TDS Veteran Ryan Gardner tipping it over on some rare hero dirt on the Sanchez Ranch
After more than a decade of showing up to the TDS Enduro, it still hits the same: this surreal mix of excitement, nerves, and something that feels a lot like coming home.
It’s not a race in the traditional sense. TDS exists in its own category, part competition, part chaos, part community ritual. It’s a place where everyone is riding on the edge, but you know, no matter how it goes, someone’s there to pick you up and hand you a beer if things don’t go right.
Sophie Allen is no stranger to the TDS chaos.
And like any good odyssey, you’re not dropped into it alone. TDS has its own oracles, the Sanchez family. They open their ranch to all of us, but more than that, they guide the whole experience. Their presence somehow holds together every rider, every spectator, every slightly questionable decision. You’re taken care of. You’re welcomed in. You’re also reminded (gently or not) that there are rules now… because the wild years may be behind us, but the stories definitely aren’t.
Becky Gardner knew there was going to be a heavy price for those epic practice conditions.
Some years it’s brutally hot. Other years, the rain rolls in, and everyone crowds the fire, shoes steaming, and beers in hand. No matter what shows up weather-wise, one thing is guaranteed: everyone, racers, friends, first-timers, veterans, end up bonded through a mix of chaos, laughter, and a kind of dirt that only exists here. The kind that stains everything it touches. The kind we’ve all come to know simply as TDS dirt.
Sophie Allen looking composed on the chunder that is Vigilante.
This year, though, TDS gave us a gift.
Friday and Saturday delivered some of the best conditions we’ve seen in years, perfectly tacky, grippy, hero dirt that let you push just a little harder than you probably should. It felt too good to be true… which, of course, meant it was.
Because you don’t get conditions like that without paying for it.
Sophie Allen getting the full spa treatment.
In true TDS fashion, Saturday night, the sky fully chose violence and didn’t let up. It rained all night, rolled straight into all day, and turned the whole mountain into a deluxe, overpriced mud spa you absolutely did not book, the kind of rain where your goggles are more of a suggestion than a solution. I’ve seen my fair share of sloppy TDS weekends, but this one? Yeah… She might take the crown.
But that’s the thing about this place. The colder it gets, the harder it rains, the bigger the fire burns. Not metaphorically, but literally. TDS might have the best race-day campfire scene in existence.
Between race runs and mud-soaked laughs, riders huddled around the flames, hands out, gear steaming, warming up just long enough to head back down and do it all over again.
Ryan Gardner trying to outrun the spectators in arse slap alley.
Because that’s the deal.
You freeze a little. You laugh a lot. Then you point it downhill.
Faster than you should.
Looser than you planned.
Exactly how TDS is meant to be ridden.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you find your crew.
For me, that was the Kona squad this year: me, my brother (a true TDS OG who’s been in it since the early days), and Sophie Allen, new to Kona but very familiar with this particular flavor of mayhem.
Ryan was on the Process X, fully committed to the “point it and pray” program, while Sophie and I were on the Process 153s, which, honestly, just feels right at a race like this. Easy to pedal, quick on the downhill, and probably my favorite TDS bike to date.
I’ve raced TDS on just about every Process Kona has made (lol). The Process 111 was strictly for the chaos cultivators and the “this seemed like a good idea at the time” crowd (RIP), the Process 134 for the “slightly underbiked but emotionally committed” crew, the Process X for the “I can make this double a triple” energy… and I have to say they all rip in their own way. But this year, the Process 153 really hit the sweet spot.
The Process X handles the bigger, rougher moments without asking questions, and the 153 sits right in that middle ground, happy to grind through long days, but still down to get a little reckless when the trail points down.
And that’s the beauty of this race. You show up with your people, your bikes, and a loose plan at best, and somehow it all comes together. Or it doesn’t. But either way, you’re laughing about it by the fire 20 minutes later.
And no matter how muddy it gets, or how completely cooked you are from smashing some of the best trails in California, it’s impossible to leave without a dirt-streaked, ear-to-ear grin.
We don’t know how many more TDS Enduros the Sanchez family will gift us. But I do know this: if there’s a start line, I’ll be there. Bells on, nerves high, already pretending I have a better system for keeping my gear clean… Fully aware it’s all going straight into a trash bag full of dirt by Sunday to deal with on Monday.
