Can you see that? -- the partially blind Barking Spider Bash

Every race scene has its own personality. Saturday was our first trip to the greater-Boise scene at the Barking Spider Bash, held at an OHV park somewhere south of Canyon County sprawlness. The motorheads and complete lack of any vegetation taller than 2 feet were a bit different than recent experience; the posturing on the start line was about the same. I guess that's not entirely true. This year with the new race categories, there was a new flavor to the posturing. The guy next to me spent the 10 minutes or so that we were lined up prior to the start talking loudly about how he didn't want to spend $150 on a license, which I guess was his explanation for why he wasn't lining up with the 7 or so "pro" riders like he really should have been, of course, were this all based on talent and not how much you are willing to spend on your license. Nice $5k bike by the way. And where did you spend the rest of the race?

In any event, my "wow, these guys look fast" paranoia was turned up to 11 (you'd think that would dissipate with time and several hundred races), and I am impressed by the nearly 40 guys lined up in the Expert field. Luckily, I had run into fellow GT DC rider Ivan Anderholm before the start, so I at least feel like there is one friendly face in the field. After a completely unnecessary 50m neutral start (to make it around an apparently dangerous first corner), we are off. The first 1/2 mile or so roll into a stiff wind, so I sit in near the front until we turn away from the wind. At that point, I can't ignore my Wisco training and fear of getting blocked up at the turn into the first tight area, so I move to the front and hit it (not knowing anything about the course, of course). I hear a rider behind me, so I figure I'm pulling the field. But it is a cross wind and I have the proper side of the trail, so I don't stress too much.

Then we turn right, I look back, and two of us already have about 100m on the field. It's hard to say this after only 4 minutes of a 2 hour race, but that was the race.

Ok, that's a lie. We ride away from the rest of the boys (at least a little bit), cross the road, and then begin the fairly long climb up to the top of the course. I'm feeling ok, he's sucking wheel, and I'm successfully ignoring the impulse to see what our gap is. But then we hit the top, turn back around into the wind to begin the decent and my left contact comes out of my eye.

This wasn't a great course to roll one eyed. I try for a while, but finally tell the guy to pass me and get a rollin'. I stop to grab the contact off my sunglasses and try to put it back in my eye, but after a couple of failed attempts, the wind blows it away. By this time, I've obviously lost the leader and the guy in third has caught me, but I figure there's nothing else to do but ride.

And that's pretty much it. I drop the guy in third and spend the next 25 miles dangling about 45 seconds off the leader. I close a bit on the climbs, and then he opens it back up on the decent. We had already caught 4 of the 7 pros half way through the first lap, so there wasn't anything else to chase, and I ride home solo and happy not to have addressed the sand in a more personal way.



Of course, after finishing the race, I go back to the car and spend the next 20 minutes trying to coax a 3 year old into letting me remove a bunch of stickers from his palm. He was proud of me though.

First in age, 2nd overall Expert, 5th overall (about 2 min. 14 seconds off the pro winner). Not a bad day for my first day on a mountain bike this year.

And we got to spend Sunday at the zoo. The monkey liked the tigers and the gibbons the best. I agree about the gibbons.