“That’s first gear,” my instructor says nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about all that clanking and grinding. The cut gears just sound like that.”
This is how every transmission on the planet should engage: gritty, raw, clinking and clunking. Nevertheless, I hope I don’t break it, because this thing costs way more than your average halo car sitting on a dealer lot.
Thanks to the generous guys and gals at DirtFish Rally School, I’m belted into the tight Recaro bucket of an FIA-approved Group N Subaru Impreza WRX STI racecar constructed by Vermont SportsCar (the same outfit that has assembled race/stunt cars for Ken Block, Dave Mirra, Travis Pastrana and others) for my first taste of off-road rally racing.
DirtFish’s home turf is the stunning Old Mill Adventure Park near Snoqualmie, Washington. It’s heaven for motorheads and a dream for photographers. Students learn driving basics on 350 acres of mixed surfaces, and if they make it through the full three-day Advanced Rally program ($2795), they can try the demanding rally circuit that puts their skills to a high-speed, multi-maneuver test.
Prior to being engulfed by the Subie’s HANS-compatible throne, I learn a number of basic principles from Forest Duplessis, DirtFish’s chief instructor. Two of them – Lift, Turn, Wait (LTW), and Lift, Turn, Brake (LTB) – are key to any rallying situation. “Lift” refers to lifting off the throttle, while “Wait” means waiting for the tires to grip. For the second principle, “Brake” replaces “Wait” so that the car’s weight is dramatically shifted to the front axles, creating additional nose grip.
My three-hour crash course begins on the skidpad to learn car control by left-foot braking and throttle modulation. Then it’s onto to the slalom to use those skills in a trickier situation and to further my understanding of weight distribution. Last, I try my luck on the rally circuit.
“Remember to lift, turn, then wait for the grip. It’ll snag; all you have to do is wait,” Duplessis says as I begin what feels like a never-ending left turn on the gravel pit. Although 25 years young, Duplessis has driven competitively for most of his life, which means he’s pretty good at flinging just about anything with four wheels around a corner with low-to-no grip.
Surprisingly, even with a gentle rain creating a mud plain filled with gravel cement, the Subie snapped left with no throttle input whatsoever. Waiting, it seems, does produce very good results.
“The best brakers are the best drivers,” Duplessis philosophized. “Now instead of waiting, apply the brakes gently with your left foot. Then once you feel the weight move forward and the grip appears, roll onto the throttle. See what happens.”
With a Euro-spec 300-plus-hp, 2.0-liter boxer and five-speed manual dogbox under its composite hood, the lightened and reinforced STI hauls copious amounts of ass. If I keep the revs up high enough in any gear I’ll be churning mud for days.
I roll onto the throttle after a smooth brake engagement, but the rear end immediately slides out. I’ve spun and stalled.
“Too much go-pedal,” Duplessis surmises.
The next time around, I get the hang of it. My speed rises, and the order of operation becomes more natural. The key is to be completely smooth.
As the rain falls harder, we move on to the slalom. The lesson plan’s difficulty just doubled.
“Look up and towards to the next cone, but always remember LTB,” says my co-driver. “I want to feel those brakes!”
Easier said than done. I’m having a hard time remembering the LTB order of operations as my speed climbs. All the years of brake-then-turn track driving are ingrained into to my brain and muscle memory. If that wasn’t detrimental enough, my eyes wander to the closest cone, not two cones down.
“Good, you’re getting the hang of it. Now let’s do it again,” Duplessis encourages. He repeats that for the next eight runs. Each revolution on the pad, I’m reciting, “LTB, LTB, LTB…”
By the tenth go, I’m confident on the muddy slalom.
“You’re ready. Want to try something fun?” Duplessis teases from the passenger seat. “Next time you turn around on the course, turn in, grab the e-brake, downshift to first, then get on the throttle. You really have to feel the entire orchestration. Let’s see what happens.”
Coming into a coned hairpin on mud at 40 mph in a crackling second gear — with rain pelting the composite panels and body heat fogging my windshield — is probably the most thrilling way to undertake a full e-brake slide and turn. And this is on my first try.
As soon as I pull the brake, the rear end kicks out, and the front stays planted. Everything outside of the cockpit rotates in a matter of milliseconds. The boxer’s revs die. I stall. Great.
“All good. Let’s try again. You got this! Just keep the revs up and roll onto the throttle, then it’s into the cone attacking all over again,” Duplessis says. Throughout my training session, his encouragement and excitement never wane.
With 40 clicks on the speedo, I attack my lonely cone once more — this time with complete WRC no-blink focus and determination. This cone will not defeat me.
I turn in, pull the brake, swing the butt around, clutch in, shift down into first, and mash the throttle. I realize the engine is still alive and revving, and we’re moving forward fast. My eyes fixate on the cone immediately ahead of me, then the next. Second gear caught, the original LTB comes back into play and it’s on to the last cones.
“Awesome! Time to play on our course. Head over there,” Duplessis points to a multistory wooden building. It’s the tallest freestanding wooden building in the country, DirtFish claims, and was widely seen in the recent Global RallyCross.
The 0.7-mile course has 12 makeshift turns, each varying in severity and size. Duplessis runs me through it three times. I tackle it cautiously at first, braking after I turn in. On certain very slippery tarmac corners, I brake well ahead of the apex, then turn and wait.
By my third lap, I’m throwing the orange STI sideways with complete confidence and control. My orchestration amazes me. My right foot modulates the slim pedal while the diff chatters wildly, my right arm yanks at the E-brake, my left foot dances between brake and clutch. Whoever said rallying was easy has never properly tried it.
“Dude, you rock. In a matter of hours, you became a better braker,” Duplessis says with a smile and a fist bump. “Good job, man.”
Luckily for me, becoming a better “braker” also means not breaking anything or anybody during my day in the dirt. And that sounds as good as straight cut cogs in a racing dogbox.
For more information on what Dirtfish has to offer, check out their website at http://www.dirtfish.com
Editor’s Note: While I generally describe how to flog a car around, I strongly advise against doing it unless you’re at a closed complex like DirtFish with an experienced instructor like Duplessis.
Photo Credit: Sean M. Donough, Nate Martinez
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