Complete Qualifying Day Report:

When you go to different places, there is sometimes a sort of “feeling in the air.” Imagine going to an empty stadium after an event. You just know something momentous had taken place there and painting the scene might even enthrall you so much, you start to feel like you were actually there. This feeling is something I had not yet experienced upon my first visit to Means Dry Lake in Johnson Valley. Birthplace of one of the toughest races off-road, King of the Hammers (KOH). Never being to the event and having virtually zero to no experience in race environments, I knew nothing of what to expect.

My first presentation of the landscape was two weeks prior to the event. Now I don’t know if any of you have made the journey in either direction of Lake Havasu City, AZ to or from California on Interstate 10, but themajority of it is nothing but open desert with towering mountains in the distance—beautiful, but bland. Other than passing a few towns, the topography was the same 

the whole drive. Pre-KOH, looking at the lakebed from State Route 247, is the same image as well. During that time, it was close to nothing but a barren wasteland. There was some fencing and maybe a couple of dozen workers as well as a single standing tent. With the races kicking off in a fortnight, I was quick to think there wouldn’t be enough time to turn the area into anything too crazily extravagant. Boy was I wrong…

Not even two weeks later I was rendered speechless. I thought, “There’s no way!? This can not be the same spot.” But it was. The entire, and I mean entire, lay of the land had just turned from desolate to damn near a highly populated city. Tens of thousands of people, along with just as many vehicles in attendance. I was only at KOH for 4 days, so I didn’t get to see everything that it offered, and I left early in the week so also didn’t get to see how big it became, but the essence that is King of the Hammers had come to fruition right in front of my eyes. It’s no wonder spectators and racers alike from all different parts of the United States come to Johnson Valley. And this was only the beginning.

To meander down to Means Dry Lakebed, or better known as “Hammertown” during the event, we had to traverse 4 miles down Boone Road from State Route 247. It was like pulling onto the freeway from an onramp into traffic, but instead of road rage, everyone was sporting good vibes. Even with the thousands of spider web-like trails interconnecting all around the area, the masses of vehicles traveling them in all directions, and all the chaos that ensued, nearly every person made a means to express courtesy to one another. It’s something that’s always colored me impressed by the off-road community. That same courtesy was extended inside Hammertown.

Walking into the gates of Hammertown, the vendor presence was hard to miss. There were booths everywhere. Every time I went in, it was nothing short of feeling like I had just walked into an outside mall. That is a mall completely stock full of off-road equipment and attire. Accompanying the booths, which had enough wares I was window shopping for hours, were food trucks. Thank sweet baby geese! I didn’t have to drive 32 miles to the nearest town to stay hydrated and fed while I was having a good time. That would have sucked. Fortunately enough, when I did want to give my legs a rest from all the walking around, the centerstage of Hammertown was, to my surprise, a Jumbotron. How the heck do you get a Jumbotron out to the middle of nowhere and stream live coverage? Well, Monster Energy had brought it down this year for spectators who didn’t have the means to get out to spectator locations during the races. Pretty rad, right? In front of the Jumbotron, laid a massive fire pit that people would circle around with lawn chairs to sit cozy during the day. But nothing compared to being out near the UTVs on the track.

As I jump from the less exciting things and into the carnage of the races, I want to digress here for a second and mention the conditions of the event that I wasn’t prepared for. First off, I had never actually been to the area and when I was told to get time off work to make it out, I wasn’t given any details other than, “Hey, you need these dates off to go with us to King of the Hammers.” That’s literally all the info I was riding on. It was windy, there was zero cell service, temperatures fluctuated from “freezing” in the morning to “I wish this was an actual lake” during the day, and for a lot of areas, I couldn’t see more than 50 yards in front of me through all the dirt in the air, but momma didn’t raise no wuss. I was having the time of my life the whole event and forgot about all that. Especially when my adrenaline was going through the roof.

The course, which lay inside a 96,000-acre OHV riding area, is overseen by BLM. I was told by people who attended the event prior that for safety reasons, BLM called for spectator-friendly viewing areas around the course in recent years. Still, the marked areas put me up close enough I could feel my adrenaline rising as I watched racers hack it out in their UTVs. There were desert loops and brutal rock trails with all different kinds of obstacles like sharp and slick rocks, long straights, deep pits, soft sand, rough gravel, high climbs, and steep drops. I’ve seen short-course races before, but KOH was on a whole other playing field.

It was definitely worth the trek away from the Jumbotron to get up close to the action, even if it was a little bit of a drive to get there. The courses are stretched near and far. There’s no way I would have got to them all on foot. Out of all of the viewing areas, I found the most thrilling sections to watch were the technical rock areas. Like any race, competitors had to duke it out to gain ground, but these areas took a lot more expertise than knowing how hard to be on the pipe. The path wasn’t always clear. One guy would pull up. I’d be watching him try to essentially “Austin Powers” his way over some rocks, going inch-by-inch to make sure he didn’t roll over. All the while, his Co-Dog would get out of the vehicle, try to find somewhere to strap their winch onto, guide his driver through the terrain, and sometimes even would stand on the UTVs side to try to hold it on all fours so it wouldn’t find itself belly-up.

Speaking of belly-up, there were times that some UTVs barred the path for other racers. Sometimes they would be upside down, and others they’d just be taking a long time to figure out how to get through a technical section. Without a doubt, this was a race though. If racers didn’t trample over their competition, they would make their own path. There was no time to waste and these guys knew it.

As far as the overall event, there’s really not a whole lot else I can say to express how great of a time I had at King of the Hammers. However, I can say this… looking back now, I can feel an emotion in the air when thinking about all the different parts that made this event a thrill. Parts that even if I were to list, it would not do the justice in painting the image in your head of this momentous event. One thing is for certain… Next year I plan to return and once again walk out onto the lakebed. Only next time, I know it’ll be with the “walking into a stadium” feel that before, I could only imagine.