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The first amphibious landing by motorcycles in Arizona. I m'~gine doing this six times.
by Ron Schneiders
PHOENIX ARIZ., Oct. 22, 1972 - The
first impr~ssion of the Tonto, Arizona
State Championship enduro was not
reassuring. The S tart/ Finish line was
under two feet of fast-moving water.
The organizers were out rerouting the
course - at four o'clock the day before
the event.
600 pounds of lime had been used to
mark the course, but according to ,one
of the club members there wasn t a
spe.ck of lime left: 12 inches of rain two
days before the event wiped it out
completely. The Forest Service had
talked of cancelling the run for
environmental reasons. And they were
objecting to one section in particular as
being too dangerous for the riders.
As I wandered around the makeshift
camp (The planned camp was separated
from the road hy the inn undated
sandwash.) a small voice in th~ back of
my head kept telling me, "You kn~w
better." Enduros away from the major
metropolitan areas are alluring because
they offer the promise of new trails to
ride. But the offer is coupled with
others of a less attractive nature.
You can give odds that the technical
aspects of the run will be botched, that
clocks will be inaccurate, distances
nlca:;ured m0re or le~;; by guess and
checks placed in the wrong spots. But if
that's all you're lucky. You could wind
up having to make a crucial decision: In
which of 360 possible directions do you
head in this strange territory after the
marking has petered out completely and
you have only two quarts of gas and a
half hour of daylight?
Finally, you might be faced with that
ultimate of ego bummers, the club
which figures that since this is the only
enduro of the season "We'll give them
one to remember!" This is commonly
known as the "pack and carry" hip, but
push, shove, drag, crawl under, sweat,
cry abandon your wrecked motorcycle
and suffer a coronary might be a more
adequate description.
. The .tip·off to the "pack-and-carry
run" is usually a statement to the effect
that "Me and my buddies made the
whole course on our little step-through
frame Yamasuki 80's. Surely you won't
have any trouble on your fancy
European ISDT machine". What is left
unsaid is the fact that three SIX foot
lumberjacks horsed the 100 lb. bikes
over the course, onc section per
weekend, over the six previous months.
"Course, we couldn't keep the schedule,
on those little bikes" they'll usually add
piously.
That was approximately what one of
the organizers of the Tonto told me. I
turned away so he wouldn't see the cold
sweat break out on my forehead. I
walked back over to my truck and gave
my Matador a long loving look. I
wanted to be able to remember it the
way it was.
..
.
You might be tempted to d,sm,ss thIS
as yet a,nother example of traditional
California chauvinism, but in fact it's a
matter of experience backed by simple
logic. In areas where there are only one
or two runs a year, the or:ganizers never
ge t enough experience to become
proficient in their tasli:, so a botch job
becomes probable. Add a bit of human
nature - the desire to be remembered
forever - and the botch job can be
translated into a catastrophe.
Sometimes though, your experience
can betray you and cold logic can
evaporate like hot gasoline. It happened
to the Tonto.
The Tonto started easily enough with
a 20 MPH schedule through desert-like
terrain. The trail was narrow and twisty
and riding off trail was discouraged by
the presence of several varieties of
cactus. The giant Saguaro were easy to
avoid: they were 20 feet or more in
height and could be seen' a long ways
off. Another variety though, was more
of a problem. It had long green snaky
arms that sometimes extended across
the trail. A "bite" from one of these left
marks!
After five miles the schedule wen t up
to 24 MPH and the route was primarily
fire road with lots of turns and more
than a few rocks. The rains had really
done their stuff, and erosion ditches
from a few inches to a few feet in width
crossed the road every hundred yards or
so. Most could be ridden over or
jumped, bu t occasionally there was a
real for-and-bddy destroyer.
The fireroad lasted for 17.6 mlles
and climbed continuously from 3000
feet to approximately 8500. Guys who
started rich were blubbering by the time
they reached the top.
Down. Yes. From high up in the
trees to the desert level, some five
thousand feet below in just al)out three
miles. It was a great trail .with
off-camber turns, rocks, a few slippery
logs to jump and some short trials-like
climbs over boulders. There was just a
bit of mud to make things interesting
and no dust whatever. The danger
aspect that had concerned the forest.
service was, I think, overrated. The
schedule (eight mph) was just right for a
middlin' good uB" rider; an U A" rider
should have been able to double that
speed. (Even though schedule was easy I
managed to mal,