Richard has experienced a couple of Alfie Cox's KTM Adventure Tours, the BMW 'GS African Adventure' tour, and the Paul Bolton Enduro Training Course in Cyprus.
He has ridden Enduro and Moto Cross in the UK, Thailand, Indonesia, Singapore, Greece, Ghana, Kenya, Qatar, Belgium, Mozambique, Cyprus and South Africa (however, he was never fit enough to do the Roof of Africa...).
Young Zacchary loves his Beta 300 XTrainer... a graduate of the Exclaim Enduro School, and test monkey for the Exclaim Enduro Events.
Back up Marie-Ange, does not ride, but drives the Discovery 4x4 Support Vehicle in case of breakdown or injury. Does a fine job with all aspects of the business! Also nags well...
Pain to the Power of 3
Does anyone know exactly what the collar bone does?
Because using the pain of breaking it as a guide it should be the most important bone in the body.
We were out on a Level 3 Exclaim Tour. I was literally pottering along, riding 'The Beast' (KTM 525 MXC Racing), and generally enjoying an easy going Tour.
Approaching a gentle 3 degree right hander, with less than 1 degree camber, I looked over my shoulder to see how our Exclaim guest was doing.
Now what happened next is a bit of a mystery... I didn't "come off" the bike, I didn't crash the bike... it seems 'The Beast' decided to spit me off with a rate of acceleration usually only found at NASA sites.
For those interested in the technicalities, it was a lightening-quick front-end wash out on ground that was rock solid clay, with a (highly invisible) greasy film, from the previous day's rain.
90 kgs accelerating at a rate of 50m/s/s/s in just 3 metres landed squarely on the shoulder... all the force through the collar bone who immediately said "fuck this" and decided to shatter into numerous parts.
And then... pain to the power of 3 - forget your whingeing ladies, I'd rather give birth to twin rhinoceros' (what is the plural for rhinoceros?).
Funny thing pain - the first instinct is to try and crawl away from it. This doesn't work.
David (Steenson) and Lawrence rode up, and David for once was not laughing... he was crying... (c@&t)
I mumbled something and started walking the 400 metres to the nearby road. I started reasoning and pleading with God. I climbed up the road and approached a nearby house.
Credit to the Cypriot family who helped me, as with all the carbon fibre / kevlar full body armour and pain contorted face, I looked like the Predator emerging from the bush.
They kindly called the ambulance and offered me water, coffee, cake and pastries... (only in Cyprus).
I was sitting in a chair 30 metres from the main road, quietly rocking and moaning like a Buddhist monk.
The ambulance arrived. I got up to walk. They stopped me and insisted on strapping me to a 6 foot board and trolley to roll me down the 30 metres of old cobblestone road.
Words can not possibly describe the pain of that short 30 metre trolley trip. I pleaded with them to let me walk. They refused.
Suffice to say, I now have something of a cobblestone phobia.
I was "bounced" into the ambulance. Tears were streaming. I was pleading for some painkillers, or a hammer, or something...
Then the ambulance took off. At this point I could not help but laugh... the driver made Juan Pablo Montoya seem smooth, graceful and a little Laura Ashley.
I was still laughing | crying | cringing as they rolled me into Limassol General A & E.
I remember being surrounded by nurses who were cutting off my armour and top. One turned to me and said "You've been here before, haven't you?"
I laughed... and passed out.