Part 1 - Dax & Dean of the "Shake & Bake" Team Pedal To Victory
Every year, thousands gather to watch the most exciting off-road bicycle race in the world. Join us, as we review the excitement of the 2008 24 Hours of Moab.
Moab, Utah - October 12, 2008
After midnight in Moab, it is 39 f degrees outside,
but the wind chill on exposed human flesh feels like
34 f degrees. To the north, in Montana, Idaho
and Wyoming, a major winter snowstorm rages. Although
no precipitation has fallen here in the past five days,
the storm to the north is acting like an atmospheric
vacuum cleaner, pulling in strong winds from the south.
Watch the Video, "24 Hours of Moab, 2008"
At Noon Saturday,
the thirteenth annual
Suzuki “24 Hours of Moab” mountain bike race began
at its traditional course
“Behind the Rocks”, ten miles south of Moab.
For those who do not know, the “24 Hours of Moab” is
the premier endurance race of its kind. For all
of those years,
Laird Knight and his
Granny Gear
Productions has been the driver behind this event.
As the huge regional storm was building
to the north on Friday night, thousands of mountain
bike racers and race fans made camp on a former cattle-grazing
land near the Start/Finish line. As they spent
the night in tents near the course, I slept in my heated
travel trailer, at the full-service
Moab Rim Campark, ten
miles away. Even in my sheltered spot, I awakened
several times overnight, fearful that my trailer might
blow over in the wind. I can only imagine how
little sleep the racers and fans may have gotten in
their campground that night.
On Saturday morning, I drove to the race
site, intent upon finding the two-man
Bach Builders Team,
also known as
“Team Shake & Bake”, comprised of
Dax Massey of Boulder and Dean Miller of Littleton,
Colorado. Having met both men in the parking lot
of a Moab supermarket the previous day, I wanted to
photograph and interview them before the start of their
24-hour race. Upon my arrival at the camp and
racecourse, the thousands of tents, bikes and racers
made me realize that finding Dax and Dean was unlikely.
As the minutes counted
down to race time, the winds built up in equal measure. Sweeping winds alternated with
vortices of super-fine red dust. Almost immediately, the actuator on my digital camera
developed a gritty feel. Looking like bandits or bank robbers, many of the fans around me wore
bandanas over their noses and mouths. After realizing that the western bandana is really an early type of filtration device, I lamented the fact that I had left mine at home.
The race includes an exciting
“LeMans Start”, patterned after the classic sports
car race of old. Rather than running to their
sports cars, our bike racers first ran one hundred yards
out, then one hundred yards back, before jumping on
their bikes and pedaling away.
With the strong wind and the loud public
address system whipping up the crowd, the race start
was pure pandemonium. Crowd control broke down,
with fans, photographers and racers intermingling like
Native Americans stampeding a herd of American Bison
toward at cliff.
I would like to say that after the race
started that the dust cleared, but it
did not. After
the racers pedaled furiously away, the PA announcer
told us that we would not see the leaders return from
their fifteen-mile loop for about an hour. Being
a long distance bike-racing fan is like working for
the CIA. There is endless boredom, punctuated
by occasional action, when the riders return.
If the race itself is a test of endurance, for fans
it is a test of dedication.
did not. After
the racers pedaled furiously away, the PA announcer
told us that we would not see the leaders return from
their fifteen-mile loop for about an hour. Being
a long distance bike-racing fan is like working for
the CIA. There is endless boredom, punctuated
by occasional action, when the riders return.
If the race itself is a test of endurance, for fans
it is a test of dedication.
Since I am a math whiz, I realized that
at the pace of one lap per hour, I would see each of
my favorite team riders not more than twelve times over
the 24-hour period. After eating more dust than
ever before in my life, I decided to leave the scene,
planning to return for the final hour of racing, late
Sunday morning.
Why would so many people brave such hardships
to participate in or watch a 24-hour bike race on a
remote, windswept mesa? The roots of off-road
bicycle racing go back to the late 1960s, when a few
intrepid souls raced up (or was it down) Mount Tamalpais,
in Marin County, California. Not to be outdone,
young men and women throughout the Rocky Mountain region
took up the sport in the 1980s and 1990s. Now
that it is a mature, if niche sport, off-road bicycle
endurance racing appears to attract participants in
their late twenties to their early forties. There
are younger and older participants, but the core group
has “Generation X” (for extreme?) written all over them.
As I complete and post this article,
the high, cold mesa is still a beehive of activity,
with racers, volunteers and support staff monitoring
the ongoing race. As I prepare to retire, it reminds
me that Dax and Dean will have little rest again tonight.
Only when one passes their team baton to the other,
can the first rider rest for an hour or two, depending
on their riding schedule.
I forgot to mention that when I met Dean
on Friday afternoon, an injury to his right hand and
wrist prevented him from offering me a traditional handshake.
Undaunted, Dax and Dean planned to come in first in
their self-supported Duo-Pro class. If they finish
at all, they will be my heroes. As I write this
article, time wears on. According to current race
results provided by
www.grannygear.com,
Bach Builders/Team Shake & Bake is currently in thirteenth
place overall and they are first in the Duo-Pro category.
While they clocked early laps at one hour, eleven minutes,
their after-midnight lap times have fallen to one hour
and thirty-one minutes. Go Dax and Dean.
I shall cheer your anticipated victory at the finish
line on Sunday at Noon.
