would ensure that no changes or work could be done on the turbo during the race. The tag will be removed at the end of the race.

It’s here where the driver and co-driver clothing and safety devices are checked. Both Ben and Robb were fitted with custom made Sparco full body flame retardant racing suits. Sparco is the defacto standard racing suit used by top drivers in nearly every race circuit worldwide. Darkcyd Racing had ordered the suits with custom embroidered names just above the left breast. However Sparco had embroidered through three layers of fabric through to the inside lining. Dakar organization scolded the Darkcyd Team and informed them that the rules and regulations clearly state that nothing may penetrate the inside liner layer of racing suits. They even pointed out that Sparco’s logo and graphics didn’t penetrate the layer. Robb and Ben were befuddled as to why and how Sparco could let such an oversight passed quality control.

It would be impossible to get a new regulation suit in time for the race start, so inspectors took a flame to the thread used on the embroidery to see if it would burn. Alas, at least the thread was fireproof and the inspectors let the suits pass.

Meanwhile thousands of locals crammed the grassy area in front of the Argentinian Naval Base in Mar del Plata and waited patiently for each car to complete its inspection and ride up on ramp in front of a massive video display while local news media interviewed each driver. Robb and Ben jumped out of the car and handed out Darkcyd Racing stickers to eager and happy fans looking to connect with the racers.

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December 29, 2011

Argentina/South America 06:07 PM
Making The Way To The Bivouac - Mar del Plata

Making The Way To The Bivouac – Mar del Plata

With the clutch issue hanging over the team’s head, there were a few more loose ends to tie up before heading to Mar del Plata, a beachside Argentinean resort city about a five hour drive from the capital, Buenos Aires. Because Tara and I would be monitoring the Dakar rally as press, we are required to have our own vehicle. This vehicle would be inspected by Dakar officials to ensure it meets the safety standards as well as it would be marked with the same decals and stickers as the racer cars, trucks and support vehicles.

We learned that conditions on the bivouac, the command center for the rally, were extremely rough, Robb had arranged to lease a small RV/camper so that life on the bivouac would be more comfortable for Tara as well as a quieter and more comfortable place to sleep for the sure to be exhausted driver and co-driver. For Tara, her concern was a clean and private bathroom. However, renting the RV in Argentina was no easy task. It would need the documentation for crossing the borders of Chile and Peru. And we needed to arrange to have the RV delivered back to Argentina from Lima Peru.

When the guy showed us how to dispose of the the waste, Tara had to step away. I thought she was going to get sick.
All these issues were handled with some degree of difficulty, so we agreed that Raff and Bill would leave early in the AM towing the injured Desert Warrior behind, while Robb, Tara, Ben and I would take taxis (yes, we need two to carry all of us and our supplies) to pick up the RV. Plus, we decided to bring along my friend Dario who could be our Argentina Ambassador in Mar del Plata and help source anything we needed or help solve problems.

The look on Tara’s after she saw the RV expressed more than disappointment—horror. A simple but sad case of expectations not being met. The RV arrangements were made by one of Robb’s employees and photographs Tara had seen on the internet showed a built in bathroom. The RV that was being cleaned and prepped as we arrived at 8am on Thursday morning provided for a nice portable toilet — one that sits on the ground with privacy provided by a canvas booth that extends like an awning from the side of the RV.

When the guy showed us how to dispose of the the waste, Tara had to step away. I thought she was going to get sick. Robb did everything he could to try to switch to a different RV, but all the RVs were leased, besides, it would be impossible to get the documentation for border crossings for a different vehicle in our very tight time frame.

Robb expresses some tension as another driver, David, discusses particulars and suggestions.

The RV company was very thorough and detailed in explaining how to operate the jack, where the spare tires were and emergency reflector signs and more. But they did forget to tell this group of foreigners one thing. With Ben behind the wheel, we were pulled over by the highway police just an hour south of the RV company. The young lady in a loose police uniform yet with big brown eyes explained that Ben would be served an infraction and assessed a fine (a “multa” in Spanish) because he was driving without headlights. On national highways it is required to drive with lights. Nobody told us this. So we put our Argentinian ambassador to work, and Dario managed to bribe the officer for about $25 rather than the $300 she originally requested. The brown-eyed policewoman stuffed the bills in her pants.

At the bivouac in Mar del Plata the desert warrior was already on jack stands and sitting above the ground like some sort of space age hovercraft. Bill and Raff scuttled around with the stress oozing from their pores. This is not what After more than 4 hours the Desert Warrior was lowered back to earth and tested—but the clutch was slippingthey expected to do here. There was a long list of loose ends they hoped to address. instead, they had to fix the clutch problem. Thankfully, the contracted support team from Rally Raid UK was there to support our team. Between them they realized because of the new clutch, gap between the slave cylinder and the master cylinder was too much. Rally Raid UK techs suggested spacing it out about 3mm to close the gap.

While the team worked on the clutch, Tara and I proceeded through the long process of getting our press credentials. Like a kid on a scavenger hunt we were handed a document, they called it a passport, and directed us to a large tent filled with about 20 booths staffed by Dakar officials and others. We had to go to each booth/table and either go through a doctrinarian (environment, border crossings, safety) or present documents (registration, title etc.). Once our passport was fully steamed we could then proceed to have our press vehicle inspected. However, Raff and the techs would have to install a special GPS device, referred to as the “Trippy”, that would allow us to follow the race assistance route. There would be no way they’d be able to install this until the Desert Warrior was ready for its inspection.

Meanwhile, Rally Raid techs strongly suggested we get aluminum plates that would serve as a base in sand or on rough terrain for the Desert Warriors built in hydraulic lift—a tough call at 2pm on a holiday weekend. But Dario set off hoping to have these fabricated to match Rally Raid specs.

After more than 4 hours the Desert Warrior was lowered back to earth and tested—but the clutch was slipping. Raff and the team reasoned that there might’ve been some fluid on the clutch, plus because it was new it needed to heat up to temperature, but the short test drive wasn’t enough. There was plenty of grab at low RPMs but high a bit of slip. This we’d have to wait and see. With more than a million people flocking to Mar del Plata for the new year and The Dakar, the streets were choked with traffic and pedestrians spilled off the sidewalks on to the streets.

With the sun dropping fast and a long to do list for all three vehicles, and with everyone operating on about 4 hours of sleep and barely any lunch, the team finally got its first break and gathered for dinner, where Dario showed up with the cylinder disk plates — made better than the Rally Raid originals. The techs then returned to the bivouac and worked until about 1am. All necessary because the car would have to pass inspection the tomorrow, Friday the 30th of December at 4pm.

Click photos to see full wide versions and navigate through easily:

: Face tell all. Too early. Robb, Tara and Ben wait for our taxi to RV company.

: Not the RV Tara was hoping for!

: RV company HQ just 45 minutes outside of Buenos Aires

: Tara not happy about the accomodations.

: Everyone wishes Robb and team good luck at Dakar

: Multa. Multa. Multa. We’re not the only ones getting Police shakedown

: Scavenger hunt for press credentials. The techs and driver/codriver will do this tomorrow.

: Inside registration tent.

: Dinner with team, Dario gives thumbs up because Robb is happy with newly manufactured cylinders for hydraulic lifts on the Desert Warrior

: Almost finished. Desert Warrior gets a new clutch and adjustments to cylinders.

: Master Tech Bill Young keeps tools in order.

: Robb expresses some tension as another driver, David, discusses particulars and suggestions.

: Test Driving Desert Warrior in the Madness of the Bivouac

: Paul Round of Rally Raid UK, a 14 Dakar Rally Veteran.

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December 28, 2011

Argentina/South America 11:36 PM
It Shouldn't Start This Way

The Dakar Test Weighs Heavy on Darkcyd Team

As I boarded my plane in San Diego, I knew there was a shadow of a doubt that ship carrying the Desert Warrior and the T5 assistance vehicle might not make it on time, factoring the time it takes to clear customs and the team’s need to make its Friday early AM appointment for inspection and scrutineering with the Dakar organization in Mar del Plata, a seaside resort some 4 hours southwest of Buenos Aires. Top that off with the fact that Argentina celebrates holiday from the 24-26th of December. Nothing gets done on holiday.

Failure to get the ship and meet our deadline would mean disqualification from the race and the massive expense, energy and excitement for naught.

When I received word from Robb during my one-hour layover in Dallas that the ship was due to arrive and that the shipping and clearing agent was confident the container and vehicles would be cleared the morning of our arrival.

Our assistant “fixer” a local accountant and friend Cristian, my buddy from Chile, met the entire team at the airport. However, by 10am we had no confirmation that our container cleared customs. At 2pm while running around downtown Buenos Aires, we were still waiting. Everyone could sense the tension in Robb. It seemed every fifteen minutes he’d ask Pablo to call the shipping and clearing agent. No matter the number of calls, by 3:30 we still had no word.

Sometime after 4pm we were told to head to the warehouse where our container would land after clearing customs at the port. Robb, Raff, Bill and Pablo headed to the warehouse while the rest of us waited at the hotel for the arrival of the Desert Warrior and T-5 assistance vehicle.

At 7:20pm the vehicles rolled up to our hotel here in Retiro, one of the more affluent sections of Buenos Aires. Due to the height and length of the T5 Assistance vehicle, a Chevy s500 HD fitted with extra racks, tool boxes and more, we were unable to park in the hotel garage. Thanks to Dario, our other fixer and friend in Buenos Aires, had a back up garage set up just across from the hotel.

As Ben fired up the engine and planned to pull the newly renovated and customized Desert Warrior into the garage, he pushed in the clutch, the pedal just dropped to the floor.
As Ben fired up the engine and planned to pull the newly renovated and customized Desert Warrior into the garage, he pushed in the clutch, the pedal just dropped to the floor. What? He pressed again. Nothing. Raff noticed fluid oozing down the Buenos Aires street. The Desert Warrior sat on the side of the rode like a prized trophy, nothing more. The hydraulic system that activates the clutch, the slave cylinder, it seems blew a seal. Raff shook his head. This wasn’t the first time this happened. As the team prepared the vehicle months ago, it did the same thing. So Raff and team replaced the cylinder and all the seals.

So what happened? Good questions. The better questions is: “Can we fix this, get the car to inspection and be approved to race by Friday morning. It’s Wednesday nearly midnight. It’s our first day in Buenos Aires. We know this is a grueling race. We know that fewer than 35% of those who start ever make it to the finish line. Could we be one of the few that never makes it to the starting line?

For the race to Dakar and the Darkcyd Racing Team, it shouldn’t start this way. We’re in trouble and we haven’t even recovered from our long flights.

Our Fixer in Buenos Aires, Pablo Cariddi grabs the wheel of the Desert Warrior.

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Argentina/South America 11:17 AM
First Day Woes For Darkcyd Racing: Rill Discusses

Darkcyd Owner and Driver Robb Rill discusses problems with the teams entry into the 2012 Edition of the legendayr Dakar Rally Raid Race in South America

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Argentina/South America/USA 08:24 AM
En Route & Arriving In Buenos Aires

12/27/2011 5:48PM: Update From Dallas/Fort Worth Airport

This is just a quick note as I wait to board my plane to Buenos Airew. I heard from Rob and it appears that the shipping company has let us know that customs will have the car cleared in time. But yet this is South America and Argentina we shall know more when we land. I will be connecting with them on the ground and from their reporting back on this blog.

12/28/11 - 8:39AM: Arrived In Buenos Aires — Container Has Cleared Customs.

Another note to keep you updated as to our progress here in South America. The entire Darkcyd Rally Racing Team arrived in Buenos Aires early this morning. After several hours of phone calls to the shipping agent and the port, and running around Buenos Aires securing supplies, cell phones and exchanging enough cash to pay for gasoline (diesel fuel) during the rally, we finally were called to the Port at 5pm Buenos Aires time and Robb, Raff, Bill and our local fixer, Pablo, are at the port retrieving the vehicles.

Soon they’ll bring them into the city where they’ll tweak and adjust the vehicles before heading to Mar del Plata tomorrow morning for a 6:30am start. So far all looks good.

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December 27, 2011

Argentina/South America 06:57 AM
Dakar: The Race Is On For Darkcyd Racing

While most of the country is recovering from the recent holiday, flocking to the malls for returns and sales or simply enjoying the last days of the year with family and loved ones, Robb & Tara Rill and the entire Darkcyd Rally Racing team are busy making final preparations for their flights to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The South American excursion will be the third for the Darkcyd team, but only the first to compete in the legendary Dakar off-road rally race.

While the preparations have been underway for more than six months, and the last three months with busy weekly meetings and conference calls, the race is down to the wire. Tension, apprehension and excitement all can describe the mood hovering over the team. But anxiety is where everyone sits here the day after Christmas 2012.

Where’s The Desert Warrior?

At the end of last month the Desert Warrior, Darkcyd’s entry into The Dakar 2012 edition was delivered to its shipping agent/firm: Bulent in Florida. The cars should’ve arrived in Buenos Aires via ship earlier this month. However, something went wrong on the shipping docks. The Desert Warrior wasn’t loaded on the ship on time. It had to be loaded on a later ship. Anxiety has been high because the shipping company informed the team the ship “should” arrive on the 24th of December.

I don’t know if our ship has arrived… or if our car and assistance vehicle will make it Argentina on time – Allan Karl
This new discovery didn’t bode well for the team. Getting any vehicle in and out of customs in a foreign country is a test of patience, time, logistics and sanity. Top that off with Argentina’s full holiday schedule making the port shut down for the most of the last days of the month. Plus, the Desert Warrior must be in Mar del Plata, several hours southwest of Buenos Aires, by the 29th in order to go through scrutineering and inspection to be qualified to race. If we don’t make our allotted time, we could be turned away at the starting line. And all this preparation and emotion for naught—not to mention the incredible cost and investment the team has expended in getting ready for the race.

As I sit and pen this update, I don’t know if our ship has arrived… or if our car and assistance vehicle will make it Argentina on time. The shipping office is closed. Customs isn’t answering the phone. And locals driving by the port at our request can’t make sense the ships: they all look the same and are very difficult to make out the registration numbers and names. The only way we’ll know, is when we arrive.

Tomorrow is flight day for the six person Darkcyd Racing Team. Robb, Tara, Ben, Raff and Bill will leave from Miami on Tuesday the 27th of Decebmer and arrive in Buenos Aires on Wednesday morning at 7am. Allan will fly from San Diego to Dallas and then switch planes in Dallas and arrive just a couple hours after the rest of the team at 9:15am. We’ve been working closely with an incredible support team on the ground in Buenos Aires, including Darîo Saidman, a photographer Allan met while on his motorcycle in Argentina several years ago. Darîo is procuring supplies and arranging security for the vehicles, while another support person, Pablo Cariddi who has been arranging transportation, talking with the rental car companies and helping with telecommunications logistics.

There’s no question an effort for a private, non sponsored team to compete in Dakar is massive. The coordination and logistics painstakingly detailed. If every tiny issue isn’t handled, checked off the list or attended to, the entire race and success of the team is at stake.

If you’re not currently a subscriber to our blog, please enter your email address in the subscribe box in the upper right column on this page. Each time we post a new update, you’ll get a quick reminder to come back and check in with us. Please comment here on the blog, rather than reply with emails. Internet access will be very tough once the race starts. We are using this blog/website as our communication center.

There will be a way to track the progress of the team and the Desert Warrior with live GPS updates. The Desert Warrior is fitted with a custom Iritrack GPS system that ties in with The Dakar race organizers. This is transmitted to the website so actual vehicle positions can be tracked in near realtime. We will post links to the tracking system once we can get it configured for our team and website.

Stay tuned. We’re hoping our ship has come in.

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December 26, 2011

Argentina/North America/South America/USA 01:23 PM
Doing Dakar: Spectator, Team Member & Media

I had a terrific opportunity to join my friend Robb as he finally pulled the trigger and decide to make his dream come true: to compete and finish the most grueling motorsport raced in the world: Dakar.

Through the support or Robb, The Strategic Group and Darkcyd Racing I will attend the infamous Dakar Rally in South America for nearly three weeks in December 2011 and January 2012. I register as official US-based press/media for the event and this allows me access to areas on course as well as privy to the daily media reports.

While I will cover the race action to some extent on the pages of my worldrider blog, I'm going to bring the perspective of a privateer, a man with a dream, and the grueling work necessary to see that dream to fruition.

This year Dakar runs more than 5,000 miles over about two weeks through Argentina, Chile and Peru. Though some 450 teams will compete in cars, motorcycles, quads and massive trucks, it's likely no more than 200 of them will see their vehicles arrive at the finishing line in Lima Peru. Dakar is about attrition and the course is tough. But perhaps more tough than the course is the toll the race takes on all inolvled. The toll to one's body, spirit, and the relationships between technicians, mechanics, press, officials, friends and more.

This is a race to the finish. And to finish is to win.

So I will try to capture the excitement, the drama, the passion and the pain and the reality of what it takes to compete in a grueling 5,000 mile off-road race through some of the toughest terrain on the planet.

Stay tuned and enjoy the journey.

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September 19, 2011

North America/PodCasts/South America/USA 11:44 AM
Around The World Alone -- On A Bicycle.

Ok. So you know I traveled around the world for three years alone—on a motorcycle. And I really didn't see everything. There are still plenty of places waiting for my visit. Or at least I'd like to think so. Truth is, there are a lot of places I'm waiting to visit. But that's besides the point.

I was in Ethiopia on my motorcycle sometimes in the Spring of 2008. On a desolate stretch of a dusty dirt road between Gondar, Ethiopia and the Sudan border, I ran into to bicyclists from Finland. Though our meeting was short, our time was rich. Sometimes connections are made in seconds, sometimes connections take years to be real. Jukka, then a 30 year old bicyclist with nearly 2 years traveling experience around the world, and I connected. Three years later he finally makes it to the United States and takes me up on my lifelong offer to put him up and share time here in Southern California. In August he and another world-riding Finnish bicyclist planeed to rendezvous in Southern California: here in Encinitas at my cottage by the ocean. Our time was rich again. And we shared stories, photos and great food and conversation. Before these two legends returned to their bicycling journey, I pulled them asisde in my studio for a one-of-a-kind podcast. In this hour-plus long interview I ask the hard questions. And I'm surprised, yet comforted by their answers.

Take the time to listen to Jukka and Lukas discuss traveling, motivation, being away from home and loneliness. I think the insight is inspirational.

Bicycling Around The World: Finnish bikers visit WorldRider: Podcast #22

Visit, listen and subscribe to WorldRider PodCasts on the Apple iTunes Music Store

Check out their websites for further inspiration, too!
Jukka: jukkasalminen.com
Lukas: safebiking.wordpress.com

01:23:10

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July 26, 2011

Africa/Brazil/South America/Tanzania 06:25 PM
Fear.

Last week I was discussing an upcoming speaking engagement with a client when the topic transitioned to my presentation and how I could help my client with my speech to my real-life experiences on the road. The topic quickly folded into a subject that most people I speak with tend to share the same curiosity. They usually want to know if at any point during my travels if I felt that I was in danger or if I was afraid.

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People ask this question for many good reasons. But I think most feel that perhaps they would like to embark on some sort of adventure or travel, but they are afraid to take a chance; to risk their current state of being—their comfort zone. Understandably, their curiosity perhaps stems from wondering whether such fears are founded.

My usual response to these curious queries is, no I never felt in danger or fear for my life in my three years of solo travel on a motorcycle. But as my client probed further for insight into my travel adventures, he asked "What about dangerous roads or terrain, were you ever afraid in that way?"

I scratched my head, took a quick gander out the window and confided to him, that yes, I was afraid on a number of occasions.

To be sure, he knew that I crushed my leg on a muddy road in Bolivia during the trip. He knows that a bus roaring into my lane on a downhill turn on a dirt road in Ethiopia caused me to crash. And he certainly knows that a small taxi van pushed me off the road in Tanzania. But in each of these cases I wasn't afraid. The crashes, for the most part, happened so fast that I had no time to think or react.

Then I started thinking. That's when I recalled some scary episodes while riding at night, tense, white-knuckled and fearful that this night might be the last of my journey, that I might not make it to my destination before crashing—or worse. It's never a good idea to ride at night anyway.

It's funny, many of these episodes involved wet and rain conditions at night.

Like the time I was heading north toward Maceió in northern Brazil. I planned to arrive at this beautiful seaside city before sunset when the rain pelted me and slowed me down. Soaked and cold and with no visibility—no lines on the dark, wet and jet black tarmac. No street lights. And the headlight of my bike barely any use. The rain beaded on my visor and every 30 seconds I had to swipe the water off of it with my soppy wet glove.

As the minutes and hours clicked on, the rain made me wetter and wetter. My visibility so impaired that I had to strain, squint and slow to a crawl just to make sure I didn't ride off the tarmac, because it was so dark and just blended into the landscape. Then I found myself winding through gentle rolling hills lined with sugar cane plantations.

On the road I had to be careful when rounding curves because trucks that carried harvested cane to ethanol processing plants would drop pieces of cane on the road. Like banana peels I'd often catch one— and my rear tire would slip and slide. My heart beat faster. I gripped the handlebars tighter.

These trucks would also appear out of nowhere. Sometimes a truck would seemingly magically appear out of the darkness of the tall sugar cane plants. Most of these trucks were carrying three trailers, each packed with cane. Most of the time only dim headlights shined on the road ahead. Barely visible I had to be careful because the could either hit me or because I couldn't see them in the darkness, I might run into the back of them because the trucks were not fitted with reflectors or tail lights. That night was unforgettable and one of the most tiring rides of my entire three years. I was afraid and scared I might not make it.

Trying to make it to Iringa Tanzania from the border of Tanzania turned out to be another harrowing night. When tarmac becomes wet and the sun fades into night, the pavement fades again into the horizon and trying to see the difference between pavement and vast emptiness of desolate landscapes becomes the most important task of riding. The rain poured and even protected in the confines of my rain suit, I felt trapped and blind. The bright streams of lights from oncoming traffic would detract like a star filter through the drops of rain on my visor creating a massive blind-spot that would haunt me as I rode the twisty track. Drainage on African roads is nonexistent, so I would wade through two and three foot high flooded roads, once amazed at the thousands of frogs who sprayed off the wake of my front tire as I rode through. The sounds of the gurgling frogs actually drowned the noise of falling rain.

I was afraid then, too.

Because my memory was vivid from the time I crushed my leg in a slippery fall on muddy and slippery clay, the muddy dirt roads of South Africa, particularly near the Drakensburg scared me too. Like a slivering snake, to me there is nothing more frightening than lack of traction on wet clay. I can see no difference between it and ice—I think I would rather ride on ice. Mud? Please stay away.

At the beginning of my trip I was still haunted and spooked by the notion of bandits in Mexico. Caught in the dark and still 30 miles from the closest village. tense and stressed, and still unable to see through the dark forests of Michoacán, my heart beat fast every time a car came up from behind.

Even as fear tried to suffocate my spirit and crush my confidence in these incidences, I made it through. And with each incident I became a stronger foe to fear. And while fearlessness is unhealthy, balance and prudence is key; as is your attitude. The compromise you make with fear so that you don't let it get the best of you and in turn, you don't due anything stupid or intentional that could certainly upset your balance between strength and fear.

When it comes time for you to consider traveling, such as I did or to any of the places I traveled? There's no reason to be afraid. There's nothing to fear.

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July 10, 2011

North America/USA 10:24 AM
Live Video of Desert Warrior Rolling at Baja 500

It was just by a quirk of luck or maybe bad luck, that I mounted my Canon S95 inside Darkcyd Racing Team's Desert Warrior before team manager Tara Rill strapped herself in for her inaugural ride in their new desert rally vehicle. But what was supposed to be a quick loop or two around the test track at Estero Beach Campground turned out to be fateful mishap that tested the entire team.

As driver and team owner Robb Rill slid into a 70 or 80 degree turn, one that had been rutted and dug deep on the outside, the outside wheels caught a lip and the new Desert Warrior went into a slow motion roll and landed on the drivers side.

This video captures that crash from the point of view of the driver and co-driver, in this case Robb's wife, partner and team manager Tara. I shot the other footage of the vehicle as it ran around the test track. What you see is surprising if not, in hindsight, a true test of endurance.

Enjoy!

Darkcyd Racing Baja 500 2011 - Rolling Car On Test Track from Allan Karl on Vimeo.

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July 06, 2011

North America/USA 08:37 PM
Summertime is Riding Time

So a few weeks back I finally dusted off Doc and took my venerable F650GS Dakar out for a long deserved cruise. Southern California isn't the most favorable environment to be riding a dual-sport motorcycle—the urban areas, that is. But just a short hour or two ride and you can find great mountain riding, beautiful desert (though better in the winter, spring and fall).

So I rolled Doc out of the garage and chuckled as I looked at the speedometer; there are nearly 75,000 miles on my bike and I'll bet less than 5% are on freeways. Don't get me wrong. Doc gets started up and a quick ride down to the coffee shop or gas station. Sometimes I'll just blast up and down route 1 for a spin by the beach. But that's not riding, is it?

To be sure, we got a good ride in and instead of parking Doc back in the garage, I parked my trusty steed on the side of my cottage. After a few more days I decided it was time to go for another short cruise. This time instead of brushing the dust off my BMW, I had to brush the purple blossoms of the Jacaranda tree that hangs wistfully above. I thought I'd share with you the photo of Doc in peace under that stunning tree. I especially like the way the blossoms create a lavender blanket over the tarmac. Nice.

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June 16, 2011

Mexico/North America 12:51 AM
Retreat, Recovery & Rescue. Baja 500. The Bizarre Outcome.

After scanning the maps and confirming with The Weatherman the Race Mile position last reported for Darkcyd Racing's Desert Warrior, Raff led our convoy west toward Heroes de la Indenpendencia, a tiny village about halfway between Ensenada and San Felipe on Baja California's Route 3. Without an accurate GPS position and useless GPS maps, Raff relied on a detailed map book of Baja California. Tara identified what looked like a road that led in towards Race Mile 25, but without elevation information it was hard to identify the validity of such a road, and assess whether it would be accessible in our vehicles.

While the Buick SUV rental was outfitted with 4-wheel drive its ground clearance was meager, to say the least. Raff's pickup also was fitted with four-wheel drive, and had more ground clearance. Problem was, we had 9 total passengers. If we were to pull Robb and Ben out of the desert, we would have eleven. Raff's truck could carry six passengers. Our crew not including Tara or me numbered five. Tara wasn't about to stand back and wait. She'd be a nervous wreck. I was the only team member who could speak spanish, so I was essential to the extraction crew in order to communicate and locate the car and drivers.

Raff tries to explain to Tara anything and everything. But where's the road in to Robb & Ben?

Things were complicated. We soon found ourselves driving up and down Route 3 going west, then east and then west searching for an elusive road and a "town" that Tara saw on the map. The sun was making its descent. And tensions were flaring. A cloud of uncertainty weighed heavy on the team. We knew Robb and Ben were stuck somewhere in the desert, we were burdened with finding out where. Though Raff had been to Baja races several times before, he was bewildered too. In my gut, I knew we had to find someone who'd crewed or raced this course many times before. We needed to talk to someone. Yet we seemed bent on chasing an elusive road.

From Robb's Journal:
We were dazed, confused and stunned. With the Desert Warrior smashed and resting hopelessly in a massive bush, we assessed the situation. Ben thought we had good fortune because his calculations indicated there was a SCORE Baja 500 hard-checkpoint about a mile from our crash site. These checkpoints are set up to ensure that each vehicle stays on course. Not that anyone would “cheat” on a race like this, but failure to check-in at these hard checkpoints would mean disqualification from the race. We figured we’d walk the mile to the checkpoint and call for help from there. Our radio had stopped working and we reasoned something happened to it in the crash. We figured best case we’d be rescued in five hours or less. Ben volunteered to walk the mile while I stayed with the car and protect it from wandering banditos with sticky hands. We’d both read the stories of these banditos robbing stranded racers and were told of racers being kidnapped and held for ransom.  

It’s no wonder the locals see the stranded vehicles as an opportunity. The average wage here in Baja is $600 monthly while some of the vehicles racing cost nearly $500,000. Other locals take a different approach to finding opportunity during Baja Races. I encountered some shortly after Ben departed for the check point. I flagged down a group of Mexicans driving a Jeep Cherokee. These enterprising locals monitor the toughest part of the course and help anyone stuck or in trouble. The offered to pull pull the Desert Warrior out of the bushes, but because of the weight of the vehicle and the soft terrain, the Jeep lacked the pulling power to move it. Though I thought it was futile to try, I was shocked when the Desert Warrior fired up after turned the ignition. Wow! I locked the differentials and pulled out of the bushes while tearing off the remainder of the quarter panel. Unfortunately, the hood (note: very expensive hood) took its toll during the crash, so I asked the locals if they’d carry it and follow me to the check point.

Taking care with the Desert Warrior, I slowly crawled toward the check point. After about a mile, I caught up with Ben who had encountered a a stack of cars stuck in Baja’s infamous silt beds — a nasty stretch of talcum-like powder, each grain weighting about a tenth of a grain of sand. Here there seemed to be about 100,000 pounds of silt stretched nearly to the horizon. Driving into the silt is like rolling into quicksand. Cars simply sink and without enough inertia, possibly disappear for good. Ben was adhering to the Baja code of ethics and was trying to push one poor soul out of the stilt. Surprised that the Desert Warrior is alive and kicking he asks me to try to push a massive F-150 pro-truck out. Though my gut tells me that this isn’t a good idea due to damage sustained in the crash, I give it a whirl. Just then the clutch gives way and blows. Damn. Now we’re stuck, too.

At that point, my new local Mexican friends realize I’m stuck again and decide that they’d rather keep my hood (replacment value: $3,000) than accept any cash that I’m going to pay them. So they drive off leaving us stranded in the silt with all the other vehicles. I find this funny, because the Desert Warrior is the only vehicle that could’ve ridden through the silt without getting stock. If the clutch hadn’t blown we might’ve been able to get closer to an accessible location. Instead we pull out shovels and the Desert Warrior’s sand slats, large rubber matsthat provide need traction in sand and silt, to help get the other guys out of the silt.

While doing my duty as a Baja participant, I cannot hide my frustration from not having a satellite phone. It was on our procurement check list and therefore should have been in the car. But chaos and confusion combined with some degree of planning snafus, we had no way to contact the outside world. One of our competitors who we pushed out of the silt agrees to send a message to our team and let’s us use his radio to relay our status to The Weatherman. Unfortunately, The Weatherman has his hands full and is busy coordinating air support for a motorcyclist who was critically injured on El Diablo. By the time I get through to him, he is annoyed and angry with me for not following proper protocol. I’m trying to give him phone numbers, but all he relays back is the wrong car number: 321 instead of 221. After the static clears and we’re finally communicating he apologizes and confirms the correct car number while promising that the information will get to my team.

At that point two more groups of enterprising local Mexicans seemingly appear out of thin air. They agree to give me a lift to the next remote Baja Pits location about 20 miles away. I figured that more support would be available there rather than the remote check point. Happy to make perhaps the best “ransom” of the race, I join Luís and his compañeros, including fellow bandito Gambino, in their Jeep Cherokee. Luis explains that they made an 8 hour trip the night before so they could come watch the race and help anyone stuck or needing help.
Perhaps I spent too much time in Miami, but I found this hard to believe. But it’s true. They give me water, food and even a Milky Way bar while we make the grueling 20 mile journey to Baja Pits. Along the way, we have to stop several times because Luis’s friend, also in a Jeep and following us, has problems with his transmission. We reconnect the transmission line and continue on our way. The fourth time we pull over
I realize the Luís has lost his muffler, requiring furhter repairs. I am amazed what these locals can do with little or no tools and how resourceful they are. To think they simply come to watch the race and look to help drivers and teams is also mind-boggling. But they want to feel part of the action. Live the dream and experience Baja off-road racing. It takes us two hours to get to Baja Pits at Race Mile 140. I believe my luck has finally changed. I’m rescued and finally free.

Feeling comfortable and happy now that I’m at Baja pits I figure my problems are over and I’I think my problems are over and I will simply radio for help, and they will send someone to pick up the car and Ben and we’ll simply need to wait 4-5 hours for our crew to pick us up.

We were still following Raff and now had passed pit stops for other racers several times. Why won't he stop, I wondered. We need to talk to someone. Finally he pulls into a parking lot in front of little market and tiny restaurant. There are trailers, racers and locals. While I go to talk to the locals, Tara chats with the racers. We learn that the racers are part of a motorcycle team. Their rider had a crash on El Diablo and was seriously injured and had to be Medivac'd to a hospital in San Diego. "Don't even think of it," one of the racers told Tara. You'll never get in. And you'll probably never get out. Reality was setting in. I could see the pain in Tara's face. Desperation. Raff and the others were lost for words.

With the sun setting, Heroes de la Indenpendencia Turned Us Around.

Gary was mesmerized by the glow on the mountains, and in the distance, the nasty and naughty El Diablo.

Just then Tara's phone rings. Amazing. It's Robb. He's made it to one of the Baja Pits and asks us to retrieve him. The phone connection drops several times before Tara starts talking to some guy Chileco. She's speaking so loud in the small restaurant everyone in there and the market can hear her. Frustrated due the dropped connections. She paces frantically. "It's a blocked number," she screams. "Why is it blocked!"

Finally the phone rings again and she's now talking to Chileco who gives her directions to the Baja Pits. We're several hours away he tells her. The sun is setting. She noodles out some directions on a paper, but gets cut off again. She wanted to speak to Robb one more time.

I meet Chileco who thankfully lets me use his satellite phone and I’m amazed to connect with my wife, Tara, on the first ring. She explains that the team is having difficulty trying to find us and a way to extract us. I learn she is still 100 miles on the other side of El Diablo and can’t find any road that will get her near us. I ask Luis to explain the options since he knows how to get into this god forsaken place. He looks at me sideways and agrees in theory that guiding Tara and the team in here is technically possible, but since we were losing daylight it would be close to impossible for anyone unfamiliar with the terrain and the desert to get here timely and safely. He agrees to try and explains that the team must drive completely around the mountain, some 200 miles or so, feasible but improbable.

At that point, I realized that whether or not Tara and the team could get here, I had to get back to Ben and the Desert Warrior. I knew it took us two hours to get here, so I figured it would be four hours round trip to fetch Ben and return—ideally with the Desert Warrior in tow.

I proposed the idea to Luîs. A huge request, a favor. He looked at me with a deer in headlights kind of stare. Up to this point, he’d already gone out of his way to help me, but this was asking too much. About that time a large red faced American sporting a grin that was enhanced, I figured, by the daylong consumption of many beers or alcoholic beverages, walked up to me and said he knew a guy who knew a guy that could possibly help me get Ben and the Desert Warrior to Baja Pits. His t-shirt, dirty and dusty from the day of racing, said “Los Locos Mocos”, and his demeanor, loud and slurred, sounded to me like a setup.

Tara explains to Raff the plan. We'll ride Route 3 until it ends at Route 5, just north of San Felipe. From there we'll head north until we find the second of two dirt roads some 50 miles from the intersection. We bid the bikers farewell and send good vibes to their buddy in the hospital and begin our search for Robb and Ben. Though we don't know it at the time, the sun dips behind El Diablo and adjacent mountains. Now we're traveling by twilight and losing light fast. I wondered if we'd ever find them out there.

As I'm blasting east Tara's phone rings, so I pull over hoping to preserve the location and signal. But she gets cut off, so I take off again. The phone rings again, so we pull off and Tara now is in deep conversation. "Are you sure?," she says with a quiver in her voice. "Is that what you want?" Next she's explaining yet another reality. Raff and the entire crew save Allan have flights leaving San Diego early the next afternoon. "You don't understand," Tara is explaining. I won't have anyone to help us tomorrow. We must do this tonight." She's talking to someone named Stuart. "Thank you Stuart, thank you. We'll be there."

She explains that Stuart warned us from trying to rescue Robb and Ben. He guaranteed that we'd get lost and stuck. He advised us to meet them the following morning at 11am with a trailer. He said there'd be plenty of help getting the Desert Warrior loaded onto the trailer. This meant that I'd be driving Raff's massive pick-up and towing an equally massive trailer over these winding and twisting roads.

We sped up the road hoping to find Raff pulled over and waiting for us so we could explain the plan, turn around and head back to our hotel and camp in Ensendada. With each bend of the road we looked for a truck pulled over. Nothing. Tara was worried Raff might try to go into the desert without us. Gary thought he'd wait and ultimately figure it out and head back to look for us. But we motored on. All I could think about was backtracking on this road for about the fifth time today—but now in the dark. It was nearly 45 minutes when we finally found Raff pulled over at yet another Baja Pits location.

"I've got the directions!" he yelled showing the most emotion since hearing about the crash. He quickly sobered up when Tara explained the plan. At this point Raff was concerned about his trailer. "Have you ever towed a trailer?" he asked me. He explained how easy it would be to cook the brakes. I told him we'd be meeting Robb from the North and traveling a different road. He was concerned. To make the flight in the next day, the crew would need to leave Ensenada first think in the morning. There'd be no way any of them could help get Robb or drive the truck. Changing flights would cost a fortune. There were no other options. I'd have to drive the truck to meet Ben and Robb. Ben would drive the truck to Florida and Tara, Robb and I would return to San Diego as their flight departed the following day—a much better buffer after a grueling off road race.

I asked Luîs again and told him he’d earn $500 if he helped. Luîs talked in incredibly rapid spanish to his friends. And though he didn’t say no, something in the tone of their communications indicated they might counter me with a higher offer. But nothing. He is balking at the idea of going back into the desert — and at the $500. At this point I feel I must appeal to his conscience. “Luis, my wife, my wife,” I explained. “My wife is freaking out I must get Ben and my car and get to my wife to show her I’m alright.” All this was true, but I really just wanted out of this desert wasteland. Luís avoided eye contact and just mumbled while his friend tried to repair their transmission line. So I upped the offer. “Luís, I’ll give you $1,000 dollars.” I figured this would be a significant amount of money to an educated Mexican whose salary was perhaps $1,000 or $2,000 per month. Would he turn down $1,000 for a four hour extraction?

“Lo siento, Robb,” he said with a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry. But I need to stick with my friends who are desperate to get out of here.” Boy did I understand that. I asked him if he’d just take some time and think about it a little more. I spotted the buzzed American who “knows this guy, that knows this guy.” Comfortable and happy in his drunken glow, Stu finally reveals that HE is THE GUY, chuckling at his own sarcasm. He’s confident and relaxed about making the adventure to retrieve Ben and the Desert Warrior. Yet he’s aloof and not providing much more detail. Stu neither asks nor quotes a fee for such the task. I’m feeling hopeless at this point and running out of options.

Stuart shows me a map and says he can get Ben and bring the Desert Warrior back to Baja Pits. But then he gave me a dose of sober reality: it would be impossible to out of the desert at night. And the safest way to get the Desert Warrior to pavement would be across a dry lake bed which meant going a lot further than the race route, but it would safer and easier. And we could tow the Desert Warrior within just feet of pavement; Baja California Route 1 just west of Mexicali.

He explained that trying to tow it through the upcoming silt beds on the race route would be impossible. Then I remembered Chileco giving directions to Tara and knew she was on the way with the team. Stuart laughed when I told them they were on the way to get me—going against the race route and ultimately through the silt beds. He patted me on the back and with his red-faced grin just shook his head.

“They’ll never find us, Robb,” he said. “And they’ll get stuck,” I gulped and worried. “Who’s going to extract them, Robb, if that happens?”

Worrying there’d be two of us stuck in the desert , I desperately tried to connect with Tara on her mobile. Each time I tried, her phone went directly to voice mail. She was out of cell range. After fifteen minutes of frantic attempts, I finally connected and told her not to come. I gave Stuart the phone and he explained to Tara in no uncertain terms that any attempt by the team to come extract us was the equivalent of suicide. They’d certainly get stuck in the desert, and unless they had plenty of water, they’d be doomed.

Despite Tara’s pleas otherwise, I insisted that we would meet the following morning at the other side of the dry lake bed—at a mid point for both them and us—through only 60 miles of dirt and dust. I knew by the tone in Tara’s voice that she was worried. But this was the best course of action. Though he was clearly extremely buzzed by the booze, I trusted Stu because he’s been coming to this race for years and seemed to know better than anyone I’d met, just how to get out of here alive. So with that out of the way it was time to rescue Ben.

I finally handed the driving over to Gary and proceed to drive the more than two-hour jaunt back to Ensenada. The trip took even longer due to the slow moving cargo trucks on the twisting hair-pin turns. Before I dropped Tara at her hotel I asked her to call Robb or Stuart and see if we'd be able to tow The Desert Warrior with a tow bar and that way I'd be saved from pulling the heavy massive trailer over these gnarly roads.

There was no way. When he heard Raff was heading out early in the morning and wouldn't be there to tend to the Desert Warrior he was unsettled. "Tell Raff to change his flight," Robb insisted. "Only Raff. And let him drive the truck and trailer." Phew. It was settled. I'd drive the Buick and Raff would follow in the pick-up with the trailer. The entire crew would leave together and we'd bid farewell in Tecate, as I suggested this border would be much easier and faster to cross than Tijuana. We agreed to meet first thing in the morning at Tara's hotel.

Tara explained she felt weird. She couldn't remember ever traveling with Robb and spending a night in a hotel alone. She wasn't scared. But she said it was weird. She was worried about Robb.

Before leaving Chileco pulled me aside and tried to warn me. He said he didn’t know Stu very well, explaining that I must be careful about going off into the desert with strangers. “He’s been drinking, Robb, a lot,” he cautioned. But I had no other option. I thanked him for his concern and jumped into the Dodge Dually with Stu and we went off toward the Dodge dually that was going to bring my co driver and the Desert Warrior home. Stuart enlisted the support of his friend Bethel, an older gentleman with a calm sense and demeanor. Stuart wasted no time drumming up conversation. Feeling like he’d been put down by a high-school football coach, Stuart was disappointed that Chileco had pulled him aside and questioned his ability and warning of the danger in the desert night, advising that there was a good chance we’d get stuck, too. Plus, Chileco had called Stu on his drinking. I admitted I was concerned too.

“Do you have Jesus in your life, Robb?” asked Stu. The question came out of nowhere. I felt things going south, and while I know that certaintopics of conversation are best set aside, I couldn’t lie. “No, Stuart, he isn’t.”

That’s when Stuart started throwing epithets of judgement at me, questioning my lifestyle choices of not drinking nor eating meat. He hypothesized that I was an atheist, like he was for thirty years until he found Jesus, who Stuart said, “saw the error of his ways.” I wondered why drinking didn’t fall under that umbrella. I imagined that perhaps the entire group back at the Baja Pits were very religious. And that’s fine. But I’m offended when it’s preached and attempts to convert me are overt and in my face. I am not buying what they’re selling. But he kept selling, explaining that Jesus WAS in my life and I just didn’t realize it. I wondered if this was a reference to the the fact he was helping me and this is the Lord’s miracle.

Under a flood of bright stars against a deep black sky, we drove along doing our best to follow the course. It wasn’t easy to see to distinguish what was the course and which were just random sandy tracks. It was clear that Stu’s advice about warding off the Tara and the crew from attempting to attempting me prudent and spot on.

We lost our way following wrong tracks requiring us to backtrack. I sensed frustration as he questioned me where Ben and the Desert Warrior were to be found. “Race Mile 125,” I said referring to the tracking system installed in the car. After about two hours his frustration was building. When I suggested that he didn’t have all the race files downloaded to his GPS, he snapped back and angrily referred to me as a used car salesman and suggested I was misleading him. I didn’t understand his point but then we finally found Race Mile 125 there was no sign of Ben nor the Desert Warrior. Stuart was fuming. I thought he was going to flip.

He accused me of lying in order to get his help and being “part of the con artist club.” At this point he realized that we were at 2,000 feet and climbing in elevation. He believed that Ben and my car were crashed on El Diablo—a location much further away and virtually impossible to recover a vehicle from. I assured Stuart I knew the deference between a large mountain and silt beds, and I was not lying or trying to con him.

He thought I was lying and I felt he was about to throw me out the car. I told him the story. I crashed at Race Mile 122 and then drove the car to some silt where the clutch failed when trying to push a truck. I told him I couldn’t have driven much more than a couple miles from the crash, but the tracking system clearly had me at Race Mile 125. He didn’t believe me and was seconds from slamming on the brakes when he spotted a campfire and what for a second seemed like an alien, but was simply Ben wandering about the wrecked car in his boxer shorts. Both directly in front of us.

Back at my hotel I download photos, scribbled notes about the day's events and wondered what Robb and Ben we're doing. Thinking how beautiful the desert is at night under a star-filled sky. It's something they'll never forget and will bond them together forever. Little did I know what they were in for!

I sensed relief and jubilation in Ben’s face as we attached a tow rope and began pulling the Desert Warrior back to Baja Pits. Sluggish but pulling steady, Stuart felt it was too heavy and that something wrong. He was sure that we were dragging because the differential lock was engaged. Twice we stopped to confirm that it wasn’t. The reality was we were dragging a 5,000lb vehicle through the nasty silt beds.

Stuart asked us to check the tire pressure and when he learned we running 40psi he beligerantly asked us “What kind of idiot runs 40psi through silt beds?” He was right. We dropped down the Desert Warrior to 28psi for more traction. If things couldn’t get worse, as we started gaining momentum a wheel flew off the Desert Warrior. At first it looked like we lost the whole left rear control arm. If that happened, I would end up surrendering the Warrior to the desert as there would be no way to pull it out. Luckily, the silt was so deep that when the wheel feel off the control arm just sunk in the sand even though we dragged it for several hundred feet. When we tried to fit one of the Warrior three spare tires, we realized there were no spare lug nuts. WE took one off each of the other wheels and found two others loose in the tool fox.

Stuart spent the next hour babbling and ridiculing me about spending too much money on the wrong race truck for Baja, suggesting I was a victim of marketing and having a “large pocketbook.” Relieved when we finally arrived at camp—and I’m using that term very loosely—but I had an awkward feeling that Stuart wouldn’t keep his promise and get us across the lake bed in the morning.

Ben performing duites well beyond the scope of a normal co-driver. Then again, this is Baja. Anything goes.

Though I didn’t think it was possible, here I meet Phil, another of Stuart’s posse was even more combatant than Stu. He turns to Stu, points to Ben and sarcastically asks “How much am I supposed to feed this fat fuck?” There are times I might have rushed him for that, but I realized that would do nothing to help us get out of here. When he realized Ben was my teammate, he walked back to his side of camp with his tail between his legs.

As a peace offering and an effort to bury the hatchet, he offered Ben and I Tequilia, when we declined the offer he tried to push it on us. To be sure, he seemed like he’d been drinking all day and night probably consuming enough for an entire platoon. I I politely told him to phuck off. Ben acquiesced with one shot just to get him off his back. I reached Tara again via the satellite phone. She told me she could tell something was wrong, but I assured her I was fine, even though I felt Ben and I were stuck in the middle of nowhere and two banjos away from Deliverance. No point in worrying her.

We met at Tara's hotel 7:30 am Sunday morning and began the convoy to Tecate over Baja Route 3. The events of the weekend flashed through our memories and while the crew looked tired and disappointed, we were happy that the end was in sight. I was happy Raff was driving his truck, as the bed in his pick up was filled with two motorcycles a quad and piles of other gear.

Still stewing about me allegedly misleading him, Stu kindly offered his car for Ben and I to sleep in overnight. We took him up on the offer and all I could think was to bite my tongue until we got out of here. The next morning about 6:30AM I loaded the loose parts from the Desert Warrior into Stu's truck after they loaded up their gear. After surveying the Warrior in daylight, I realized the situation was not pretty, it was going to take quite a bit of work to get it back into shape.

While people were packing up camp, I asked Stu what I could do to help get ready for the ride across the dry lake bed. He told me to siphon about 10 gallons of diesel fuel out of the Warrior and into his Dodge. Now while I was happy to pay him for the gas, this seemed excessive but I gladly obliged. However, siphoning gas from the Desert Warrior was harder than I thought. You see it was difficult to get the siphon hose because the gas tank had a foam barrier in the fill spout to protect the fuel supply from foreign elements, so sand, dirt and the like wouldn’t enter the engine or block the fuel filter. As I sucked on the end of the hose to start the flow, I just had to remind myself this was going to get me out of here. After filling the fuel can I returned it to Stu explaining I’d finished the job. He then proceeded in his obstinate way to give me a math quiz. This was his passive aggressive manner of communicating that I needed to fill the 5 gallon can twice to make 10 gallons. I smiled and went back to start the distasteful process all over again.

We connected a tow strap to the vehicles and before taking off I decided to wear my helmet and the five-point racing harness, figuring Stu would reach speeds in excess of 60mph while pulling us across the dry lake and I figured the probability of rolling was high.

As we raced across the lake the loose parts of the Desert Warrior bounced and flew up, I was worried they might fly out of the back of Stu’s truck. Then I worried that if we flipped, Stu would drag us behind his truck and ultimately just cut the strap and leave us. But Stu stopped not once but twice, first in a thoughtful gesture, he gave us respiratory masks because of the silt we’d inhale, and a the second time to offer to charge my iphone so I could call Tara when we got close to cell signal.
Was this the same guy who gave me the math quiz less than an hour earlier? The guy who accused me of lying and misleading him. It was bizarre. This Jesus loving , alcoholic with a manic temper went out of his way to make sure we wouldn’t breathe in dangerous silt and charge my iPhone so I could communicate with Tara. Yet he tower us in the Desert Warrior at near race speed risking another crash. I could not explain the dichotomy. When we hit the dry lake bed we know we’d be free in thirty minutes or less. I texted Tara the good news and hinted at our crazy experience in the night. When we arrived finally arrived to Route 1 just west of Mexicali, the capital of Baja, I didn’t care if Stu cut the strap and left us. We were close enough to civilization. But Stu kept his word and waited with us until Tara, Raff and Allan arrived. But Paul couldn’t keep quiet, constantly compaining about waiting and insisting on calling me Jerry, because I was with Ben.

Thanks for the masks, Stuart!

Stuart found plenty of things wrong with The Desert Warrior. But he was never absent of his beer and cigarette.

All we asked for was a little slack. But 60mph plus without power? Maybe we were asking for too much?

You want me to do what? Tequila? Okay. Twist my arm. But only once.

Route 3 turned out to be somewhat better going north than it did in the other direction five times the day and night before. But then we climbed a high pass, very scenic and offering incredible vistas to the desert below. It was just a little after 11am when we pulled up to find Robb, Ben and the Desert Warrior waiting patiently with Stuart and his posse from Locos Mocos.

I kept thinking that there was no ways these guys could have met in a church. I was sure it must have been the “Loony Bin”, and that’s why they call themselves the “Locos Mocos”, spanish for “Crazy Boogers!”

It was at that point Tara, Raff and Allan pulled up with our trailer. High fives, introductions and joy. Ironically, Stu ran up to my wife and gave her a big hug, as if she rescued him. Everything was surreal and bizarre. But I didn’t care. They helped load our crashed Desert Warrior into the trailer, I gave Stu a small stack of hundreds that he never even asked for, and closed that chapter of our Baja 500 adventure.

We then met up the road for tacos on me, and returned to San Diego and a little slice of Americana. Back to the real world vs. bizzaro land I lived in during the last three days!

Reunited finally after a Bizarro experience in the night somewhere in the middle of the Baja desert.

Legendary Locos Mocos from Mexicali, and on the right, Phil was never without his beer, nor his attitude.

Robb fixes things for the ultimate ending of seeing the Desert Warrior pushed into the trailer.

Tacos for everyone and anyone. The ordeal comes to an end.

Stuart . Stuart. Stuart.

Ben looks with wanton at the accompaniments to the great tacos found in the middle of nowhere.

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