This Article is From Aug 16, 2010

US: Horror at desert ritual as racer flips into crowd

Lucerne Valley, California: They came at dusk, more than 1,000 fans driving pickups and off-road vehicles down eight miles of dirt road, to celebrate an annual rite of summer that draws an intensely loyal group of followers: night racing deep in the Mojave Desert by a fleet of souped-up trucks tackling a barely marked 40-mile track of rocks, ruts, sand and sagebrush.

But as the crowd gathered Saturday night at a prime spot to view the California 200 -- the Rock Pile, where drivers come roaring over a steep incline and down a steep hill -- a 2000 Ford Ranger modified for off-road use lurched into the air, spun out of control and rolled into the crowd.

It landed upside down, bodies beneath it, in a cloud of chalky dust. Eight people were killed, and 12 more were injured, most of them young fans in their 20s, with witnesses reporting a twilight panic of screams and bodies flying through the air.

"The truck came over the hill then pitched sideways," said Kimi Perez, 24, whose husband and brother were injured in the crash. She was sitting outside the emergency entrance at Loma Linda University Medical Center, where the crash victims were taken, on Sunday afternoon.

"As it fell sideways, it hit a bunch of people," she said of the truck. "Then it turned completely and flipped over into the crowd. People were running and hollering for the other trucks to stop because they were still coming over the hill. They didn't know what happened."

David Conklin, 43, a freelance photographer who covers many of these races for off-road magazines like Dusty Times and heard the crash, described a scene of bodies sprawled on the ground in pools of blood.

"He went through 20 or 30 yards of spectators on the side of the course," Mr. Conklin said of the driver.

The driver, Brett M. Sloppy, 28, of San Marcos, Calif., escaped uninjured, officials said, but had to be escorted away under police protection to avoid angry spectators, some of whom threw rocks at him.

Mr. Sloppy, in a post on his Facebook page, said he was lost and devastated. "My thoughts and prayers go out" to all of the families and friends that were involved, he wrote early Sunday.

The accident brought new attention to a form of wilderness recreation that, if not particularly well known, has been the subject of criticism for the dangers it poses to the environment and to humans. President Bill Clinton signed an act barring most American deserts from being used for racing. This is one of the few spots where it is still permitted.

For all its breathtaking excitement, night racing in the desert has legions of dangers. The drivers often struggle to keep their vehicles, with pliable suspensions and oversize tires, under control as they approach speeds of 80 miles per hour, struggling to see through thick clouds of dust and sand thrown up by vehicles in front of them.

There are no barriers separating the vehicles from the crowds, except for snow fencing at the beginning and end of the loop. Onlookers are supposed to stay 100 feet away, but that unwritten rule is often ignored and is not enforced.

The California 200 began at dusk in a flat, dry river valley about three miles from the crash site. The vehicles, taking off at 30-second intervals, throw up blinding white dust that reflects the headlights back into the eyes of drivers. The scene, one participant said, is right out of a "Mad Max" movie.

The races are held at night in part to avoid blistering daytime temperatures -- it was 100 degrees on Sunday -- but also because it has become the anchor of what is in effect an overnight party in the desert.

"There should have been signs posted, they should have been 100 feet from the track," said Robert Perez, Ms. Perez's father-in-law. "When those trucks come over the hill, they are flying."

Ms. Perez's husband suffered a broken leg, her brother a shattered eye socket.

"They will be O.K.," Ms. Perez said. "They're lucky to be alive."

Two of her friends were not as lucky. "One of my friends died right away; he was on the ground," Ms. Perez said. "The other was taken in an ambulance, but he died in it and they brought him back. They put him back on the ground and took someone else. There were so many people hurt."

Wayne Nosala, a regional director for legislation for the California Off-Road Vehicle Association, said, "A lot of spectators were congested in one area to see the vehicle go into the air, and that's entertainment for the spectators."

Mr. Nosala, a desert racer himself who heard from friends who were at the race, said the sport had adopted an increasing number of safety rules, requiring drivers to have certified helmets and fire suits, for example.

"The unwritten rule is you stay 100 feet from the course, but some people stay within five feet of the course," Mr. Nosala said Sunday. "And when the truck got out of control, the crowd was there, when it should have been back 100 feet."

The event is wildly popular, a pageant in which fans, carrying coolers filled with food and beer, begin arriving in the afternoon for a night of excitement and celebration. Most spend the night, sleeping in trailers and tents after the race is finished, which is often not until well past midnight.

The setting is stunning in its remoteness -- it took 35 minutes to drive the eight miles of dirt road to the site of the crash. In every direction is desert, a rolling vista of sand and brush with a backdrop of mountains. Other than the maze of trails used by off-road vehicles most weekends and the occasional portable toilet, there was not a sign of civilization anywhere.

"It is just a lot of fun," said Nickki Phillips of Glendale, who was still at the site on Sunday with her husband and 3-year-old daughter.

Mr. Nosala said the promoters of such races -- like the one that operated Saturday's, Mojave Desert Racing -- cannot afford the security staff to keep spectators back and often rely on federal and state land managers who normally patrol the desert. Joaquin Zubieta, a spokesman for the California Highway Patrol, said there were more than 1,000 people at the race.

Beyond racing, millions of people like to take off-road vehicles -- specially adapted trucks, cars and motorcycles -- over deserts and other natural terrain. In California, there are more than one million people who have bought "green stickers," essentially licenses that allow them to drive vehicles over rough terrain.

California is one of only a few states that permit desert races -- some are allowed in Nevada and Arizona -- and only a few locations can hold them. In the Mojave, Mr. Nosala said, a half-dozen races are held each year.

Off-road racing has been growing in popularity and has become a testing ground for manufacturers of sport-utility vehicles, trucks and other vehicles.

There have been deaths and injuries of bystanders at other off-road races, like the Baja 1000 in Mexico and the Dakar Rally, the world's longest off-road event, which covers more than 6,000 miles through Chile and Argentina. The Dakar Rally, which was held in Africa for two decades, is one of the most widely watched sporting events in the world.

The 40-year-old sport has been attacked in the past by some environmental groups, who say it endangers animal and plant species like the desert tortoise, the Mojave ground squirrel and the kangaroo rat. But fans argue that other forces like suburban development are a bigger threat.

The remoteness of the site complicated rescue efforts; it took a half-hour to reach some of the victims. A fleet of helicopters carried nine of the injured to Loma Linda University Medical Center, and helicopters and police officers were searching for victims into Sunday morning.

Six people died at the scene, and two others died at the hospital. Seven of the dead were identified: Aaron Farkas, 25 of Escondido, Calif.; Danica Frantzich, 20, of Las Vegas; Zachary Freeman, 24 of Fillmore, Calif.; Dustin C. Malson, 24, of Ventura, Calif.; Anthony Sanchez, 23, of Escondido; Andrew Therrin, 22, of Riverside; and Brian Wolfin, 27, of Escondido. A 34-year-old man also died, but the authorities had not released his name.

Late on Sunday, the police, ambulance crews, the organizers and most of the attendees had left. Several people lingered around a makeshift memorial at the accident site: a wooden cross, a single sneaker, a cap and dusty sunglasses.

"Normally, everybody stays the night," Matt Phillips, Nickki Phillips's husband, said as he packed up a trailer. "But everybody started leaving right after the accident. No one wanted to stay around." 
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