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We ran from Ensenada to La Paz with Wayne and Christine Matlock. It was dusty and had very little sleep.
"Although she is small, she is fierce."
At least, I think this is what I quoted when I wrote almost illegible graffiti in notes about 1,140 miles on the second night of the Baja 1000 in 2021. It was getting dark and we walked about 15 miles of racecourse along a passing dirt road. About 32 hours after the start of the previous day, the mechanic had just repaired the shock absorber of Wayne Matlock's UTV (Multi-Purpose Terrain Vehicle), which was the third shock absorber repair for the competition. Just looking at the math above gives me a headache. It may explain to some extent why my notes are Shakespeare’s and are scattered with food stains.
What I want to say is that small but intense things are a mystery to my sleeping brain. Things are small. What is ferocious. This description applies to Wayne’s wife, Christine, who drove her Polaris RZR through the entire race. At the time, she was a few hours behind Wayne, and she had some mechanical difficulties herself, but according to the tracker, she was absolutely dragging her ass at an incredible speed.
Or am I talking about mosquitoes on trucks? I really can't slap it, there is no room to wave my arm in the compact cab. However, I think I’m talking about Baja itself, a small, bold piece of land protruding south of San Diego, parallel to mainland Mexico, introducing an entrance to the Pacific Ocean into the Gulf of California. Baja is connected to two countries, reflecting the cultural influence of the two countries, but also has its own personality. It's really small and fierce.
Since 1967, attempts to tame the Baja Desert through motorized transportation have officially taken place, but even now, in 2021, with GPS screens, satellite radios, chasing trucks, chasing planes and chasing helicopters, SCORE Baja 1000’s DNF list It is two pages long. Broken cars, crashed trucks, lost routes, and lost hearts, Baja sets up physical and mental barriers on the roads of any brave and stupid person, trying to make uninterrupted high-speed travel in the wilderness.
This is especially true in 2021, when the curriculum runs through the entire peninsula. In other years, the 1,000-mile route (the distance is a trade-off, as low as 800 miles and as high as 1,679 miles) runs in a circular formation, starting and ending in Ensenada. From a logistical point of view, the loop is obviously easier, but despite or possibly due to additional challenges, one-way operation still has a romantic feel. To do this, you need to carefully schedule pit stops, team-wide communication, and a lot of caffeine. Matlocks equips each racer with two special trucks and a sweeper as a spare. All of them returned with satisfaction. Once we start driving, none of us will stop for longer than changing tires or repairing. Rather than jumping, it is more chasing, pushing and pulling, jumping forward, and then falling behind. Every pit stop on the track requires a support truck. Endurance car hopscotch.
To really understand the Baja 1000 chase experience, you should read the rest of this article in the next 40 hours, from the middle seat of the Ford F-250 between two very beautiful racing mechanics who have not had a shower recently. At some point, you can take a nap under the rock. Check the scorpion first. Or don't, you are tired.
My notes started neatly from the top of the Baja Peninsula, where I was invited to ride one of the chasing trucks with the husband and wife team of Matlock Racing. Matlocks is a racing driver sponsored by the Polaris factory. They have won many UTV championships and championships. The first few pages I have are detailed information about their car-her RZR XP 1000 and the RZR Pro R just released for him. The new Pro R is a big deal in side-by-side circles. During a technical inspection the day before the race, Wayne’s blue and white machines were crowded with people, many of which were other UTV-level competitors, who wanted to take a closer look at the 2.0-liter four-cylinder engine and sturdy suspension. Even for those who are not familiar with recreational off-road vehicles, the Pro R stands out. In the smaller, more wagon-like Can-Ams and older Polaris models, it is a formidable tall spider. The RZR Pro R was only announced a few days before the Baja race, and there were a large number of Polaris engineers and Matlock's usual chasers to support the new car-and be aware of any shortcomings. Baja is good at spotting any shortcomings. In fact, this is how the 1000 started, as a way for manufacturers to prove that their bicycles, cars, and trucks can do it.
Today, there are not many factories for top Trophy trucks, but at the UTV level, there is fierce competition and strong manufacturer support. "For Trophy trucks, we used to have manufacturers like Ford, Chevrolet, Dodge, Toyota, but UTV still has manufacturers involved," said Rob MacCachren, who is celebrating his overall victory with Luke McMillin and the Trophy truck team. . Most of us have completed more than half of the course. "To win in a Trophy truck, you almost have to own a multi-million-dollar all-wheel drive truck, a helicopter, and an airplane all night. Using UTV obviously helps, but there are many other things. Strategy. ." Then he asked me questions about the new Pro R. "I tried to see it before the race, I stopped at the store where they prepared it, but they wouldn't let me check it. Honestly, it was incredible. Someone in my preliminaries would spend about £125-those Pro Rs It's faster and more capable than my car." If you plan to challenge Rob Mac, Pro R starts at $32,000.
Oh, but I have skipped it because MacCachren's notes start at the end, with all the drama in the middle. I was on the second chasing truck, which means our first pit stop was about 70 miles at the start of the race. It's a "vision", just looking at it as the car passes by and reporting to the other truck that the wheels are still connected and everything is going according to plan. In case they don't have one, we must be prepared to make a proper pit stop, which means that jacks and axle kits are ready, and the fuel crew is suitable and in place. Refueling a car is dangerous, and dripping on the hot exhaust gas rises instantly. We saw it had a pit-luckily they solved it before anything or anyone was damaged. Our own drama is less intense: the fancy jack extension does not match the fancy jack. "There was a problem packing multiple trucks," said driver John Barr. Polaris engineer Matt Kmecik and crew Marco Perez carefully processed it on the tailgate. By careful processing, I mean, sand it off with an angle grinder until it fits. When Wayne entered the range, our celebration was interrupted by the crackling noise on the radio. "Everything is fine," he said, and after a few seconds he passed by us and disappeared into a cloud of dust. However, our work will come in handy later-we ended up making good use of the jack.
For most of the race, our perception of the car was like a cloud of dust. Exciting jumps and breathtaking scenery take place in the dirt, so chasing a race from a parallel highway is a bit like chasing a Road Runner: there is no form, just lingering evidence in the distance, proving that something flies quickly . In the night part, the car looks like fireflies, flashing lights in the dark. It looks very peaceful from a distance, the desert likes to play tricks, butterflies hovering on the bones. For racers, there are some parts that impact suspension parts and human body parts. During the day, the dust suffocated the air, and at night, as the coastal fog enveloped the cacti, the dust turned into mud. At one stop, the fog was so dense that we could hardly see the coming cars. When Wayne drove in, he and the navigator made crazy gestures until I found out that they wanted a dry cloth to wipe their sun visors, which became opaque due to the damp dust.
As with any endurance task, as time and miles pass, we develop a chasing rhythm. The sun goes down, the sun rises, stops, sets, waits, fills up, cleans up, and returns to the road. The memory becomes blurred, from the timeline to the snapshot. The sunset was so dramatic, it filled every window of the truck, and the 360-degree sky was burning. A Trophy truck parked next to us. The crew was frantically trying to fix things on the floor. One crew member lowered his head from the window and his feet swayed above the roof line. Entering Loreto through the mountain pass, you can see the green and calm sea. Repair vibration. Fix the vibration again. Then, it ends. Somehow, 1227 miles became 100 miles, then 10 miles, and then we were there, 33 hours after we set off, hugging Tecates on the finish line ramp midnight and lukewarm while waiting for Christine. She did it too, staying in the car for less than 37 hours. Baja, the fierce Baja, was tamed until the next time.