So this is it. After sitting on the sideline for year 1, laying in the hospital for year 2, I was determined to stand tall for year 3. I wont bore you with the details of the previous years (Finke Part 1: Finke Part 2 if you need to catch up), but for the 365 days leading up to the 2015 running of Finke, I ate, slept, and pre-ran this race. For a year I concentrated on my physical fitness and went from barely being able to walk to triathlon levels of strong. Multi-hour brick work outs of running/ biking or swimming/ running helped to get me to a level of fitness that I had not seen in a long time. When I combined my weekday bricks with weekend ¾ speed pre-running rides with my buddies my confidence levels shot up and by the end of it, I felt like I was ready to take on any challenge. Fast forward through all the workouts and pre-race crap and we arrive at race weekend; Friday June 5th 2015. My wife Wendy my friend Rob acting as my Alice Springs based pit crew, and I load up my trailer and took my race prepped Honda CRF450 X over to the Alice Springs Fair Grounds for tech inspection or Scrutineering. There we met our friend Alli who officially checked me in as a competitor and verified that all my riding gear met specs. With a thumbs up and a smile it's onto bike inspection. If you are following this saga you'll remember that this was my job during the 2013 Finke and I felt pretty confident that my bike would pass without a problem. Even still, Rob & Wendy carried a selection of tools, foam padding and zip ties just in case I needed to make a last second adjustment. Seeing familiar and friendly faces welcoming me into the inspection shed put me at ease and in a few short minuets I was through without any issues. For the rest of the night the three of us walked around talking with a few co-workers and friends who came by to wish me luck. Ate some good food, looked at the other bikes/ buggies and took pictures with people who were racing including this nut thats riding around the world on this bike then racing it : . The crowd was larger then it had been in the previous years and all I really enjoyed the spectacle of it all. Teams walking around flaunting their colours, mobs of people drinking having a good time and getting geared up for a weekend of racing. At 9 PM when they released the bikes from impound we loaded up the trailer and headed home. Saturday June 6th Prolog: As tradition dictates, racers get to vie for starting position by racing around an 8 Km or roughly 5 mile modified motocross track at the start/ finish line the day before the race begins. Starting around 7:30 AM, the buggies and trucks go first and those guys race flat out trying to get a front line position. The closer you get to the front, the less dust there is to deal with and it's a real advantage come race day. Because of this, there is guaranteed carnage and the prolog is always a fan favourite. Around 11:30 the bikes get a crack at it. Usually there is a sighting or parade lap that allows riders to view the track and gives the spectators a good look at all the riders. After the parade lap, most fans then head down South Road or the access road that parallels the Finke Track to set up their camps. This year however due to the sheer number of motorbike entries ( 600), the marshall of the course decided that the dust would be too much of an issue and the chances of a catastrophic accident would be too great so they axed it. The crowd was disappointed and most of them headed down the track a bit upset ( my wife and friends included). I was really pissed and got a bit nervous since I had never ridden the Prolog Track. Thus my one and only shot at qualifying would be a blind crap shoot. There were rumours that the front runners like Toby Price were given opportunities to ride electric mountain bikes on the course so they could memorise each turn and jump. Again... just rumours.... When it was my turn to go, I figured there was no reason to thrash myself or my bike so I treated like a parade lap. Took my time, waved to the few remaining fans and came back into the pit area without any dramas or with any chance of catching Toby Price's time of 5:07 ( mine was over 9 min). In any case it didn't matter, I was now officially seeded and had a start time of 1 PM the next day. Sunday June 6th Race Day 1: With my wife camping out at the 50 Km mark with some of our friends, it was a quiet morning in the Canoli house. I woke up after a good nights sleep thanks to my two separate alarm clocks and had a breakfast of hot oatmeal and even remembered to take out the garbage. Rob and his wife Ruth ( Official Team Canoli Pit Photographer) showed up to load the bike onto the trailer and we all drove out to the start line for the 9 AM riders brief. The riders briefing took place just as the first buggies and trucks were finishing up their run to Finke and the times were being posted on the big scoreboard. The numbers were really impressive and I saw that one finished up in something like 1 hour 47 min. I also noticed that my buddy Cooke who was racing in his Hyabusa powered buggy had a DNF next to his name and I felt really sorry for him. I knew how hard he had worked over the past few years and was really cheering for him to do well. ( I later got word that he was OK but had hit a tree 50 Km's out and took out his front end) The briefing was pretty standard stuff, motorcycling is dangerous, you could get hurt, this is what this sign and flag means... bla bla bla.. The only bit of news to come out of it was that instead of having a cut off time of 4 hours, the time was extended to 4 ½ hours. We were told that the reason for this was the excessive dusty and the number of motorcycles participating was double the normal amount. Previous race veterans were visually angered by this as they thought it took away from tradition. However I was relieved to know that if things went to shit, that I still would have a comfortable time buffer to fall back on. Nerves and adrenalin were starting to get the best of me, but friends of mine who came to watch the start talked me down, asked questions about the race, the bike and what my strategy was. We all walked to the start line to watch the first 10 or 20 guys ride off and then headed back to the pit area to get my hands taped and suit up. I arrived at the line-up about 40 min before I was scheduled to start when I noticed that people in my moto were well forward of where they were supposed to be. When I asked the starting marshall what was going on, he said Just line up anywhere and go. So much for starting in your qualifying group. A bunch of us grouped together and figured it out and soon it was 3-2-1 green light GO! My start was less then awesome as I hit a rut just after the line and almost took out the guy next to me. Waved my hand as an apology then I was off and running in the 2015 Finke Desert Race. The first 4Km's of the track are actually on a part of the Prolog track and as I had memories of watching some riders during the 2014 race stack it in the first few turns I took it nice and easy. Once around the back end of the Prolog track a red arrow pointed the way out. I crossed the old Gann Railroad Tracks and was finally into the open desert. I shifted gear, opened the throttle and dust flew from my back wheel as I accelerated down the track. My friend Mark who was camping just outside the gate took this shot of me at that exact moment. I don't remember seeing him, but I remember how relieved I felt seeing the familiar race track splayed out in front of me. I had ridden this first part of the actual Finke course hundreds of times during the past three years and I was thrilled to be finally riding it for real. At first the dust wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be and the track surface was in good shape. I started ticking off sections of track that I remembered as I sped into the desert. Quick on the throttle past the parking lot and old start ramp into rutted left hander, into fast right to lumpy tree lined section, to very sandy wooded left hander with upside down Commodore smashed on the right side ( why would they not clear that car away?). Past the 20 Km marker, onto the baseball sized rock strewn portion and the illegal motocross track were we sometimes go riding on the weekend, into the red sand bits, past the gate that is usually wired shut and up and over the 25 Km sand dune that tried to kill me last year. Past 2 more big red dunes lined with crazy drunk screaming and cheering crowds, over a few small sections of whoops, up the big lumpy death trap 40 Km sand dune and down past the off road racing club. I was feeling the grove but trying unsuccessfully to control the massive hit of adrenalin that was flowing through my blood. I was feeling great, the bike was behaving itself and all was right in the world. As I headed over yet another sand dune I saw a HUGE blur of colourful signs, lots of people waving and cheering. It was the main group of friends and my wife who camped in that spot to cheer me on. Seeing them for that brief instant was such an emotional hit. It made me feel like a million bucks. About 10 Km later I was settling in, my mussels were feeling warmed up and my head was cooling down when I blew past a small group of people that I could have sworn yelled my name. Sure enough it was a group of friends that were cheering me on and they snapped a few pics from both sides of the track. At the 68 Km mark it was time for my first fuel stop. These stops are manned by volunteers who are really great people. They camp out in the middle of no where for 2 days, set up the stops and take care of the riders for nothing more then a thank you from those they help. This first stop was being run by members of NORFORCE (North-West Mobile Force) an infantry regiment of the Australian Army Reserve. They had me re-fulled, goggles cleaned and on my way in less then one min. Very fast and very efficient. Could not have asked for better or quicker service. The next section of track just through the Deep Well Checkpoint is a mix of red sand and baby head sized rocks. LOADS of cheering, excited people lined this section including two people that were dressed as Bananas in Pyjamas. Things were going great and I was looking forward to getting past the 80 Km marker where I thought I would really be able to open the throttle and make up some time. But when I got to around 75 Km's the dust really started to become a factor. There was no breeze to clear the gathering dust clouds and the track conditions got very dangerous very quickly. It was like I was riding though a massive snow storm. At times I could not see the track, the trees to tell me where the track MIGHT be, or even my feet to help me figure out if I was still on the track. Instead of riding in 5th gear wide open, I was idling in 1st hoping that the people behind me weren't going to smash into me. When I got to the next checkpoint at Rodinga Siding the dust lifted for a bit and I was able to get back onto the throttle. Soon after I came upon the portion of track that had given me nightmares for the last 2 years. There is a set of step ups or back to back to back short steep hills that are filled with sharp irregular bowling ball sized boulders and have ruts carved into concrete like mud. This day however, the concrete mud had been pulverised into a fine talcum powder and the boulders were rolling around under the weight of my bike. I couldn't see, couldn't balance and next thing I knew I was on my ass looking at 5 other racers doing the exact same things. We all had a laugh asked each other if we were alright, picked our bikes up and kept on going until fuel stop # 2 . This is the same fuel stop that I volunteered at in 2013 and it was good to see that it was being manned by the same group of search and rescue folks that I had worked with before. Once again my goggles were cleaned and my bike re-fueled in about a minute. Track conditions were constantly bad from that point on and the whoops were beginning to take their toll on my body but I knew that I had to keep pushing in order to make Finke before the cutoff time. At fuel stop 3 I had no idea who was manning it, but they held my bike for me as I took 30 seconds to stretch my legs and eat a power gel. A few Km's later as I headed up a steep and rocky hill there was a group of spectators camping on the very edge of the track and I rode right into their sun shade tent. Dropping the bike to make sure I didn't kill anyone they asked me if I was OK. Laughing my head off I yelled Nope not at all. We picked the bike up, I got back on and they asked Are you sure your are OK? I continued laughing and said I told you no Whoo HOO!! big burst of throttle through a shower of spraying beer and loud cheers and I was back at it. 5 or 10 Km's later my front tire slipped out from under me for seemingly no reason and I went down HARD. For a brief second I thought I broke my arm, but then the thought of being run over by a rider that I just passed forced me to jump up and get back on the bike. With my right arm throbbing in pain I rode on until I came upon the largest, tallest section of whoops that has ever existed. When I saw them I yelled and cursed out loud and fought the urge to quit. But I held my line, held my speed and soon found salvation in the open road segment that I was looking for. Although the dust and poor surface condition limited my speed to 130 KPH it felt like I was flying. As I came around the last corner just as I went through the dry Finke River Bed a bike went whizzing past me and into a grove of trees at full speed. I'm not sure what happened to the rider but I hope whoever it was survived with minor injuries. Once through the river bed I passed a small group of spectators that I would find out later was actually my pit crew cheering me on. Over the last jump, and through the Finke finish line in a time of 4 hours and 7 minutes. My Finke Pit Crew made up of my good friends Pete, Denise and Helen met me at the finish line and helped to get me back in shape for day 2. They had driven out to set up camp the night before and had everything waiting for me when I arrived. Hot food, cold Gatorade and a roaring fire. They helped to tighten things up on my bike, talked about what I just accomplished and gave me the courage and energy to get back on the bike for day 2. End Race Day 1 (I'll post more in a few days):
Love your work! Great to meet up with you Josh (even though it was briefly), you where so pumped! Top images. Waiting for the story of the return leg.... Pete
Is this the rut after the start you are taling about?! https://youtu.be/0ktyC0fw7ZQ?t=23s (23sec) Great report. How come that the average speed is pretty low, dust and whoops? Looking at the pictures and videos it looks like a lot of >100km/h stretches.
That was a pretty good spill and glad the rider got right back up, but no the rut I was talking about was one of the ones right at the start line. The speeds for us mortals has to do in part to the dust and the fact that 85 % of the track is whoops, but there is also a self preservation factor built in. I saw no fewer then 5 riders being tended to by medics, and one being choppered out. This track is fregin brutal.
. I was really pissed and got a bit nervous since I had never ridden the Prolog Track. Thus my one and only shot at qualifying would be a blind crap shoot. There were rumours that the front runners like Toby Price were given opportunities to ride electric mountain bikes on the course so they could memorise each turn and jump. Again... just rumours.... In previous years the ASMCC (local motorcycle club) used to organize a Finke Prologue test day around Easter- a little help for the local riders Was that not available this year? And doing a sighting lap of the prologue track on a mountain bike on Wednesday/Thursday before the race used to be a must even for us mortals when I used to race- and no one would have known if we had an electric helper (but these gadgets were not available 10 years ago
Funny story about the one day we were allowed to pre-run the Prolog course, no one in the Finke organisation nor the Alice springs motorcycle club would give any firm date until about 10 days before. By then my work schedule was set and I could not get out of it. So yes they do allow for a day, but I just could not attend. I'll be posting about race day 2 as soon as I can get to a real computer. I'm traveling around WA for the next few days. Thanks, Canoli
Great stuff, Canoli. Your writing brought back some vivid memories of this race for me. Love it. Like being young again. Look forward to the next "run home".
Day 2 started early but not because I wanted it to. The V8 powered buggies echoed to life sometime around 4:30 AM and no one riding a motorcycle was happy to hear them. My body and mind were still in recovery mode from the thrashing that the track had given them the day before and it was all I could do to muster the strength to climb out of my warm sleeping bag and into the dawns first light in order to make a few last adjustments to the bike. Powering up on a breakfast of bananas and oatmeal my team helped me into my gear and got me to the pre-race briefing. The day 2 briefing was even more useless then the day 1 speech and nothing of any value was discussed. The only thing this colossal waste of time did was leave hundreds of riders in the hot sun searching for shade and reiterate what was talked about the previous day. Mercifully the time finally came for the bikes to start and every single rider stopped what they were doing to watch Toby Price rocket off the line. He was wide open in 3rd gear before he left the starting area. That guy is a freak of nature and one hell of a rider. One by one the top 20 finishers from the day before left the line, then it was in groups of 10. My starting field was once again towards the back so I took my time wandering over to the grid. Once lined up I noticed that the guy next to me was having some major problems with his bike. It was puking oil all over the place and smoke was pouring from the engine. When I asked what the problem was he said that he thought it was the valves but that he didnt have time or tools to fix it. I wished him luck and a safe ride back to Alice. Before I knew it, it was time to race; 3,2,1 GO! With the wave of a green flag my group shot out of the start area and I was immediately hit by a flying stone on the knuckle of my left had. Pain! I was pissed and determined to pass the fucker that did it. Getting out of Finke was tougher then getting in as the track was in really bad shape, but I settled in and once across the river I opened up the throttle and sped down the open road. The night before, one of my pit crew members in an effort to force me to relax, asked me to talk my way though the entire course. And as I exited the fast section, I began to speak out loud and tick off each portion. Left turn off the road and into HUGE whoops, past the big sandy high banked turns...etc.. As I came around one particularly un interesting and very desolate part of the course I caught a glimpse of a man on the side of the track wearing what appeared to be a bright yellow rain coat running full speed towards me. This was really strange as there was no other vehicle or camp anywhere in sight. I slowed down to see what was going on and at that exact moment he stopped dead in his tracks and flashed the coat open to reveal a condom fully inflated with air and he began gyrating. It was all I could do to not laugh myself off the bike. Made it to fuel stop 3 without any dramas and I was feeling confident that I would make the 4 ½ hour cut off time. Onto the fast straight, thought yet another long section of whoops, past the Bundooma Water Tank checkpoint, onto the road for a few seconds then a left turn back into more whoops, down some steep and sandy hills and fuel stop 2. My hands were now almost useless and unable to make a strong fist so when I needed to eat some of the power gels I had with me, I tore them open with my teeth then with the open end in my mouth, clap my hands together on the the other end so I could get the food out of the sachet. Deep breath and onto the hardest part of the track. The step ups that tripped me up on day 1 were once again the bane of my existence and I soon found myself in the middle of a pile up on a heap of rocks with near zero visibility. I picked the bike up, narrowly missed a rider who went down right in front of me and somehow made it though without killing myself or anyone else. The visibility past the Rodinga checkpoint was even worse then the day before and I was getting very upset that this normally fast section of track was now one of the slowest. When the massive dust clouds would temporarily part, I would go as fast as I dared to go all the while passing riders being tended to by medical personnel and other signs of carnage including wrecked bikes and a few twisted buggies. When I hit the 70 Km mark I once again saw the guys dressed as Bananas In Pyjamas and knew that I was close to home. Across the road where the volunteers had stopped traffic ( thanks guys) and the folks at Fuel stop 1 greeted me like a long lost friend. When I asked what time it was they told me 4:09 PM. This, the final stretch of track was my home turf. I pre-ran hundreds this section of times during the past two years and I knew that I could ride 68 Km's in an hour...if the track or my bike didn't try to kill me. Over the HUGE sand dunes, though the long section of small whoops and onto the hard pack white sandy portion of the track . The course was in horrible condition but I knew where I could go fast, and where I needed to pull it back a bit. When I made it over the 30 Km sand dune that caused my crash last year it felt fantastic and I yelled in my helmet cleared it as loud as I could. If there had been anyone around they might have thought that I had lost my mind. Past the open gate and into a sharp and slippery right hander SLAM! Like a bad movie with less then 20 Km until the finish I went down hard when my wheel slipped out from under me again. Just as I went to stand up my leg cramped and I could not move. Another rider narrowly missed me as I was laying on the ground. Pissed as hell I punched the back of my leg as hard as I could and got the cramp out, stood up grabbed the bike and... fell over again.....crap I hate being short sometimes. Ran the bike to the INSIDE portion of the banked turn and hopped back on. All sorts of thoughts went racing though my head and not all of them were positive. I knew I was going to be close to the cut off, but I was determined to not let the clock beat me. Past the wooded rutted sandy bits, past the parking lot where we usually start our weekend rides and into the stadium. With huge dust clouds and the setting sun now completely obscuring my vision, I fought to stay on track when all of the sudden I saw one of my friends kids holding a sign and I heard a crowd cheering, SHIT thats a bleacher section, hard left turn then a slow right and then.... nothing. There was nothing in front of me except the finish line and I grabbed a hand full of throttle and crossed the line. At that exact moment two separate friends who could not make it to the event were watching the live web feed and just happen to have their cell phones on to record the moment ( thanks Tim & Mark) . ( the first 7 seconds is me.) <iframe frameborder="0" scrolling="no" width="425" height="236" src="https://api.smugmug.com/services/embed/4130706785_h6sbkRg?width=425&height=236"></iframe> Through the finishing chute and my buddy Rob is the first to greet me. I asked him the time and it was 5:09. I made it! This is a picture of that exact moment: Two seconds later I collapsed in disbelief and I was completely over come with emotion: My wife was right there yelling You made it! You did it! and I held onto her for all it was worth: I was nasty, dirty, exhausted, shattered, could barely stand or make a fist but beyond any level of happy that I had felt in years. It had taken me 3 years, over $20,000, 4 nights in a hospital, 3 engine re-builds and countless sleepless nights to get to this point. With the help of my friends I had earned my survivor spike. What a great feeling. To push myself beyond what I thought was possible and complete a challenge that seemed almost impossible the previous year. Thanks to all my friends who supported me and to those of you on Team Canoli for your help. I could not have done it without you. Period. So whats next? My CRF 450X is now for sale at Desert Edge Honda, Alice Springs and I pick up my new ride in August. Thanks for reading. Canoli
Top report! Go the underdog privateer. Great achievement to finish. So, getting a Triumph Tiger are we? (That's what all the cool retired racers do)...
Nah thats a bit to $$ for me. I've got my DR 650 and the new KTM 250 4 strokes are looking rather nice or perhaps an old school VW Baja Bug . But then again so is this:
