The Deadliest Race

© Chris Jones

Downhill at Dakar.

You know that when Wet Wipes and Zip Ties are two of the most important things in your life, you are somewhere far, far away from normal. When you have willingly paid large sums of money for the privilege of being there, you are even further still. Or, maybe you're just riding the Dakar.

"A Challenge for Those Who Go"

The Dakar, originally called the Paris to Dakar Rally, is an annual off-road endurance race that originated in 1978. The event grew out of the experience of Thierry Sabine, who was riding the Abidjan-Nice Rally but got lost in the Libran desert. He decided to turn his experience into an event, and gave it the motto, “A challenge for those who go. A dream for those who stay behind.”

While the initial route ran, as the name suggests, from Paris, France, to Dakar, Senegal, political instability in some of the countries on the route has forced changes. The start of the race also shifted from Paris, France to Lisbon, Portugal. (And, for the last two years, though, the race shifted once more, and is now run in South America.)

© Chris JonesRiding in sand - it's harder than it looks!In the 29 years since it began, the Dakar, run each January, has become “the pinnacle of off-road motorcycle racing for professionals and amateurs alike.” For Dakar riders, other races such as the Baja 1000 are just warm-ups. The Dakar is the big one.

The Dakar is for serious racers. Entry fees for riders alone are $18,500, and most riders have support teams, for whom there are additional multi-thousand-dollar fees. To do the Dakar on $50,000 is a minimum. Many spend two or three times that. While a few riders are intent on winning, for the large majority, simply to finish is to win. Traditionally, fewer than half of those who start the race reach the finish line. And some don't even make it back home.

What Is It Like to Ride the Dakar?

Chris Jones prepared for the Dakar for three years.

“After much contemplation I decided to convert my trusty old (2005) KTM 640 Adventure into my trusty new Dakar Rally Bike," he says. "I didn't save much money but I knew that bike like the back of my hand. You can save money but at a point you're saving yourself into a failure.”

Jones teamed up with four other racers, under the JJE Racing banner. The team had four racers, Jones, James Embro, the leader, Elmer Symons, and Steve Laroza. They equipped a Ford F-350 truck as their support vehicle and shipped everything to Portugal.

Barely 4.6 km into the first special, Jones found himself in deep sand.

“The sand in Portugal was unlike anything I had seen. At times the sand was almost two feet deep and heavy with moisture," he says. "It didn’t take long for me to go down. It wasn’t a very dramatic get off but enough to stir the nerves a little. I was already tired and my arms pumped up as a result. I thought if this is what is to come I am in deep trouble. The next 112 kms were about the least amount of fun riding I have had on a bike in a long time. I did manage to go down no less than another six times but thankfully no more than 10 or 15 mph. The crowd loved it, especially the sandy faceplant.”

© Chris JonesA helicopter hauls away a dead motorcycle.Over the next 14 days, through Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, and finally Senegal, problems mounted and Jones thought many times of giving it up. First, the team truck was unable to continue because it was so heavily loaded that it kept breaking wheels. So Jones was on his own, with no support. Then, on Day 4 the worst happened: Elmer Symons, one of the JJE Racing riders, was killed in a crash.

Describing that morning in the bivouac, Jones says, “Even in the midst of his own crazy race Elmer still had time to check on a buddy. They only stayed for a minute but in that he told me it was a long stage and I really needed to be careful. [I told myself] 'Don’t do anything stupid and just get it to the finish each and every day.' He said he really wanted to see me at Dakar. [He said], 'Just finish it.' I told him like I had told him a dozen times before that if he got me to the start I’d get it to the finish. I thanked him and told him I’d see him that night in Ouarzazate. That was the last time I ever saw Elmer.

Then, “around the 140 km mark in a particularly fast section I came up on Elmer’s bike, #107, parked sideways on the road. Someone had righted it maybe as a caution, I don’t know. It had clearly been cartwheeled but of course I never assumed the worst.”

Meeting up with the other team members a little further on, he learned about Symons’ death and also that James Embro was out of the race because of a mechanical failure.

“Of the four JJE Team Racing members only Steve and I remained. We just stood there looking at the sand and the desert and this god-forsaken race. What in the hell are we doing? What the fuck? People aren’t supposed to die, especially your teammates.”

For the duration of the race Symons' death haunted him.

“For me the whole motivation to get to the finish had left. I really didn’t care much if I reached Dakar or not. I figured, I had gotten to the start, I had experienced the Dakar, whatever happens from here on out I really couldn’t care less,” he said.

The Spirit of the Dakar

But Jones did continue and right about this time he hooked up with Charlie Rauseo’s support team. They had lost some riders to mechanical issues and were happy to help this unsupported rider in any way they could.

“Everybody, across the board, was willing to help each other. That’s the spirit of the Dakar. You’re going to stop and help this rider who has problems and he might be helping you a little farther down the road.”

After a day of riding, racers rest in the carpet tents sent up in the bivouac.In the days ahead Jones’s hand became one massive blister, making it almost impossible to work the throttle. In bivouac one night he went to the hospital and an expert doctor drained and medicated the blisters and crafted marvelous bandages. Each night after that he returned for new treatment but never saw that particular doctor again. The others were not nearly as good, especially one who, said Jones, “I swear she had never seen or done anything like this in her life. I think for the first 14 days of the rally she was over in catering serving breakfast and on the last day they threw her a bone and let her work in medical.”

The terrain was also tough on the motorcycle. Eventually, the only things holding it together were duct tape and Zip Ties. After using, and breaking, countless regular Zip Ties, Jones got some industrial-sized Zip Ties from a Red Bull truck that helped him make it to the finish line.

Of course, in this sort of terrain, with limited or non-existent facilities, hygiene was iffy.

“While still in Lisbon Spice sent me off with two rather large packs of baby wipes for this and that. I used every one of them, the last one being the last day in Dakar. Toward the 3/4 race mark I started to ration my wipes so they would last but I used them for everything. That may have been the single greatest accessory I had with me. In the absence of any real shower or means of cleaning the handy wipes were a saving grace.”

The Finish Line

The race finally ended.

© Chris JonesThe reward for completing the Dakar. “The screaming people and the first glimpse of the Lac Rose is a memory I will never forget. I slid and drifted to the finish not far behind Steve and when we brought it to a stop we both just shook hands and smiled. It was done. I was completely in my own world.”

Along the way Jones had spoken with a woman who had ridden the Dakar four times and was working on a support team this time. “I hate this,” he told her and she told him to be careful. “Every single person who says they’ll never be back comes back.”

Six months afterward, says Jones, “I was thinking, that’s not too bad. It’s the coolest two-week ride you could ever do in your life. It’s an indescribable feeling, especially if you get to the finish line.”

Three years later, Jones says, “Oh yeah, every year since then I've thought about it. There's something just magnetic about it. The pain wears off. It’s such a unique experience. I never, ever get tired of talking about it.”

Would he recommend the Dakar to anyone else?

“If I can inspire one person to go do some crazy dream then I've done my job.”

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