Breauxman live is the only place to watch this...
C/o Kevin Ward
... right now heading back across to the Pacific - it is one of the most desolate spots on the peninsula. You can see the distant lights of ranch houses, and maybe an occasional huddle of people around a fire as you fly by in the night. When they get a little more drunk as it gets later and farther south, they will start throwing old tires on their bonfires for fun. When the tire smoke drifts across the course, or worse yet, straight down the course, it gets knarly. You go through the dense smoke completely blind, eyes burning, and holding your breath, waiting for clean air again. The silt beds are over for now. They battled some good ones coming into Rancho Quarenta, and some other pockets up north. There are some huge silt beds waiting farther south though. You try to remember your lines in the dark, but all the prerunners from the day before have beat them into even worse shape. You hit something so big in the ocean of silt, you can't imagine you emerge with air in your front tire. Once in the clear the road is hard pack and undulating. Down in the valleys the temps drop a full 10 degrees, and warm back up when you climb. Lucky tonight as the marine layer hasn't rolled in yet. First bike through has a huge advantage when the fog is in. Mix dust with fog and you have airborne mud. Off camber corners make you feel like the bike isn't working at all. And leaned over in the corners, when you catch an imbedded rock, your ride almost gets taken out from under you. Checking in with yourself. Breathing. Relaxing your hands. Take a drink of water. When is your next pit? Is that a whiff of dust just now?? Was that a local crossing the road in his car? Or am I catching him? Good time to chase him down in this cross wind. Hunting dust now. Taking it a little deeper into every corner. Holding it as open as you can on every exit. You'll get a new tire soon anyway. Focus.