The Dakar Rally Stories - Passing Fabrizio

Kellon Walch's story of passing Fabrizio Meoni

Kellon Walch describes in his own words how adrenaline was a double negative his first Dakar Rally as the leading member of the USA Red Bull KTM Dakar Rally team.

Passing Fabrizio Meoni

"The Dakar 2005, after two short European stages, I sat ninth overall in the motorcycle category. I finished third on one stage, and my confidence was growing. The rally crossed the Straight of Gibraltar into Morocco, and I lined up for the special test from Agidir to Smara and the second stage in Africa. This day has played out in my head at least a million times.

Fabrizio Meoni was sitting fifth or sixth. I took off on the special start a couple of bikes behind Fabrizio. I remember examining the terrain and thinking how similar the deserts of Morocco were to Las Vegas, where I grew up. It also reminded me a little of Baja, Mexico, where we had just raced the Baja 1000. Growing up desert racing in the US, we always pushed one hundred percent in our desert races, and we did the same thing racing in Baja.

I didn’t know what to expect, but riding in the deserts of Morocco felt very comfortable, like the deserts I knew back home. Naturally, I was pushing hard and had caught a handful of riders who started ahead of me. Next, I caught Fabrizio Meoni on a fast, winding, double-track road. He was on the left side of the road, riding very fast, and I went wide open and passed him on the right side.

Excitement flowed through me, knowing that I was doing well and would move up in the standings. Thinking back, this was a terrible strategy, but the adrenaline flowed. I was young, turning 22 years old a few days earlier, and I said to myself, “I got this Dakar stuff.”

About 25 or 30 kilometers down the road, I came upon a motorcycle that crashed going very fast. Someone had stopped for the fallen rider, as this is part of the spirit of Dakar. I remember looking at my road book showing a triple danger highlighted in red was quickly approaching. As I rode up to the 2 bikes, I was paying attention to them and hit the same big washout, pitching me sideways, and I crashed. I did not crash hard but hit my head on a rock. I dusted myself off, picked up my bike, and rode further to the crash scene.

Jordi Villadoms, the Spanish Red Bull KTM rider, had crashed, and Carlo De Gavardo was with him. Carlo gave me hand signals which I interpreted as, “why did you just crash!” I am sure he could see that I was super flustered, and I did not want Fabrizio to catch me after just passing him. I made up a story in my head that if he caught me, he would know I made a stupid mistake by crashing and would think I was riding over my head. Again, from my perspective, I was pushing like I always did in the desert. I later discovered that Jordi was gravely injured with a broken femur and elbow and was lucky to be alive.

About 50 km later, I came in hot into a right-hand turn with tons of rocks. I went to grab my front brake, but nothing; the lever just traveled to the handlebars. The next thing I knew, I washed out hard and slid across a rock garden. Yep, I thought to myself, just like Vegas.

I looked down, trying to figure out what was wrong. I noticed my lower front caliper banjo bolt had come loose and leaked. I thought, OK, this is an easy fix and went to find my tools. Well, it turns out the banjo bolt is the only 12 mm bolt on that entire bike, and our toolkits only had 13mm wrenches and sockets but not 12mm (as most know on the KTMs). I at least had a set of pliers, but I could not get them into the caliper to adequately tighten the banjo bolt.

I had little to no front brake and ended up riding the rest of the day with little to no front brake. Because I crashed twice, Fabrizio passed me while trying to fix my front brake. Luckily, my teammate Scot Harden came upon me, and I finished the stage with him, but I lost a lot of time.

Everyone was quite upset with me that night in the bivouac at the KTM camp. I guess I had genuinely upset Fabrizio, and looking back now, I can understand on many levels.

For one, I completely missed the opportunity to ride behind and learn from a 2-time Dakar Champion. Everyone asked me why in the world did I want to pass Fabrizio?? Second, I should have stopped to help Jordi Villadoms. It was understood during the Dakar rally that when a rider crashes badly, the first rider will stop for the fallen rider, the second rider will stop and allow the first rider to continue, and so on. I had no idea at the time, and I was just a young American dreaming of winning the Dakar. Certainly, the more I thought about it, if I had crashed as Jordi did, I would want riders to stop for me. Today, it’s not a courtesy but a Dakar rule that a rider must stop for an injured, fallen rider who needs a second rider’s assistance. That person must stop and assist until the injured rider’s helicopter arrives, and then at the end of the day, they can get their time back for their assistance. Third, Fabrizio told them in Italian that I passed him without respect and roosted him. At that moment, I thought to myself, what’s the big deal? That is how we race in America. It does not matter who you are, if you are going slower, you are going to be passed. I was thinking to myself, what were these people thinking? Of course, looking back, what I did was not intelligent at all. What was I thinking? It was the fourth stage of a seventeen-day rally, basically seventeen Baja 500s in a row. One hundred percent, I should have just sat on his wheel, following his every line, and learned the art of rally racing. Looking back, what an opportunity to ride behind him and learn what made this guy a legend in rally racing.

I was a young man with a factory ride, full of adrenaline, and on a huge stage in front of the world. I made a big mistake of trying to go faster but live and learn. At the end of the team meeting, I received orders not to pass Fabrizio again.

Perhaps the most important thing I learned that night was a lifesaving lesson. When the camion balai brought Jordi’s bike back to the KTM camp, we all looked at it, and the damage was unreal. The chassis was mangled, the pipe deformed, and his road book was smashed. The notes that were visible in his road book were the triple danger “wash out.” Even though we highlighted that section in our road books, Jordi still crashed heavily and paid a dear price that day.

Later that night, Carlos DeGavardo’s dad, who we called “papito.” He is a short, stocky Chilean who speaks fluent English. He came up to us and said in Spanish, “the roadbook will save your life.” He then repeated what he said in English, looking at us with the most solemn stare imaginable. He said, “do you understand?” Then repeated it in Spanish again. It immediately crossed my mind; I wondered if it had been me after just passing Fabrizio, who crashed, hitting that washout wide open.

The roadbook is the Dakar Rally’s bible. Everyday we are given a new roadbook which shows the route to be taken to the next destination. There are three indications on each panel — distances, a pictograph, and comments about the obstacle. The distances can range from fifty to one-hundred and fifty meters. In the left hand column shows the distance from the start of the stage. The pictograph describes what you should see around you such as a landmark like a cairn, cliff or river. The comments are available in English, French, Spanish, and Arabic. Every day since my first Dakar, I remind myself the roadbook will save your life. I have raced in fifteen Dakar rallies since and always highlight the dangers. As a navigator in a car, I will always call out the dangers out, because I know it will save your life in the Dakar rally. The sun, wind, terrain, and seeing Meoni next to me are in my memories as if they happened yesterday.”