Kimmy's Moto-X Park, Waikokowai

Easter Sunday, 8 April 2007

We had arranged that, weather permitting, we would accompany my wife's oldest son, Jarrod, and his father, Martin, to Kimmy's Moto-X Park so the kids could have a ride on the training track and Martin and I could take our bikes off road.

The weekend duly arrived and the weather was spectacular. Summer was having its "last hurrah" so we had fine, clear days for most of the weekend with a bit of overcast on Sunday.

Martin hired a trailer to transport his XR250 to the site and loaded Jarrod's Chinese-made 50cc mini-moto into the back of the car; Juliet and I put the cubs in our car, stuck their electric motorbike in the boot (trunk), packed a picnic lunch and the camera then Juliet drove the car while I followed on my XT225.

The side stand on Martin's XR broke off so we had to stop and secure the bike again, bracing it with the rope as best we could. We stopped a couple more times to retension the ropes as the bike kept slipping then, when we went to leave I discovered my side stand would not stay up - the lug that retains the spring had snapped off and I'd lost the spring somewhere along the road. Martin loaned me the spring from his side stand but the only thing we could do, for want of an anchoring point, was secure the side stand to the pillion foot rest. This meant I effectively had no side stand, either.

It certainly wasn't a good day for side stands.

Stopping to fuel up was interesting as I had to lean the bike against a safety barrier near the bowser.

We made it to the site, stopping a few times along the way to straighten Martin's bike up and tighten the ropes.

It was quite busy; a number of bikes were already racing around the Moto-X track and other bikes were waiting or being unloaded from trailers.

We paid our money and were directed to park near the kid's training track so the kids were not near the bigger bikes. I leaned my bike against the trailer then we took Martin's bike off the trailer and leaned it against the other side.

We got Jarrod, aged 7, suited up, got his bike started and sent him off around the kids' track. He did quite well but later informed us it was rather boring.

Jarrod's bike

Back from the track - Juliet's oldest son, Jarrod, on his mini-moto, talking with Tangwyn

While Jarrod was having his ride, we discovered Taliesin had left his shoes behind so he couldn't go on the track. Juliet went to visit some friends nearby to see if they had some suitable shoes we could borrow but they weren't home and it looked as though Taliesin was going to miss out on riding but when Jarrod came back he loaned his boots to Taliesin.

Taliesin got onto the track and almost immediately fell due to the soft, loose dirt. He started again and had a little difficulty with the way the bike handled but then adapted and took off around the track. The electric bike managed to get up the high hill at the top of the track and the "Fearless Four-year-old" raced back down the hill.

Jarrod took the electric bike for a ride around the track and came back with a new respect for the bike's capability.

Meanwhile Martin was having issues getting the XR started. I managed to get it running and adjusted the idle so it would stay running then took the number plate and rear view mirrors off my bike. I would have liked to have removed the rear indicators but there was no easy way of doing that, so they stayed on.

We suited up in our armour, left Juliet supervising the kids at the training track and headed off for the enduro trail.

The Enduro Trail:

Wolf:
43 years old, out of shape, relatively inexperienced at off-road riding (over 20 years ago I had mucked about on my Suzuki TS125 around the river bank and once went on the "Times Track", a large mound of dirt covered with blackberry and criss-crossed with motorbike tracks.) Kitted out in Sidi touring boots that really need replacing, DriRider "Alpine" (PVC-coated Cordura) leggings, O'Neal armoured mesh jacket, thick leather winter gloves and Grex RD1 helmet.

Wolf's bike:
2003 Yamaha XT225 equipped with "ego" barkbusters and Pirelli Scorpion MT90A/T tyres (around 80% road bias) inflated to around 28psi (I had planned to drop the pressure a bit when I got to the Moto-X park and I eventually remembered this fact when I was half way home.) Modifications include rattle-can spray paint job, rear brake arm inverted to bring it up above the swing arm out of harm's way, missing bash plate and side stand locked to the frame.

Martin:
42 years old, likewise out of shape and inexperienced. Kitted out in moto-x boots, light moto-x leggings, UFO armoured mesh jacket, moto-x gloves and Fly moto-x helmet.

Martin's bike:
A dilapidated Honda XR250 of indeterminate vintage equipped with substantial knobby off-road tyres. The only discernible "modification" was the lack of side stand.

The Ride:
For some stupid reason, both of us thought the enduro trail would be a fairly easy ride through the bush on a firm and dry dirt trail. We figured on a fairly quick ride through the trail then back to spend more time with the kids on the training track while Juliet had a ride around the trail.

It started off easy enough and then the terrain started getting steep. Martin was going really slow and I was preferring to try to ride through the curves at a decent pace, keeping the momentum up - to the point I was catching up at dangerous times on the descent or on corners.

I managed a few sharp descents with corners at the bottom then came off on a relatively simple right-hand corner through failing to focus and ride through the curve.

The O'Neal armour did it's job and I was uninjured but I had broken the right rear indicator. I cleaned the broken glass from the bulb off the track and picked up the lens then continued on my way.

The track got progressively more challenging, steep rutted ascents and descents. Often I would stop and look at something and think "I don't want to deal with that" but I had no choice - there was no turning back, no "easy option". The only thing I could do was acknowledge the fear and face the challenge, chanting "ride through, Wolf, ride through" to the point it almost became a mantra and I was beginning to suspect I'd turned Buddhist.

At one point I paused before a rutted steep descent with a corner at the bottom and quelled my apprehension with, "Fuck it, I've managed worse."

It didn't take long before I knew from personal experience that "Enduro" is an endurance challenge. My arms were aching from being used as suspension on the descents and I was hot, tired and sweating.

The practice I had put in on the road - standing on the pegs, shifting my weight forward and back - was really paying off and I was thankful to my friends on the XT225 and Kiwi Biker forums for their advice on technical riding and their suggestions on what to practise. I had wheelied the bike only once before and I was leery of the back wheel drifting but at least I was comfortable with shifting between sitting on the seat and standing on the pegs.

It took all of my years of riding and reacting to various bikes to respond to the uneven terrain and the sudden shifts in direction and traction. A section of loose, deep dirt had the back wheel sliding in a disconcerting fashion but I got through it.

The XT, being a very light and nimble bike, made the task easier as I was able to keep it on two wheels through some very challenging spots.

When I came off for the second time - again a right-hand corner - it was also not as challenging a curve as others I had already encountered. Again I had allowed my focus to wander and failed to ride through the curve.

This time I twisted my right ankle under the bike. It stung for a short while and then felt OK. I got back on the bike and soon caught up with Martin again.

The trail increased in challenges again with patches of mud and clay but by now I was beginning to trust my ability to control the bike and I was not so perturbed by the back wheel slithering.

Frequent rests were required as the terrain was taking its toll - I was getting close to having an asthma attack a few times and I felt exhausted. Not being able to put our side stands down on such occasions meant that we had to locate convenient banks or trees to lean the bikes against or hold them up ourselves; panting like dogs and our legs shaking from exertion.

We encountered a sign pointing out two alternative routes: straight ahead or branching off to the left. The straight-ahead route led to a steep hill that Martin reckoned would be too hard to climb so I had a rest while he walked the alternative track and came back to report it was narrow but easier so we decided to take that route.

My track-pants were soaked with sweat under my heavy water-proof leggings and it was nearly impossible to pull my saturated winter-weight leather-and-Thinsulate gloves over my sweaty hands when we were about to continue.

It wasn't long before we encountered an even steeper hill that we had no choice but to tackle as there was no convenient alternative route.

I think this was the hill we crested to find a long, almost vertical, descent followed by a sharp right at the bottom (unless I have the track muddled in my brain).

Martin went down the hill as slowly as possible, bouncing juddering and skidding all the way. I waited for him to get out of the way and then waited for two bikes that had caught up with us to go through, all the while wishing that Martin hadn't stopped at the top of the hill as this was one descent I would rather not have had time to contemplate.

I screwed up my courage to the sticking place, knowing full well I really had no option, and started down at a faster pace than Martin's - hoping to use momentum to smooth out the bumps. I missed the corner at the bottom, and veered left, bouncing over a small fallen log. I had no time to even contemplate lightening the front wheel as Scott from the XT225 forum had advised so I just smashed into it, bounced and twisted and somehow managed to keep the bike upright. I came to a rest sunk in soft dirt. I couldn't easily roll backwards but there was a small drop down to an area of firm packed earth that would allow me access back to the trail. I rolled forward, turned the bike and regained the track, thankful not to have spilled off.

I caught up with Martin and we continued on with me stopping frequently to let him go down the descents at his pace then me following at a faster, smoother pace.

After a while we encountered signs saying something like "Warning! Hump Hill" then rounded the corner and stopped at the foot of the hill in question. It rose before us like the palisade of Sauron's fortress at Mount Doom. It was slippery and rutted and rose to a hump then rose again to another hump then rose to the summit. It made the one Martin had deemed to be "too hard" look like a bump in the track.

Martin started up first, his knobby rear tyre slipping and slithering, spraying up dark mud. Finally he made it to the top.

I had every faith in the XT225 - friends on the XT225 forum who do this sort of stuff, and worse, frequently have often said the XT will go places that heavier 650s cannot go as the bike is so light and nimble. However, I was equipped with road-biased tyres inflated to my usual "street pressure" of 28psi, not full knobby tyres running at around ten to fifteen pounds per square inch. I was worried that my tyres were going to let me down - literally - and I would find myself sliding backwards from some point part way up the steep, slippery hill.

As there was no going back and no alternative, I rolled back a bit, leaned forward over the tank, opened the throttle and let out the clutch.

I bounced and slithered up the hill to the crest of the first hump, continued up and over the next and managed to make it to the summit where I stopped, elated.

The worthy XT had not let me down, even though the tyres were not exactly designed for the task.

After a short rest we continued on.

Somewhere along the way I ended up passing Martin and plummeting down some steep descents that put enormous distance between us - there was no chance of even propping up the bike and walking back to see where he had got to. I hit a large patch of deep mud and slithered through, keeping the power on and drifting sideways towards the edge of the track. I managed to keep it upright and gain traction at the edge then continued on.

I was pretty exhausted by this stage, having battled ruts, bumps and bone-jarring hollows and pushed myself to the limit and beyond both physically and mentally. Thirst, too was taking its toll - we had foolishly omitted to bring even water, let alone an electrolyte drink, thinking it would be a fairly easy track that we would complete in a relatively short time.

My third and final fall, near the end of the trail, I am putting down to dehydration-induced "brain fade". Somehow, I lost concentration on a moderate descent with a left hand turn at the bottom and wound up in a gorse bush.

I was so tired I didn't have the strength to get it out on my own and I was beginning to fear I had somehow gotten lost and I would be stuck in there. A couple of blokes riding quads told me I was very near the end and confirmed I was still on the right track then one of them helped me get the bike out of the bush. The bike was still in gear and I was so dehydrated that I mucked about trying to get it out of gear - it took a while for me to think of merely pulling in the clutch lever.

Stupid mistakes, anxiety and not being able to think of the bloody obvious - seems like dehydration to me.

I set off again and discovered the blokes on the quads were right, a few more climbs and descents and a few more corners and I arrived back at the starting point.

I rode up to the training track and found Juliet bored out of her skull from waiting for so long. I leaned the bike against the car, guzzled some "fruit drink" and some Coke and pretty much collapsed, too out of breath to contemplate having a cigarette.

After a few moments I stripped off my armour and looked after the kids while Juliet took my bike for a ride around the grassy hillside. She had hoped to borrow it to go on the Enduro trail but I pointed out it had been an extreme challenge for me with all my years of riding experience.

She tried a tight turn on the grassy slope and had her first fall from a motorbike. Fortunately she wasn't badly injured - a scrape and a bruise on her thigh from landing against a coil of alkathene drainage pipe and rode around a bit more.

Martin finally emerged from the trail around half an hour later to announce that he had fallen off once and snapped his clutch lever. Fortunately for him a somewhat better-equipped rider had been able to repair it using cable ties. He said later that he now wants to get bark busters to prevent any future damage to his levers.

We lifted Martin's bike back onto the trailer and tied it down - obviously more securely this time as we only had to stop once on the way home - then headed off.

I stopped to tell the people who ran the place, "I fell off three times, broke my indicator and scared the shit out of myself - best fucking day of my life. I'll certainly be coming back."

I mentioned that next time I might go for slightly more aggressive tyres - perhaps 50-50 road and trail - and one of the blokes said "I dunno, you seem to have done all right on the ones you've got."

Riding back home along State Highway 1 at 100km/h, I grinned like the Cheshire cat as I reflected on the fact that I had just had a challenging ride through a rugged off-road trail and now I was riding the same bike at open road speed with equal facility - this was the very reason I love Dual Sport bikes so much.

The XT225 handled every challenge I threw at it with ease, despite the road-biased tyres and my own lack of experience. If it had been a heavier, or less-capable, bike I never would have made it through. I now know from experience why everyone on the XT225 forum extols the bike's virtues in an off-road setting. During the ride I had often doubted my ability and a couple of times I was dubious about the tyres I was running on, but never once did I doubt the bike's ability.

As to the trail ride itself, I was exhausted, dehydrated, battered and scared most of the time but I was also elated, exhilarated and surprised by my performance at other times. I had faced my fears and prevailed more frequently than I had failed and when I had failed my gear had done its job and kept me safe.

Last year at the Cold Kiwi, I looked up at the hill they use for the Hill Climb event and thought "bugger that!" This year, I'll be taking that hill as I know the bike and I can handle it.

It was a great learning experience and next time I take to the trails I plan to do things somewhat differently. Carrying a supply of electrolyte-enriched drink would be a good start. I would also invest in lighter moto-x leggings and gloves.

For the bike - as I have to replace at least one rear indicator, anyway - I would make the rear indicators easy to remove so they can join the number plate and rear view mirrors in watching from the sideline. Fixing the side stand would also be a good move.

As we had no safe place to carry our cameras, we got no photos of the trail but I took some of the aftermath when I got back home.

Damage to XT - 1

"I just bloody painted that!" The XT showing a few scrapes after the Enduro ride.

Damage to XT - 2

Cop Bait: rear indicator smashed in the first fall on the trail.

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