The Baja Rally’s finish wasn’t without mental and physical anguish.

Stage five promised a mix of fast, flowy and technical riding, with some tough navigation, and single track. And it was a “reverse start,” meaning the normal start order based on overall standings was reversed: the pros would be last, and would have to pass all of us average folk. I took off from the start line, determined to make it through the whole day. I would take my time and ride smart, conserve energy, and take breaks.

The sun was rising over the desert as the route led us through more cacti forest, then into the greyed shale hills. I was riding alone, hoping I was on the right path. When I crested over a hill preparing for descent, I saw a cloud of dust. Off in the distance — a few kilometres away, at least — was a rider on the flats who had succeeded the hills I was now navigating through. I was riding with a separated shoulder from day one, and an ominous stomach bug that was currently tamed by Imodium. The urge to race after him was prominent, but instead, I gave myself a second to take it all in: the rising sun, an endless horizon, muted shades becoming vibrant as the sun shone upon them, riders experiencing all of this together but alone, like some solitary collective.

BE AWARE OF YOUR SIX

The sun rose higher and the riding became more technical. It was expected in this stage that you’d pass and be passed, considering the start lineup. The most spectacular of passes, though, was made by front-runner Ciaran Naran while riding through a sandy ATV trail framed by cactus and bush. I heard him behind me and he was coming in fast. I moved over while slowing a bit, and within a second my vision was obscured by a plume of dust. In the haze. I saw him look back while disappearing, all within an unfathomably quick time.

The day was wearing on me as the sandy trail led to a web of roads. I followed a track, not thinking about my roadbook. I was tired but didn’t want to admit it. I stopped within a hundred metres and found a cow trail that might have made sense, except it didn’t, so I turned back. I could hear other bikes closeby but couldn’t quite find the right route until 15 minutes later. 

The route led us onto a very rutted farm road — there were holes dug in the sand from trucks that had struggled — the trick was to try to stay out of the ruts. I had just been passed…