Slimy, slithery Carolina

In contrast to the past couple posts, this ones pretty short. Given the nature of Cross Country, its actually amazing we have the pics we do, and to have large quantities is definitely rare. Anyway, hard on the heels of Gatorback was the next race up in Fountain Inn SC. It was the first Carolinas White Lighting, a two day event put on by Greg Holder, Al Roof and their brood. There were four of us that met up for this one: Max, Jay, Chad (still burdened by a BSA single), and me. We arrived in the middle of the night surprised at how cold it was, only to get to wake up to the surprise of how cold AND rainy it was. A sane person would've crawled back in his sleeping bag and gotten someone to bring back breakfast....instead, we got suited up and headed out for the sighting lap. It became evident pretty quick that the weather had taken its toll on the course. What was probably a nice, hard packed solid surface just a day before was now slippery and slushy. The sighting lap was pretty horrible, one climb in particular I was greeted by Jay and some other riders waving us off the marked line, which was so slimy and chewed up it was already nearly impassable. A sane person would have gone to find some BBQ and beer in a warm dry place...instead we lined up for the start. Chad was nowhere to be seen, his ignition had packed up on the sighting lap...again, so a shivering Max, Jay, and I readied for the off. It was bad. Just from the sighting lap the course was chewed up and sloppy, with roots peeking up out of the mud and a true variety of clays, muds, and gloop of every color and consistency on offer.

At first I could at least see, but as the rain kept falling first the goggles got crud covered and unuseable, then the glasses. It didn't help that every time the bike got stuck or stopped a cloud of steam would waft up from the engine completely fogging my glasses. I finally gave up and just took my glasses off, deciding a fuzzy view was better than a completely obscured one.

Jay survived a lap and then his survival instincts kicked in and he got off the bike just past the timing tent and lay down on the ground. I had no such sense. For reasons I can't explain, I went back out. I couldn't see, my tires were loaded up and not grabbing at all, and the constant battling with the big Triumph was taking its toll and I was making mistakes. At one point in a V shaped trough thing the bike just went, leaving my leg pinned under the stonkin' hot head. With nothing to grab onto and unable get traction with hands or boots, the head started cooking its way through my soaked pant leg sending me into something of a frantic scramble to get my left leg onto the top of the seat to sorta kick myself free. Eeeesh.

Max was holding up better, he's a smoother rider, so wasn't getting as worn out. Which was great because it meant he had some spare energy when he came around to lap me at the bottom of a red clay uphill chute I was having no luck with whatsoever. Perhaps it was cruelty on his part, but he helped me get up the climb meaning I had to keep going...cruel indeed.

Max got around that lap and finished, even with his tires loaded up and looking like they were actually made of adobe

I was done, but still out on the course. I had fried my clutch, my brakes were pretty much gone and I really just wanted to get out more than finish. When I came to the hill that had already been a disaster on the sighting lap, and just couldn't get up it, I was just too tired to wrestle it up that climb. Just as I was about to bag it and walk out Max came back down the trail to find me and got my bike up the hill, prolly more because he felt bad for the bike than me. With that, I headed out. We all had hypothermia, so we retired to a hotel for warm showers, comfy beds, decent Mexican food and beer. We headed back in the morning for day two, which Max was actually going to run, to find it still raining and the days racing called. Which was fine with me, because even if my clutch hadn't been a charcoal briquette I was done for the weekend. Even a couple years on its still the nastiest thing I've ridden, mainly because of the combination of slimy course and a lack of experience on my part. Little did I know rain was going to be a near constant companion for the rest of the season. Maybe those desert racers were onto something....