It's always exciting to be presented with a fresh lineup of new bikes first thing in the morning. Our group only had five riders (and two guides), but Scot will accept up to 10 for the Supercross Tours.
By 7:30 a.m. I was standing in front of a line of fresh bikes, none of them showing many signs of being ridden. I knew that the EXCs were going to be awesome machines so I wasn't too concerned with which displacement I wound up on. My decision was ultimately based on a set of available bar risers which I tend to find more comfortable. One of the 450s was set up for taller riders so I snagged the street-legal pumpkin and gave it the once-over for bar and lever placement. Legal papers were signed and a list of emergency contacts handed out and then it was time to get familiar with our new steeds.
A couple minutes of warm up and the crew was ripping around the soft dirt, trying our damndest to make a good impression with Professor Harden. Once we were finished laying down laps, we regrouped and assigned our groups. Since there were only five of us the groups would be small no matter what. Myself and our representative from the Netherlands, Stijn, were selected to ride with Scot as the A group. A couple others were invited to test the waters if they wished, and Steve, one of two Canadian riders later did, but everyone wanted to start things off in ordinance with Scot's most important rules for every tour: Be safe and have fun.
With the formalities finally over we took to the road for a short time until we reached the outskirts of town. Shortly after leaving the city Scot halted our group and waited for the last rider, Brent, to catch up. From there we would split into our designated groups with the A trio stepping directly into a rocky single-track while the B group continued up the pavement to another junction that was less technical. This would be my first opportunity to see where I stacked up with Scot and Stijn. Basically I didn't. Fortunately, I was able to hold my own without completely boring the faster duo since there were enough splits in the trail to keep us fairly close. They would stop and wait for a minute as I caught up and then continue on to the next juncture. Our system allowed us to keep a pace that was satisfactory for everyone.
Day 1 took us through rocky terrain that was riddled with abandoned mine shafts like this one. Just about every time we stopped to look at something Scot would have some kind of interesting trivia to go along with it.
This particular section was some of the most technical terrain we would encounter, and while there wasn't anything that stopped me in my tracks it was definitely difficult in some areas. Stijn's heavily accented comments about the terrain were always released from behind a large grin, so even more talented riders were satisfied. As the trip wore on over the next couple days, Scot and Stijn learned that they could twist a little harder and like a stray dog I would always show up sooner or later.
Day 1 was easily the most physically taxing for the A riders, and I was glad that KTM had decided to use the street-legal EXC models rather than the 640 Adventure machines which were used until 2007. As Scot described it, the bulky machines were simply too much for most riders. By the time our tour would end two days later I was convinced that there isn't a better bike for the job than the 450/530 replacements. This is exactly what KTM envisioned when it took the monumental step of making the EXC line street legal in America.
Our path would intersect with the B group on several occasions which allowed the father/son team to keep tabs on any potential problems, of which there were none. Breaking for lunch revealed a waiting support truck with Justin Maley at the helm. The likeable Australian had already set up a table, tools, hydraulic bike stand and a line of orange cones that made lining up our bikes for assembly line maintenance stupidly simple. If not before it was apparent then to everyone involved that these guys know what they are doing. A check of fluid levels, splash of fuel and chain adjustment and lubing was about all that any machine required - and the brief checklist was completed at every opportunity, usually three times per day for each bike. We were broken into our respective groups for the remainder of the day and though we kept moving in order to arrive at the Palm Canyon Resort on time, Scot stopped at many different areas for photo opportunities and to inject a little history to go with the terrain.
As part of the "A" group, one of my primary tasks was to keep up with Stijn (left) and Scot. Considering the amount of desert experience these two have it was no small feat. Thankfully they allowed me to tag along.
Once we arrived at the resort in Borrego Springs it was definitely time for a cold beverage and some rest. Maley had again leap-frogged us to the destination and was ready with several coolers of liquid refreshments and snacks. The general atmosphere was one of complete satisfaction about the day's adventure from both the riders and the guides. Jeff, our other Canadian, and least experienced off-road pilot of the group was plenty happy with his performance and Brent's ability to offer a few pointers. Little did he know we would all need them for the following day. We all stripped down to our undies or swim trunks and commandeered the hot tub for awhile to help soak away the effects of over 120 miles. After that it was dinner, a nightcap and off to bed.
Palm Canyon was to be our home base for another day and night so our adventures on Day 2 led us in a 138-mile loop to the east. It was here that I found myself in the predicament from the opening paragraph. Our route had us aimed across a slew of terrain that mirrors much of what Stijn and Scot claim to have encountered in Dakar. I spent the day trying to keep their dust trails in sight and learning how to go faster in the sand every step of the way.
Though it started out a bit rocky, easing into the Anza Borrego Desert State Park showed that the larger stones soon gave way to massive sand dunes, then back to the stony ground as we returned to the Blue Inn for lunch and bike maintenance. At this point several of the license plate holders were caving under the abuse, and most of the blinkers were long gone. Regardless, the bikes were running great and after scarfing a few burgers we were back on the trail.
We would spend a good portion of the afternoon riding in full force with both groups combined. We hit the mud hills and found our way to Powerline Road and Shell Reef where many of the early freestyle films were shot. Brent was even kind enough to demonstrate that the softly-sprung EXC machines could handle coming up massively short on the FMX lines, though he quickly halted those shenanigans after redeeming himself with a clean run. At several points we were able to see the Salton Sea at a distance.
The Crack was an interesting challenge for all of our riders despite the variety in skill levels. Here Steve works his way through the giant rain rut.
One of the last obstacles in our way was a trip through what Scot labeled The Crack. It's basically an enormous rain rut which gets so tight as it winds back and forth that a rider can't dab a foot but has to simply lean their bars into either side of the 20+ foot walls to maintain balance. Jeff, having only ridden a dirt bike twice at some BMW enduro training schools, was a bit intimidated by the fissure. With a bit of assistance from the others he soldiered through in what was easily the most stressful and physically demanding experience of his off-road career. It was an interesting experience to watch him struggle and overcome obstacles as such a new rider, but offering encouragement and a helping hand was well worth having to slow our pace. That's what I love about riding is that you can always get better and Jeff can be proud that he had the steepest learning curve of the group. By the time the tour ended he was easily twice the rider that he was when we turned laps in Scot's backyard.
We skipped our morning ration of nutritional supplements on Day 3 and instead busted down Highway 78 towards Julian where we stopped and made up for the missing meal at the comfortable Julian Cafe and Bakery. Coffee and a slice of pie were on my wish list and once everyone was fat and happy it was time to hit the hard saddles again. We rode as a combined group until just outside of the quaint town where we ditched the pavement for a long, relatively fast section of dirt and gravel road. The rolling hills exhibited the refreshing effects of late winter rainfall and the budding grass shoots left a thin green film over the moist dirt. Up close it looked sparse and the dirt showed through more prominently, but looking across the valleys it was the cool green which demanded attention - a welcome and contradictory sight to our previous days of riding.
