NZV8 — February 2018

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the race course merged onto the road leading into
the town. As far back as we could see, campfires
lined both sides of the race course, with local fans
soaking up the race.
We headed on into La Purisima to find the
BF Goodrich (BFG) pits, which was where we
were to set up. Space was at a premium, with
BFG’s semi-trailer set-up on the only flat ground
around. We elected to use a flat but rocky section
next to it. We had been told that at least five
of the leading trophy trucks had already gone
through. It was 2am, so Mike and I headed back to
the intersection where the fans were to see some
action. On the way, we stopped in at a trophy-
truck pit, where they were preparing for their last
driver to come in. I took the chance to take some
photos, and Mike was roped in to provide drinks
and wipes for the driver — not the last time he
would be called on.
We parked up at the intersection and started
walking down the course, saying hello to the
locals, taking photos of them, and even sharing
a tequila or two in between watching the trophy
trucks, class ones, and bikes hauling down the
course, covering everyone with dust — much
to their delight. The locals just loved the racing,
sharing stories of their own racing exploits with us
in Spanglish and hearing about Mike’s successes
down in New Zealand. This is what Baja is about. I
had an hour at the ‘wash’ (river crossing) to get a
few shots of some of the vehicles coming through
before we needed to head back to set up our pits
proper, as well as to shoot a few of the vehicles
going into the BFG pits.
With it still being dark, we did a rough set out and
then took an hour’s nap before the sun came
up. Then, we finished the site and practised our
refuelling using the 11-gallon cans. Then, we sat
and waited. Seven o’clock rolled by with no sign
of Rhys. Half an hour later, the first UTV in his class
went by, then another, but still no Rhys — and no
sign of Hammond, either. Clearly something had
happened, but, with no means of communication,
we didn’t know what. We had no choice but to sit
and wait. Having driven so far to set up the pit and
practise the refuel, we just wanted to do it to know
we had done what had been asked of us.
After a couple of false crackles, at midday, we got
a call on the radio from Hammond’s RZR — as it
drove past us! We got them to turn around and
come into the pit. We were on! The two cans went
in perfectly, with no spillage. The guys stretched
their legs, downed a couple of bottles of water,
fixed a loose wire with the good old race tape, and
they were off — but not before telling us the bad
news: Rhys was out of the race.