Those Who Can, Teach
First day at BMW Offroad Skills today. Once again, BMW leave everybody else standing.
First, let me diverge for a second and talk about Roger Banister. As you probably know, he was the first guy to run a mile in less than 4 minutes. On May 6 1954 to be precise. Everybody said that it couldn't be done. Even doctors testified to the fact that the human heart was incapable of sustaining the bloodflow necessary to enable a human being to run a mile in less than 4 minutes. Then Roger Banister did it. As soon as he did, another guy did it 46 days later. In the intervening 50 years, loads of people have done it.
What does this tell us? I'm sure that there is a lesson somewhere in there about how believing that something is impossible will make it exactly that - impossible.
The instructors we had for the day were Simon Pavey, Clive Town and Patsy Quick - all of them Dakar finishers. Sixteen - count em - sixteen Dakars between them. Those who have to demand respect do not command respect - and none of these guys had to demand anything in the way of respect.
So prior to this morning, I had never got on and off a motorcycle without putting the stand down (scared of dropping it). Patsy gave us lesson 1: no side stands. Ever. We had to get on and off the motorcycle without it. Once she showed us how, I came to wonder how on earth I had ever thought it was difficult - I spent the rest of the hopping on and off the bike without the stand as though I had been doing it for years.
My steed for the day was a BMW F650GS similar to Rosie but lowered a little. She was some 190kg of weight, and I was mortified when Clive Town took it off me and threw it on the ground. Time for lesson 2: How to pick up the motorcycle. It wasn't as easy as picking up a bicycle, but it was certainly easier than I had been making it.
Clive Town was Patsy's service rider - aka water carrier - for four years in the Dakar. His job was to ride with Patsy and get her to Dakar. He is called "Zippy", and introduces himself as such. At first I thought that this was to do with his general riding speed, but he told me later that it's because he talks too much.
Lesson number 3 was also a bit of a shock, again delivered by Patsy. No sitting down. Ever. You must be standing up at all times, unless you are stopped or have fallen off (in which case lying down is permitted).
She then went on to demonstrate cornering and bike control on a 250kg bike. Now Patsy Quick is about 5'6" tall and doesn't weigh a lot more than I do. And she is throwing a 250kg bike around like it was made out of cardboard. Out of the 20 or so assembled males in our group, not a single comment was made about 'women drivers'. Not one.
Then we went on to cornering and braking on poor surfaces, and how to handle skidding.
There is a very simple rule on a motorcycle on the road. If your front wheel locks, you are immediately on the ground and there is very little you can do about it. We spent half an hour disproving that theory - accelerating hard and jamming on the front brake until it locked then freeing it up again. Rinse and repeat. I did this without washing out the front wheel, and what absolute confidence it gave me.
Then some trail riding. My clutch lever snapped after a few miles and Simon stopped to look at it, declaring that he had never seen one snap like that before. He produced a new clutch lever and fitted it in about 2 minutes flat. By now, the rest of the group were away ahead, so I got to spend 10 minutes or so riding with Simon Pavey to catch up. Pretty cool.
I am in the advanced group, which consists of 12 people whose average age is 42 (I worked it out). At 36, I am the youngest. I realise fairly quickly that I am also the fittest, certainly the most bike-fit out of our bunch. By lunchtime, most of the guys are complaining about ahces and pains and wondering what there is to eat. I am still flying around like the Duracell bunny.
A lot of the guys are trophy-hunting. They are there to get their photo taken with Simon Pavey and to boats about how many bikes they own, or how much they earn (seriously, I'm not joking). Only one other guy in our group was what I would describe as 'hardcore' - he is there to learn and to soak it up. A man with a mission. His mission is to learn how to ride off-road so that he can, erm, ride more off-road. A typical conversation goes like this:
Steep hill descents was next. And when I say steep, I mean steep. It was more like a cliff than a hill - a treacherous incline of ruts, mud and polished rock all made worse by the wet. I would have had trouble walking down it, never mind trying to guide a 190kg BMW down it. We had to do this exercise several times with different combinations of front and back brakes. The fourth time I did it, I washed out the front wheel and got the handlebar end pile-driven right into my right foot. Ouch, that hurt. Good job I had my new boots on, and I thanked my stars that they were expensive ones.
Simon commented on my boots. Apparently he has an identical pair and they were 'stolen' by some Irishman friend of his. His friend sent Simon a ransom note - "free accommodation for me and the wife or the boots go on Ebay".
More trail riding in the afternoon and by now it was getting really muddy out there. We eventually encountered what I knew we were going to see - my kryptonite. Ruts. Big, ugly, menacing, water-filled muddy ruts. I said to Clive "I am scared of ruts". He shrugged and said "anybody with any sense is scared of ruts. The way to go through them is just keep your head up, dont look at them and trust the bike to take you through". So I did just that. The bike went through the rut uneventfully, with me on my pegs the whole time.
Now I am still scared of ruts, and they still give me the panics when I see them approaching, but I know I will get over this and here's how I know.
When I first got on to gravel - remember back at Yamaha - I was terrified since I have only ridden on tarmac. I was desperately trying to find the grip on the surface. I used to think "Oh My God, its gravel". Now I think "thank God its gravel". I just lean all over the front wheel and let the back wheel do what it likes - it will follow the front one sooner or later. I was just as terrified of gravel as I am of ruts. So, with some practice, I'll get over it.
One guy in our group wasn't so lucky. He got his front wheel caught in one rut, and his back wheel caught in another - ended up flying along sideways with the back wheel spinning and roosting. He caught some traction and flew 10 feet in the air straight into a storm ditch full of boulders. He was, somehow, relatively unscathed and the bike had to be hauled out by four people. One hospital visit later, and he was the proud owner of a plaster cast and a broken hand.
There will be some more trail riding tomorrow and, I am told, an awful lot more ruts. Good. I need the practice. Ruts were once my nemesis, but I will make them my four-minute mile.
First, let me diverge for a second and talk about Roger Banister. As you probably know, he was the first guy to run a mile in less than 4 minutes. On May 6 1954 to be precise. Everybody said that it couldn't be done. Even doctors testified to the fact that the human heart was incapable of sustaining the bloodflow necessary to enable a human being to run a mile in less than 4 minutes. Then Roger Banister did it. As soon as he did, another guy did it 46 days later. In the intervening 50 years, loads of people have done it.
What does this tell us? I'm sure that there is a lesson somewhere in there about how believing that something is impossible will make it exactly that - impossible.
The instructors we had for the day were Simon Pavey, Clive Town and Patsy Quick - all of them Dakar finishers. Sixteen - count em - sixteen Dakars between them. Those who have to demand respect do not command respect - and none of these guys had to demand anything in the way of respect.
So prior to this morning, I had never got on and off a motorcycle without putting the stand down (scared of dropping it). Patsy gave us lesson 1: no side stands. Ever. We had to get on and off the motorcycle without it. Once she showed us how, I came to wonder how on earth I had ever thought it was difficult - I spent the rest of the hopping on and off the bike without the stand as though I had been doing it for years.
My steed for the day was a BMW F650GS similar to Rosie but lowered a little. She was some 190kg of weight, and I was mortified when Clive Town took it off me and threw it on the ground. Time for lesson 2: How to pick up the motorcycle. It wasn't as easy as picking up a bicycle, but it was certainly easier than I had been making it.
Clive Town was Patsy's service rider - aka water carrier - for four years in the Dakar. His job was to ride with Patsy and get her to Dakar. He is called "Zippy", and introduces himself as such. At first I thought that this was to do with his general riding speed, but he told me later that it's because he talks too much.
Lesson number 3 was also a bit of a shock, again delivered by Patsy. No sitting down. Ever. You must be standing up at all times, unless you are stopped or have fallen off (in which case lying down is permitted).
She then went on to demonstrate cornering and bike control on a 250kg bike. Now Patsy Quick is about 5'6" tall and doesn't weigh a lot more than I do. And she is throwing a 250kg bike around like it was made out of cardboard. Out of the 20 or so assembled males in our group, not a single comment was made about 'women drivers'. Not one.
Then we went on to cornering and braking on poor surfaces, and how to handle skidding.
There is a very simple rule on a motorcycle on the road. If your front wheel locks, you are immediately on the ground and there is very little you can do about it. We spent half an hour disproving that theory - accelerating hard and jamming on the front brake until it locked then freeing it up again. Rinse and repeat. I did this without washing out the front wheel, and what absolute confidence it gave me.
Then some trail riding. My clutch lever snapped after a few miles and Simon stopped to look at it, declaring that he had never seen one snap like that before. He produced a new clutch lever and fitted it in about 2 minutes flat. By now, the rest of the group were away ahead, so I got to spend 10 minutes or so riding with Simon Pavey to catch up. Pretty cool.
I am in the advanced group, which consists of 12 people whose average age is 42 (I worked it out). At 36, I am the youngest. I realise fairly quickly that I am also the fittest, certainly the most bike-fit out of our bunch. By lunchtime, most of the guys are complaining about ahces and pains and wondering what there is to eat. I am still flying around like the Duracell bunny.
A lot of the guys are trophy-hunting. They are there to get their photo taken with Simon Pavey and to boats about how many bikes they own, or how much they earn (seriously, I'm not joking). Only one other guy in our group was what I would describe as 'hardcore' - he is there to learn and to soak it up. A man with a mission. His mission is to learn how to ride off-road so that he can, erm, ride more off-road. A typical conversation goes like this:
- "I own my own dental practice, and I've got a GS1200, a 850S and a Fireblade"
"Really? I'm bipolar and I'm doing the Dakar in 2009"
"You must be out of your mind"
"Yes, I am. I'm bipolar"
Steep hill descents was next. And when I say steep, I mean steep. It was more like a cliff than a hill - a treacherous incline of ruts, mud and polished rock all made worse by the wet. I would have had trouble walking down it, never mind trying to guide a 190kg BMW down it. We had to do this exercise several times with different combinations of front and back brakes. The fourth time I did it, I washed out the front wheel and got the handlebar end pile-driven right into my right foot. Ouch, that hurt. Good job I had my new boots on, and I thanked my stars that they were expensive ones.
Simon commented on my boots. Apparently he has an identical pair and they were 'stolen' by some Irishman friend of his. His friend sent Simon a ransom note - "free accommodation for me and the wife or the boots go on Ebay".
More trail riding in the afternoon and by now it was getting really muddy out there. We eventually encountered what I knew we were going to see - my kryptonite. Ruts. Big, ugly, menacing, water-filled muddy ruts. I said to Clive "I am scared of ruts". He shrugged and said "anybody with any sense is scared of ruts. The way to go through them is just keep your head up, dont look at them and trust the bike to take you through". So I did just that. The bike went through the rut uneventfully, with me on my pegs the whole time.
Now I am still scared of ruts, and they still give me the panics when I see them approaching, but I know I will get over this and here's how I know.
When I first got on to gravel - remember back at Yamaha - I was terrified since I have only ridden on tarmac. I was desperately trying to find the grip on the surface. I used to think "Oh My God, its gravel". Now I think "thank God its gravel". I just lean all over the front wheel and let the back wheel do what it likes - it will follow the front one sooner or later. I was just as terrified of gravel as I am of ruts. So, with some practice, I'll get over it.
One guy in our group wasn't so lucky. He got his front wheel caught in one rut, and his back wheel caught in another - ended up flying along sideways with the back wheel spinning and roosting. He caught some traction and flew 10 feet in the air straight into a storm ditch full of boulders. He was, somehow, relatively unscathed and the bike had to be hauled out by four people. One hospital visit later, and he was the proud owner of a plaster cast and a broken hand.
There will be some more trail riding tomorrow and, I am told, an awful lot more ruts. Good. I need the practice. Ruts were once my nemesis, but I will make them my four-minute mile.
Download the Manic Mission Information Pack for the full story ...
posted by 2009 Dakar at
Monday, June 25, 2007
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