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So, I was figuring I’m getting to be an old hand at this adventure-riding caper. I’ve got my full licence. I’ve been riding for about three years. I’ve owned four different bikes and written off one. I’m no longer the slowest rider on the trip (well…that’s not true unless there’s a learner rider and it’s a 100kph limit and it’s a good bit of road…look out then!).
I’ve even bought a second bike (Dave insists it’s really his) to keep me riding while waiting for the Terra to have parts replaced under warranty. However, since coming off between Wanaaring and Tibooburra, my innate fear of sand has persisted. I also know that riding around on gravel roads is not going to make me a better sand rider. With that thought in mind, the Terra finally back on deck after five long months and a rare weekend free of commitments, it was time to start to address that phobia. The beach seemed like the perfect place.
The hard sand was fun, but it was important not to avoid the more challenging soft sand.
Camera shy
I’d been really busy at work in the week leading up to the ride, so there wasn’t much time to dwell on it or make up excuses not to go. The morning before heading off I asked on social media for tips. I was overwhelmed with advice. There were even a few well-known names among adventure riders in the long list of advice givers. I was genuinely surprised and very appreciative of all the people who took the time to write a few tips for me – although I wouldn’t call ‘have someone riding behind you with a GoPro’ a useful riding tip.
A taste of sand in western NSW showed it was some-thing that needed to be dealt with and practiced.
Easily said
I know the basics. I know what I’m supposed to do. But when I’m in the situation, fear, and self-preservation, takes over.
I think it’s a combination of being a chicken who really doesn’t want to get hurt, and, as a mother, wanting to make it home to my kids.
I’ve ridden with other women (and men) who seem to ride without fear, who I’m sure love their kids as much as I love mine.
I’ve come to the realisation that I’ll never be a particularly daring or fast rider, and I’m okay with that. Recently I’ve met and ridden with a couple of young people – I sound soooo old! – quite new to riding who put me to shame with their speed and skill.
Armed with good advice like ‘look further ahead’ (I’ve noticed I’ve become really bad at looking right where I’m riding and have to continually tell myself to look ahead), ‘weight to the rear’ (well, that’s where my weight is) and ‘balance’, ‘throttle’ and ‘stand on the ’pegs’, I was ready to give it a really good go.
Karen Ramsay
Let it slide
It was a ridiculously hot day and I was dripping with sweat, but I knew it wasn’t from the heat. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears as we got closer to the beach.
As much as I might try to calm my nerves, slow my breathing and think positive thoughts, I was absolutely petrified.
I wasn’t just scared of coming off either, I was also scared I’d paddle through the soft sand to the beach, stick to the hard sand the entire time then paddle back again. That would mean I’d ultimately achieved nothing and all those handy tips would be in vain.
I made it onto the beach without falling, but I did paddle half of the way. Still, I figured it was better to actually make it on to the beach upright.
Dave and I spent the next few hours practising and enjoying the experience.
While I did spend a lot of time on the hard sand, I forced myself into the softer sand too.
I also tried to learn how to do a power slide, but I just looked like someone who wanted to stop quickly without leaving any evidence on the sand.
This was the stuff that would teach the lesson!
Success
It may have been just Dave and I riding along the beach that morning, but I felt like I had a whole cheer squad with me. I posted a picture early on just to show those helpful people I’d actually made it onto the beach. Dozens of people I didn’t know congratulated me and kept encouraging me to keep going. Deep down, I reckon 90 per cent of the people that morning were hoping I’d come off in a spectacular way and there’d be video evidence. Isn’t that what most people prefer to see?
I think letting people know your weak-nesses is sometimes a good thing. There are always people who can offer advice or assistance, or others who are in the same boat and will be quietly lurking around picking up the same advice.
Apart from being completely blown away from all the helpful tips, one bloke, Josh – our only connection being we both belong to the same adventure riding group on social media – made my day (I won’t include his surname in case he’s on the run).
Paraphrasing Nelson Mandela he wrote “Courage isn’t the absence of fear. It’s acknowledging the fear and doing it anyway.
Today you were courageous.” While I may not have given my Wanaaring Sand Demons the bird, I did quietly poke my tongue out at them.
There was no sense in not enjoying myself while I had the chance.
What I’ve learned
• Being connected to social media when you’re out riding gives you either a cheer squad or a peanut gallery
• I’m really good with sand-riding theory
• I need more practice with the practicalities of sand (and numerous other conditions)
• My kids are yet to appreciate my cautious riding is directly related to my love for them
• Being slow means I’ll always be behind the person with the video camera
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