Piston Run Cross Country
“The loud blast has all of the bikes firing up and riders dropping the clutch simultaneously, dirt and rocks fly from the rear tires, pelting the following class lined up to go next.”
I woke up at six a.m. in the Chilliwack mall parking lot. After vigorously rubbing my eyes open, I turn the key to start my big red van, and the diesel motor rumbles to life. Ozzy Osbourne’s “Over the Mountain” comes from the door speakers, with the distinctive shutter the blown passenger side has had for the last two years. Shifting to the capital “D” on the steering column, I set course for my destination, the Local A&W for the classic sausage and eggs with black coffee. The running water in the washroom was an added bonus. The grub was devoured and I was back on the road heading to today’s race site.
Fifteen minutes out of town and turn left at the bridge, another fifteen and your passing the local penitentiary, with the turn off for the dirt road quickly approaching. I swung the van to the left, leaving the asphalt behind while dodging the many potholes and one ground squirrel. The turns are familiar, even though three years had passed since my last visit to this event. The memories of heading up this road in the back seat of Dad’s old Ford cube van are strong, and the raging river that runs through the forest drew my eyes away from the road just as it had to a much younger me. Continuing on, I came to pass a few “city campers”. Tents set up beside new two wheel drive cars that look out of place in the bush, likely the first dirt these vehicles have seen. The sun reflected off a pile of empties aside a smouldering fire, Okanagan Springs, 1516 it looks like, signs of a good night.
A short five minutes later and the race site appears. About fifty vehicles in the main parking area, and a perfect van sized spot close to the sign up tent and well known faces. Perfect timing, sign up starts in fifteen minutes, making it easy to be one of the first in line, securing the traditional Piston Run Beer Mug the first one hundred entries receive. A few handshakes, some bull shitting about how fast we all were last weekend and it’s back to the van to unload.
My knuckles graze the roof of the van as I bring the RMZ450 backwards down the ramp and place it on the bike stand. Freshly washed and detailed, new rubbers, a brand new air filter, oil just changed and of course the new throttle cable, replacing the damaged one from last weekend's race. But no mention of how prepped the bike looks, instead I’m asked, “The 450? Why did you bring this?”, “Your racing this today?” and the like. My confidence isn’t shaken, the RMZ and I have meshed into one perfectly matched entity, flesh and metal bonded so perfectly that it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. About this time a bit of a pre ride is in order to loosen the arms and get a feel for the terrain.
My MSR gear needs a wash, but has one more race left in it before that. Good friend Quintin is gearing up as well, and his KX250 two stroke looks like it could use some roost on the front number plate. The two of us take off from the staging area and hit the first trail. A couple minutes in and we start getting on the gas, jumping from root to root, showing our skills and ability to ride mistake free. But just shortly after this display of prowess, the sound of burning premix is no longer behind me. I must be going pretty quick to of lost Q already, perfect. After stopping to wait for Quintin, he rounds the corner with one rad shroud and radiator badly placed and a not so pleased disposition. Immediately back to the truck to attempt repairs. I continued my warm up, riding the start straight and taking note of the puddle 15 seconds after the start line, will plan to avoid that.
Back at the pits now and riders meeting is underway. I am half listening as I run back to the gas check, left my goggles behind that I plan to start the race with. Meeting adjourned and the bikes are fired up. The start is a half kilometer down the road and narrow, get there quick for a decent spot. I ended up on the far left in the weeds, but not as bad as a second row position would be. Top dead centre, hands on the helmet, waiting for a blare from the air horn to signal the bikes to life.
The loud blast has all of the bikes firing up and riders dropping the clutch simultaneously, dirt and rocks fly from the rear tires, pelting the following class lined up to go next. We’re all coming together and banging bars, fighting for position. I settle in about sixth place and keep the 450 throttle throttle open. We round the corner and funnel in to the trail, I’m dead centre as I drop in and end up going right through the centre of the puddle I was planning to avoid from earlier, and with a splash we rocket out of site.
Roots, rocks, tight corners, all typical Piston Run terrain. Just a few minutes in, still racing inches apart from one another and ‘Bleh’, the RMZ cuts out on a downhill. A quick seat bounce and clutch drop fires it back up with no position lost. Rounding the next corner the RMZ starts to sputter and almost stalls again. I pound the shifter down one and build the rev’s. ‘Pop, pop, braaaap!’ and we’re off again. This continues throughout the next ten minutes and gradually gets worse. Could that splash off the start be to blame? A soaked air filter? Water in a connection? At this point I switch into 125 mode and start riding at higher revs, not ideal on a fire breathing 450. Stalling a kick start only four stroke isn’t great fun when your doing it once every few minutes. I lose a couple of positions but am able to put up a fight and keep moving forward. A few quicker spots on the course are a relief as the dreaded flame out was more avoidable at speed, but they never last long enough. At this point I found myself locked in a battle with KTM mounted Aaron Richardson. This kept my spirits high as I stayed on the gas and clutch to keep things moving. This goes on each lap, I stall a couple of times and loose site, reel Aaron back in and fight to pass, just to fall behind once again. The final section of each lap is a trail that weaves throughout a clear cut, with plenty of stumps and rocks to keep you from taking any new lines off the main. I had a small gap on Aaron and rode this section as quick as I could, then cut into the trees quick to wind down into the final checkpoint. I round the last corners and see a few racers stopped, and as I approach I am stopped as well. “Twenty seconds ‘till cut off!”. Well, I never time out if I’m not bleeding, and even then it would be a rare case. But my confidence in my bike is shook, and I question if the Suzuki has another lap in it. It’s running no better and being stranded for hours on a final lap isn’t very intriguing. The sound of Aarons thumper comes up from behind as he comes to a stop right behind me. “Is it cut off!?” Aaron hollers, “Ten seconds!” is shouted back, “Lets go!” is Aarons response. Well I’m going if he goes, but wouldn’t you know it, just as I start to kick over the RMZ450 a loud “Three, Two, One, Woo!” comes from the timing tent. Oh well, maybe next time Aaron.
Fifth place Pro/Overall.
– Malcolm Hett
