Well, after a fashion, anyway. I came in last, but I do get the Good Samaritan award.
I hadn't ever seen this riding area before, so my first lap (about 8 miles) was really slow just figuring out where to go. It was a lot like an 8-mile motocross track in the desert with deep sand in the berms, fist sized rocks (Don took one on the foot from someone's roost), hard packed grass/soil and gravel access roads. A little bit of everything, but mostly it was a lot of up and down. I picked up the speed and did well my 2nd lap. The race was to be 4 laps total (around 32 miles).
But on my 3rd lap, I came up on a scary near-vertical pitch about 15 feet high, and nearly hit a girl (maybe 14) mostly under her bike screaming bloody murder. I mean really screaming like a femur was broke or something, really hysterical. Oh crap! Two riders passed me while I was passing her and didn't stop. I just couldn't keep going. It would have haunted me if I had.
I got to a mostly flat spot, parked the bike and jogged back to her. She was knealing in the tumbleweeds by now but still screaming. I yelled Are you hurt? (duh! I know). No break in the screaming. I shouted again in my best Angry Mom voice TELL ME ARE YOU HURT!
Total silence. "Uh, no." pause... But I CAN'T GET MY BIKE UP! Back to the screaming. Good grief! I slowly realize that this is about a 11-year-old BOY and the only reason he is screaming is because his bike is stuck. I should have got back on my bike and kept going but I was now involved. So I told him to take a time out (I really did) and gather his strength.
His bike was on its side with the seat slightly downhill from the wheels. It was apparent that he had made it 90% of the way up this steep vertical, the front tire had made it over the lip, then he killed it and fell over into the ditch full of tumbleweeds to the side.
We heaved his bike (it was a 150R) up onto two wheels, but because he wasn't listening to me, he forgot to grab the front brake, and with the rear tire still on the vert the bike started rolling back down the slope. Thank heavens the track worker showed up at that very moment and kept it from becoming a total disaster. I left the two of them, and before I could get back on my own bike, he roosted me as he went past me. Humph!
After that I was way too spent and way too far behind to get the 4th lap in without holding up the next race so I pulled off.
I'm eager to go back and try this again. They hold 3 or 4 enduros every year, I'm told, so I will practice up for the next one. I can't wait. And next time, I won't stop for no screaming little brats!
Now a firm believer in neck braces! Don't look at the ruts; don't look at the ruts; don't look at the ruts...