Dr Evil Experience: Lost & Found in the Forest

I woke up to find sand in my bed, laughed Luke Lockhart-Ross, despite taking two showers after yesterday’s muddy slog at the 2024 Dr Evil Experience. Surely today wouldn’t be worse, right? Wrong!

Stage 2 started with blue skies and high spirits. The gees was flowing, especially after Shaun Peters cracked a few jokes before Viking told us the stage had been shortened to save trails for tomorrow’s fun day. Less distance = less mud? Dream on.

Charl, my new very officially unofficial riding partner, had forgotten his gloves and was buying a new pair at the start, with his wife Roxy laughing at him. Clearly, we were getting better at this stage racing thing (this is still up for debate).

Charl Kemp and his brand new gloves on Stage 2 of the Dr Evil Experience. Photo by Oakpics.com.

Off we went through Cairnbrogie farm and into the Harkerville Red Route. I found a good rhythm with Mr. Waleed Baker, the kilometres ticking by smoothly as we chatted about upcoming races and work. But when I turned to check on Charl, he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. “He’ll catch up,” I thought. Sorry Charl.

The “leave no man behind” code had been broken. And it had been broken in the mud.

I latched onto the Trail Angels as they flew through the forest, with Nikki picking perfect lines (seriously, she’s amazing—look her up for skills clinics). My guilt grew, though. “Should I wait? I should wait” I didn’t wait. “Charl’s a beast, he’ll be here soon” I told myself.

Between the rain showers the views were spectacular on Stage 2 of the Dr Evil Experience. Photo by Oakpics.com.

Enter karma. I hit a rock, flatted in some chocolate mousse-like mud, and took a lie down (I’m fine, this time, though your concern is appreciated). Cold, muddy hands aren’t ideal for fixing flats, but after 2 plugs and 2 CO₂ bombs, I was back on the bike. Cresting a rise, I wasn’t surprised to see Seamus, phone in hand, ready to mock me.

Before my ego could take more hits, Charl reappeared, and we were back in action. A quick battery swap for Charl’s faulty derailleur, chain lube, and nature break later, and we rode off, with Seamus’ cackles fading into the background.

The final 15km was where things got fun (and a little frightening). We dropped into Old Coot for a send session, but guess who pops up halfway down? Seamus. More chirps.

Then came the sketchy descent down Golding Grind – drifting corners, completely out of control. By the time we hit Ziggy’s Zig Zag, my pads were on their last legs, and Charl’s weren’t much better. Nervous laughter filled the forest as we slid our way through, barely holding it together.

If you’d been thinking that we hadn’t seen or heard from Seamus in a fresh minute, that thought can end right now. For there he was, again. A freshly charged phone and an even fresher set of jokes (for those without context, Seamus I go way back and will eagerly take the piss out of each other at EVERY possible opportunity) – “couple of the year”, “BFFs”, “do your wives know about this new relationship” and so on and so forth. Ja ja ja Seamus, only one more day to go.