The high pitched whine of a two
stroke, the smell of castor and high octane race fuel. Pit crews scramble to
make last minuet adjustments. Chase trucks head off to meet up with their riders
farther along the course. Bikes jockey for starting position, as the American
flag stands proud; ready to begin the event. Engines rev, clutches slip, and
suddenly the flag goes down......
It could be the scene at any desert race
across the southwest, for all the elements were there. But it wasn't. It was the
start of the 1997 Barstow to Vegas Protest Ride, an event that marked the end of
one era and the beginning of another.
Through the efforts of the
Desert Vipers Motorcycle Club, and the persistence of the Sahara Club, The BLM
is now working out the final details to make B2V 98 a reality.
It's been a
long road for all those involved, and hard lessons
have been learned on both sides of the issue. The Sahara Club (and in fact, we
all) have learned the extent of the power and influence once wielded by the so
called "environmental" groups. The BLM has learned that the OHV
community will no longer accept being considered the bastard son of outdoor
recreation. The Desert Vipers MC have learned more about red tape and politics
than any group of people should have to suffer in several lifetimes. Now with
those lessons learned, we stand at a crossroads.
As "the deal" stands, The
Sahara Club will discontinue the unofficial protest ride, and in return, the BLM
will work in good faith with the Desert Vipers MC to bring the Barstow to Vegas
race back in 1998. The majority of the details have already been ironed out, and
those that remain are being worked through to satisfy both the needs of the
environment, and the needs of the event. Both parties are confident that the
issues involved can be brought to a mutually agreeable solution.
Has the protest ride been a success? Was it worth the
effort? Most definitely, for without it, the B2V would be only a distant memory,
and a trophy on a riders wall. The Barstow to Vegas protest ride has kept the
race alive in the hearts and minds of racers and fans across the world. It has
brought the BLM to the discussion table despite the pressure, powerbrokering and
propaganda of the Sierra Club, Earth First! and other anti-humanity
organizations. With that in mind, the B2V unofficial protest ride has been a
great success indeed!
But is it Really over? Will
there Ever be another protest ride? That all depends
on the actions of the BLM. If they refuse to bow to the pressure and propaganda
of the supposed "environmental" organizations, act in good faith and
keep their promises as they made them, there will never be another protest.
Instead, there will be a race; a historic event that the people of the United
States want returned. If however, B2V becomes another in a long history of
broken promises, a very different picture emerges. In the meeting with BLM
officials which produced the initial agreement, Sahara Club president Rick
Sieman left the agency to ponder these words...
"If
you go back on your word and stick it in our ass this time, just remember the
days when over 1000 people showed up to ride. I am promising you that we'll be
having those days again"
At the crossroads, the path to B2V 98 was never clearer.
Take a short journey down the road of progress, drive responsibly, obey all
traffic signs, avoid roadkill like the Sierra Club & EF!, and arrive at our
destination safe & sound. The 1998 Barstow to Vegas Hare & Hound. Ladies
& Gentlemen, start your engines
Ride Report
ORC
made our second annual pilgrimage to Barstow on Nov. 29'th, and met up with Rick
Sieman, Pat Martin, Barry Van Dyke, their families, and a large group of other
riders at the Days Inn on Friday evening. Temperatures were falling, and I
quietly gave thanks that the heater in the RV was in good working order. After
getting all the gory details on the next day's ride, We loaded back up and
continued on to Alvord Rd.
Several RV's had beaten us there, and a
rather warm looking fire flickered invitingly off in the distance. As we crossed
the overpass of I-15 we were greeted by a freshly bladed road that was literally
the width of a 5 lane freeway. No exageration - It really is that big. Its one
of Fort Irwin's access roads. Aside that road sat a strange little sign which
stated
"Caution - Entering Endangered Tortoise
Habitat".
I....don't know. Maybe it's just me, but I
cant seem to remember anything in science class about bladed 5 lane gravel roads
being tortoise habitat, but then again, I was sick a couple days. Yup that must
have been when they covered it. Silly me.
We met up with Louis McKey, the "Phantom
Duck of the Desert", and some friends at the fire, swapped a few lies, and
drank a few Tecates. Finally curiosity got the better of me and I had to
ask..."Louis, what the hell ever possessed you to jump out in front of a
convoy of Army trucks"? (This
event occurred during the 1990 Protest Ride where Sieman, Martin, et-all, were
knocked off their bikes and arrested on a variety of charges. See ick Sieman's
book "Monkey Butt" for a full description of the incident)
With a smile on his face that threatened to
crack his cheeks, the Duck related the tale...
"Rick
and those guys knew they were going to be arrested. That was the whole point.
The arrests gave us grounds to appeal the whole closure thing. I was supposed to
be the guy that went and bailed them out, got their bikes etc. Obviously it
didn't work out that way", he laughs. "Right
after Rick and the guys did an end-around the BLM barrier and headed out toward
Rasor Rd., an Army convoy came rolling up the dirt road from I-15. I thought
about it a second, changed my mind, and then decided to help the BLM enforce
their closure of that road! Well, you know the rest. They slapped the cuffs on,
arms behind my back, and escorted me away from the TV cameras and reporters
covering the event. As they were figuring out what to charge me with, I asked
them to give me a hand. I told them I had to go to the bathroom, and since I
couldn't very well Unzip myself, I asked them to take it out and hold it for
me!"
And so went the stories of B2V's gone by,
until we all decided to pack it in.. Morning was fast approaching, 120 miles of
Federally approved desert riding awaited us, and Stateline Nevada seemed a long
way away.
On
Saturday morning, frost greeted the dawn, and RV's, trucks, and trailers began
converging on our little corner of the desert. In a short time, there were close
to 150 people, and 30 or so riders ready to take on the desert. Before the ride
began, 9 sets of JT goggles, Sahara Club merchandise, and a considerable amount
of B2V memorabilia were auctioned, raffled, and given away to commemorate the
last protest ride. Rick, Louis, and Alan Gatleb all took the podium and said a
few brief words about the event, it's history, and the coming B2V race. With a
round of applause, the festivities ended, and we all got down to the
oh-so-serious business of taming (or being tamed by) the Mojave desert.
The
Duck rode out onto the course, alone with his thoughts, his YZ and his fond
memories of an era in passing. The rest of us brave souls lined up in a group
behind the "starting line" provided by the American flag, and Pat
Martin's F-150. Suddenly, the flag dropped, engines roared, rocks flew, and the
Last B2V protest ride was under way!
First stop - Rasor Road.
Part 1 of the course is a short hop to Rasor
road, totaling about 12 miles over power line roads and a series of extremely
nasty whoop-de-doos. Speeds of over 40 mph are guaranteed to get you air on a
bike or in a rail. The course parallels the freeway all the way down, so close
in many places that you can easily determine the hair and jacket color of people
in the passing vehicles.
This
leg is a nice and "easy" warm up to make sure everything is in working
order (including the bike's (or rail's) operator), before going out into the
rougher sections of the course. Unfortunately, one of our group, 14 yr. old
Jeremie Robinson, riding a vintage Suzuki DS 250, suffered a flat tire and had
to trailer the bike before things really got started. His disappointment was
short lived however, as you will soon discover.
Second stop - Midway to Baker
The run is a mix of hills, washes, ravines,
and a freeway underpass. For Bikes, the underpass is no problem, as they are
able to easily navigate a rock pile at the opening. For a rail however, things
get a little tricky. Several riders shook their heads, saying "Not a chance
in hell". Then again, they never took a rail rockcrawling. I, on the other
hand, have....and proceeded to provide great entertainment to the masses by
crawling over the pile by keeping one set of wheels aside the concrete wall of
the underpass. With one wheel hanging over 8 feet in the air, the rails center
of gravity shifted, and I set the rail down on the other side of the rocks, and
continued on down the trail (secretly thanking the powers that be for that
unprecedented bit of luck!) When we reached the stop, we fueled up, switched
passengers, slammed a tall cool one (Iced tea for me thanks) and headed out for
Baker CA - home of the worlds tallest thermometer.
Stop 3 - Baker CA
Feeling frisky, I mashed the go pedal and
blasted down a long straight at about 95 mph. Ah, the need for speed. Up ahead,
the road made a rolling right hander....and went straight - take your pick. I
opted to do my best "World of Outlaws" imitation, pitching the rail
into the turn while hard on the gas in 4'th. It was a beautiful turn, and I was
quite proud of it. "Hell", I figured "Time to go after that
racing contract". All that supreme confidence, well OK, - rude arrogance,
evaporated in an instant when I realized I should have gone straight. Hey! it
could happen to you too!!! (grumble grumble) Without further fanfare, we were
back on course, and headed for another freeway underpass.
Back on the left side of I-15, we continued
on toward Baker CA. through sand washes and more power line roads, some of which
were heavily rutted from the recent rains in the southwest. In a couple places,
2 foot deep washouts awaited the unwary travler. Everybody held things to a dull
roar (thanks to U.S.F.S. approved spark arrestors) and we all arrived in Baker
without incident.
While the ride in to town went off without
incident, the stop in Baker did not. An morally righteous and environmental
minded citizen took it upon himself to vent his outrage on one member of our
group. The 6 foot plus, heavy set man, singled out and "confronted" a
4 foot 11 woman (out of the 100+ people there) and proceeded to tounge lash her
about the "illegality" of the ride, and how "all our asses"
were "going to end up in jail". When Pat Martin approached the
individual to correct his misconceptions about our activity and eventual fate at
the hands of non present authorities, the "man" simply turned tail and
ran like a frightened child. Its funny how that happens. Typical enviro-cowardice.
Those who needed, fueled. Those who had'em,
smoked'em, and after a bit more beverage, we were on our way to Cima Rd.
Stop 4 - Cima rd.
A long sandy stretch begins the run out of
Baker toward Haloran Springs. The course alternates between washes, power line
roads and mountainous terrain. Dust hung in the air, and eventually the lack of
visibility took a bite out of the Duck. Louis augered in hard after missing a
corner, doing damage to his right hand and right leg. After the visions of
"endangered" desert tortises stopped spinning around Louie's head, the
grizzled desert warrior dusted off, kicked over the bike, and carried on.
Let me digerss a moment and set the next
scene for you. We (the rail, a quad, and about 10 bikes) were in a wash about 5
miles from the interstate. In order to get to where we were, you had to traverse
some nasty washed out gravel roads, deep sand washes, and big rocks. Imagine our
suprise when we came upon a fairly new Cadillac Fleetwood all decked out in gold
trim, parked casually in a sand wash. My first thought was "Dead body
inside". When you are this close to Vegas, things tend to happen, and not
all of them can be considered nice.
Rick cautiously approached the vehicle and
startled the sole occupant. He was a younger man, and definitely looked a
"bit" out of place in that particular automobile, but he claimed to be
OK and just taking a nap. Ohhhhhhh - K. Well, to each their own I
guess. Not wanting to wind up the unfortunate casualty of a drug deal gone bad,
we quickly left the man and his Caddy, continuing on toward Cima.
Further along, and quite unexpectedly, Rick
and the Duck took a side road to Hollaran Springs, and it wasn't until later
that we discovered why. Barry, Alan, Myself, and the rest of the group kept
going, quickly found ourselves with several options. We chose a 15 mile stretch
of power line road that was all but a straight and flat out top gear run.
Several rises sent us airborne, and the few gullies (complete with switchback
turns) made for some great sideways action. But alas, it was over all too soon,
as suddenly we were at Cima rd.
At Cima, we discovered that the Duck's first
crash had left him barely able to hang on to the bike. Rick had took him out to
Halloran Springs, contacted Gary Cory (in one of the RVs) and brought him back
from Cima in an impromptu rescue mission. We topped off the Rail, added a layer
of clothing made the final passenger switch (My mother hopped in ...hey, it IS
her rail after all!) and we prepared to make the final run to Stateline NV, and
the finish line.
B2V
has always been filled with memorable experiences. Earth First acts of
terrorism, BLM heavy handed legal action, the list goes on. The last of these
experiences may perhaps be remembered as the most profound. The Duck was clearly
unable to finish the event, but the YZ 250 was more than ready to go. Remember
back to Rasor Rd. and Jeremie Robinson? The Duck looked over and asked him
"You ever ride a 250? Good, Get your gear on and since I can't do it, make
damn sure my bike finishes." We were all pretty stunned, but none more so
then Jeremie. Reality set in and hell, the kid must have set some kind of record
for suiting up.
Over the hills and far
away - Stateline NV.
The run to Stateline is pure mountain
terrain. Rocks, narrow roads, and very rugged riding await those who dare. Well,
we dare, (we ARE Off-Road.com after all <G>) and took it head on. In the
mountains, you quickly learn to give thanks for fuel injection, and in a short
time, we had achieved the summit, overlooking Whiskey Pete's Casino, Buffalo
Bills, and the Primadonna.
With
a gravity assist, 4'th gear quickly took us WFO (thats "Wound Flat
Out" in polite company) to the bottom and to the last official finish
of the Last unofficial B2V protest ride. With Jeremy aboard, the Duck's YZ found
it's way home for the last time.
One era ends, and another begins. One
generation passes the love of the sport down to another.........Somehow it
seemed fitting.
Please note that no
Desert Tortoise were harmed in any way during the course of this event.
Reptile security provided by the Sahara Club USA Inc.
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"If
you go back on your word and stick it in our ass this time, just remember the
days when over 1000 people showed up to ride. I am promising you that we'll be
having those days again"
ORC
made our second annual pilgrimage to Barstow on Nov. 29'th, and met up with Rick
Sieman, Pat Martin, Barry Van Dyke, their families, and a large group of other
riders at the Days Inn on Friday evening. Temperatures were falling, and I
quietly gave thanks that the heater in the RV was in good working order. After
getting all the gory details on the next day's ride, We loaded back up and
continued on to Alvord Rd.
On
Saturday morning, frost greeted the dawn, and RV's, trucks, and trailers began
converging on our little corner of the desert. In a short time, there were close
to 150 people, and 30 or so riders ready to take on the desert. Before the ride
began, 9 sets of JT goggles, Sahara Club merchandise, and a considerable amount
of B2V memorabilia were auctioned, raffled, and given away to commemorate the
last protest ride. Rick, Louis, and Alan Gatleb all took the podium and said a
few brief words about the event, it's history, and the coming B2V race. With a
round of applause, the festivities ended, and we all got down to the
oh-so-serious business of taming (or being tamed by) the Mojave desert.
The
Duck rode out onto the course, alone with his thoughts, his YZ and his fond
memories of an era in passing. The rest of us brave souls lined up in a group
behind the "starting line" provided by the American flag, and Pat
Martin's F-150. Suddenly, the flag dropped, engines roared, rocks flew, and the
Last B2V protest ride was under way!
