The 56th annual Ostrich and Camel Races wrapped up this weekend in Virginia City. Our reporter Julia Ritchey took the challenge of racing a camel and sends us this audio postcard.
"This can be dangerous. This can be dangerous. You can get hurt. You signed a release, releasing me of all liability and I don't expect any of you to sue me..."
Joe Hedrick is giving me and about 20 other local media reps a serious orientation on camel racing. He runs the namesake Hedrick Promotions and exhibits camels, ostriches, zebras and other exotic animals around the country, including the annual Virginia City races for more than a decade.
"You can change your mind until them gates open," says Hedrick. "Once those gates open, you can't say, 'Woah, I don't want to ride.'"
With that warning, we all turn in our waivers and gaze at the hot, dusty arena overlooking the hills. This tradition dates back to the Comstock mining era of the 1860s — though the present-day race was firmly established around 1960.
"It was kind of a hoax the first one, it really didn't even happen," says Hedrick. "It just happened in the newspaper. They wrote a story, a fictitious story, but the next year it came to life."
Since then, the event has become a staple of the old mining town, where tourists from across the region come to see the spectacle.
"My name is Karla Burrell, and I am a professional ostrich jockey, camel jockey and zebra jockey."
Burrell lives in Virginia City and owns the Washoe Club Saloon. She started racing about 15 years ago after meeting Hedrick and was recruited to join his stable of professional riders.
She insists there’s really no way to prepare for a race.
"You really don't," she says. "There's really no practicing; it's all about balance. Horseback riding is a huge plus."
I haven't ridden a horse since I was a kid, but she tells me not to worry. She says camels aren't nearly as difficult as ostriches.
"In 2011, I was riding an ostrich; I won the race, slid off the back of the bird like you do. I failed to look behind me and got run over by an ostrich behind me and shattered my clavicle," says Burrell. "That was memorable."
[Nats of first camel race]
The first few camel races are now underway and while extremely bumpy looking, no one from the Reno-Gazette Journal or TV networks have fallen off yet.
Australian jockey Shorty Smith wins the first ostrich race of the day, of course, his only prize is bragging rights. He says he was lucky when another competitor was ejected from his bird.
"His bird stopped, which is ostrich racing, and they can do that," he says. "Sometimes they won't get that far and they'll stop off in a corner and just go into a spin like a washing machine or a clothes dryer, so you just sit there or you just bail out."
Soon my turn is up and I slip my audio recorder inside a fanny pack and head to chute number two where a shaggy, single-hump camel named Trey looks ready to take us into warp overdrive.
The gates open and I immediately lose my hat and begin yelling like a sports fanatic. I'm in the lead but lose some speed around the curve and end up placing second out of third.
After the race, I tell Hedrick and the crowd of a couple hundred people what it felt like.
"It was like riding a sack of sweet potatoes on a treadmill," I tell the crowd.
Back at the sidelines, a few of the jockeys and rodeo hands pat me on the back. I now understand why riders like Burrell keep racing.
"I guess I'm kind of an adrenaline junkie," says Burrell. "I still get a rush of adrenaline in the chute no matter what I'm riding. Those chutes open and it's just awesome."
Would I race a camel again? Absolutely, but I'll leave those ostriches to the professionals.
