That would be me in the orange shirt about a foot away from being swallowed by a cloud of silt. And believe me, I have the video footage to prove it.
I've been putting off writing the Vegas to Reno recap blog for two big reasons. 1) I feel like nothing I say can do such an incredible race justice, and 2) I know once I start typing, I'm going to wind up creating my longest blog post yet. But it's better to write too much than nothing at all and keep looking like a lazy bum.
Scoutmaster Ron Harrell (dad) and I flew into Vegas on Tuesday the 19th, but the Vegas to Reno experience didn't begin until contingency day on Thursday (hey, who goes to Vegas without planning an extra day or two to have fun). The South Point lot was packed with haulers, chase trucks, tow rigs, and race vehicles in every direction. The first familiar face I saw was Kent Kroeker. We had met up back in March at Off Road Impact. Fortunately he recognized me and we immediately began talking about the Ranger. I told him of our plan to find a stock class truck to chase with during the race. He offered us the chance to chase with KORE. We opted to take him up on the offer. We now had our Friday morning planned. A few minutes later we met up with Curt LeDuc by contingency and we had a long chat about what to expect over the coming 48 hours. Curt, for those who never met him, is awesome and is always willing to share his years of expertise and knowledge. He informed me of the driver's meeting later that day, which was to be open to the public. Certainly a helpful bit of information. If I had missed that driver's meeting, I would have been lost on Friday.
After splitting up with Curt I walked the line of cars still waiting to go through inspection, then took a lap around South Point, taking a look at all the teams. After making my lap, I went inside the casino to head up to registration. It was later in the day and the registration line had shortened itself, but it still stretched itself just about to the door. I met Casey Folks and Don Fall, both of whom I had talked to on the phone but never had the opportunity to talk to in person prior to that day. I suspect they, much like me, were disappointed the troop and the truck weren't in the race, but glad members of 35 were at the race.
The driver's meeting was more or less what you would expect from a driver's meeting. Reminders about markers, IRC tracking devices, the BLM, and so on. The big pieces of information that was very helpful to me was learning the speed limits for support vehicles entering and exiting pit areas (15 mph) and the speed limit of race vehicles going through pit areas (that would be none). Casey emphasized the importance of remembering race vehicles have no speed limit in the pits, suggesting that people make sure their pets are on a leash and their children are locked in the car.
I went to bed Thursday night knowing I had an early morning ahead of me. I had to be up by 4 so I could drop a friend off at the airport at 5, return to the hotel by 6, and meet up with Kent and the KORE army by 7. The good news was that my body was still in Eastern time, which meant it thought I was getting up at 7. The bad news was I probably fell asleep around 1. Or, to my body, 4.
We ended up getting to South Point about fifteen minutes late. Fortunately that worked for Kent and we got there just as his convoy was pulling out. And when I say convoy, I mean convoy. There were about ten trucks in the KORE parade, from Rams, to Tureags, to one Yaris which looked even more out of place than our rental Subaru. The caravan rolled into a gas station, which brought a few looks from curious patrons, then it was on to the starting line in Beatty, two and a half hours north.
Nevada is interesting. It's like someone drew a line in the sand and said "this side is Las Vegas, that side is desert. Neither is allowed to cross that line." I say this, because as you drive along US-95 out of north LV, the buildings and civilization doesn't peter out. It just plain stops. Once you cross that line, it's no buildings, no people, no animals. The trend, of course, is broken every fifty miles or so by Nellis and the occasional gas station. But beyond that it's exactly what you imagine a desert to be. Which is why we were shocked to pass a man, probably forty miles from the nearest building, pushing a shopping cart along the side of the road. That level of determination astounded me and, as dad put it, if we weren't in a hurry and had a weapon of some kind just in case, we would have stopped.
Of course there was no stopping until Beatty. We were already running late. We finally arrived somewhere around 10:00, half an hour after the trucks were supposed to start staging, and half an hour before the first truck was scheduled to leave the starting line. My first thoughts upon arriving at the staging area was something like "ohmydearsweetgodthisthingisHUGE!" It was just acre after acre of race vehicle. It took ten minutes just to drive far enough into the staging area to find a place to park. South Point had been big, but it had noting on this. There were literally thousands of cars and trucks in the staging area, waiting for the race to start.
The KORE army knew what they were doing. They had the truck unloaded, Kent and his codriver strapped in, everything double and triple checked, and the truck in the staging line in what seemed like no time at all. While they did this, I decided to wander around, which is how I came across Rod Hall. For those who don't know the name, Rod is what one calls a "champion of champions." At seventy years old you can still look in his eyes and see the fiery passion of someone half his age. He's a racer through and through and anyone who doesn't think he lives for this does not know Rod Hall. Rod is the only man to have run all 40 Baja 1000 races in a truck. Of those 40, he scored a class win in 19. Yes. I was starstruck in the middle of the desert.
Rod was not the snobbish "I'm better than you/I don't have time for you" kind of guy some racers get to be (particularly a few asphalt circle track racers I've met while working at Stafford). He was very interested in what Venture Crew 35 was doing and he thought it was a great project. He then went on to tell me about why he prefers racing stock vehicles when he could just as easily go unlimited (he feels it challenges him more as a driver). It wasn't until a member of his crew came over and told him he needed to get ready that he broke of the conversation. Though not without leaving me with a pearl of wisdom or two about getting old. I really ought to call him.
At 10:30 on the dot the first trophy truck left the line. Kent, being part of class 8100, would be one of the last trucks to start the race. This gave the KORE army a chance to finalize who would be on which support team and who would have what duty when Kent slid that Ram into the pits. As we sat and waited, support trucks began making their way out of the staging area, coinciding with their respective race trucks leaving the starting line. Much like water in a funnel, trucks slowly progressed out of the lot and onto US-95 headed for the first pit.
Finally, a little before noon, it was time for the KORE army to stage. We lined up all the chase vehicles at the edge of US-95, waiting to hear the call on our radios. Time slowed almost to a stop. We knew an unbelievable adventure was about to begin. As soon as we heard the words.
(Note. The second half of the story is in part 2 of the recap. Because this post is long enough already.)
The Red Bull gate at the exit of the contingency inspection area.
BJ Baldwin's trophy truck in the South Point valet parking line. Perfect photo op.
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