I was clipping right along until I picked a wrong line at one of the last deep crossings around mile 2. Wide open, I looked at the bank where I wanted to exit the creek, but instead I torpedoed into a wall of water and my handlebars disappeared from my hands. The motor died and once regained vision, I got off the bike in thigh deep water and pushed it onto the bank ahead.
Having never drowned out a bike before, I had no idea what to do first. My primary concern was not to destroy my bike. I laid the bike on it’s side and let gas run through the carb to flush out the water. I pulled the plug and with the help of Tami and another guy we flipped it upside down and cranked the water out of the engine. Checked the plug, still had spark--good. Kicked on it for another ½ hour and off I go. Had I just picked a line 2 feet further right I would have been ok. One guy said there’s one more crossing ahead, bulldog it across. It would only run with the choke on, so off I go in a cloud of blue smoke.
I took off headed for the next crossing when I came across a pack of stopped guys. Since I was houred out already, I picked through them and stopped at the edge of the rushing creek. This time there was a guy hanging off the opposing bank with outstretched arms yelling to come his way. I went for it. I killed the motor, dismounted and ran in with my trusty steed next to me. I got about ½ way across and the guy was grabbing for any part of the bike he could. The current instantly took over and swept the bike out of his hands. I wasn’t about to let go at this point. He told me to just ride it downstream. Screw that. I put my back to the current and dug in with my legs. Water was rushing around my neck as I tried desperately to hang on to it. By this time I could only read “Renthal” which was now my bike’s personal floatation device on the bars! The guy grabbed on again and with another guy’s help we managed to pull the front tire into some bushes on the bank. Whew. 99% across now. The guys were off to help the next guy in line. I pushed and pulled my bike and managed to get it up the slimy bank and onto a spot where I would have room to flip ‘er upside down. There were several guys going through the motions like it was no big deal. I knew what I had to do, but I wasn’t sure I needed to go through all the motions since the engine wasn’t running during the submarining. I learn quick, I grabbed my plug wrench from the fanny pack and went to town. I rotated my ICO thumbswitch down so as not to smash it, laid the bike over and grabbed the frame and flipped ‘er upside down. Never before Sawmill ’03 had I known that on the bottom of the swingarm read “made in Austria.”
In shorter time than the last, I was off again, choke on and hoping the next river crossing wasn’t this one again at mile 84 at the end of the day. The rain was coming down hard the entire time and the river was rising higher every minute. I lost my goggles in that crossing so I had to protect my eyes the rest of the ride. I don’t’ want to lose an eye from a branch.
The trails were awesome. Good traction and well marked. The wind, hail, and freezing rain brought back fond memories of Quicksilver 2000 as I zapped through the trails. I spent most of the time riding with Eric Elvin so it felt more like an enjoyable trail ride with your buddies rather than a race. We knew we houred out by the first check, but we were still having fun. Enduros get in your blood, you can’t just give up.
The next time anxiety struck was at what I now call Lemming River. I think it’s known as Willow Creek. It was the Mississippi with flood water by the time I got there. I was so cold I was chipping my teeth from them chattering so hard--Most of it was nerves. Guys were just leaping one right after another off the bank into the river and trying to forge across. Some tried it full throttle. Most turned off the engines. I looked at the water up to their wastes and then looked at the height my airbox on the side of my bike. Definitely engine off for this crossing as well. I saw lemming after lemming launch into the river with mixed results on each. I sat there for what seemed like 20 minutes, shaking cold and shuddering at the thought of losing my bike down the river. As guys disappeared from the far bank as they got their bikes running, turned up the urgency for this lemming. I never once saw a good line. There was no good line, meanwhile the river is rising, I thought. I got brave (or my brain froze) and went for it. Wading into the water with my bike to my side I was holding my breath that it stay with me. The front wheel hit a big rock and I gently pulled it up over that and tried to stay calm. Walking on the left next to it with my left hand on the handlebars and right hand on the rear fender holding it close and trying to maintain some control. I picked the line that drifted at a 45 deg with the current. Eerie feeling, dead engine, forging across a river with your bike. I was hoping to hit the bank downstream near where several other guys had gotten out successfully. Once I was pushing the bike onto the shallow bank I was relieved and could breathe again. By this time, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I wasn’t there for more than 15 minutes by the time I was back going again. What an accomplishment. All I kept thinking was “I HAVE to make it to gas.”
There was only ONE more river crossing before the first gas. I caught a glimpse of a lot of guys at the bottom of a hill that the trail traversed down. I pinned it, cool, I thought—a check!” Was I ever disappointed when I reached the bottom--all the activity was yet ANOTHER river crossing. Argh! Will it ever end? How many times am I going to have to pull the plug and flip my bike upside down today? Luckily, there was one guy there at the river’s edge telling me to cross about 4’ upstream from the trail. That way I MIGHT make it to the little window of bank on the other side. It wasn’t a wide crossing, but this sucker was swift water. I would have been better off with a river raft and some paddles today. The guy watched me push into the swift water and quickly get whisked away from my target. He came in and grabbed my bike, ended up on the downstream side of it, so I was pulling with all my might to keep him from being knocked down and run over by my floating bike. His legs were pinned under the bike from the current, but we eventually got the bike to the bank. Little did I know this was the SAME guy in yellow rain gear that helped my on the earlier swift water traverse! I still owe him a six-pack!
I pulled up to the side of the trail and did the routine. By this time I was seeing some familiar faces on the drenched bodies and bikes leaving the banks heading for the trail. I left at 9:38 and it was now after 1:00. Had the weather been nice, I was scheduled to end the entire race just after 2:00. I’ve never been so soggy with cold river water for this length of time. The first deep water crossing recovery would have been a lot quicker had I known then what I know now.
I learned a LOT about river crossings at this one. With the help of my boyfriend, Robert, we promptly tore my bike down on Sun and got all the water out of the transmission oil, wheel bearings, linkage bearings, carb, everywhere. Regreased everything and I’m good to go for the next one. I’m not a bit hesitant of forging into deep water now – but only if my life depended on it!
Cindi Roberson
Orange KTM 200 Submarine