"Hammer Lung:" While there’s no official entry in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, anyone who's spent a week in Johnson Valley, California, during the annual King of the Hammers race can attest that Hammer Lung is a thing, and it sucks.
An ominous cloud of dust looms over the lakebed as thousands of UTVs, 4x4s, dirt bikes, quads, and caravans crisscross the desert floor below. The wind can clear the air at times, but also creates a sort of sandstorm, covering cars and trucks and race vehicles in a light brown powder. That same powder finds its way into your lungs, and after a few days, your boogers are brown and you’ve developed a dry cough.
But that’s a small price to pay to attend the largest gathering of off-road enthusiasts in the world, no? An event that has drawn harsh criticism, lit up social media feeds with fights and tomfoolery, but is also the only place to see UTVs and 4400 Unlimited Class cars race across the desert and through the rocky canyons that litter the 100,000 acres of public land presided over by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).
KOH celebrated its 20th anniversary this year - two decades of racing and rock crawling in the Southern California desert.
This milestone was celebrated the only way Dave Cole (co-founder of KOH) and his crew know how, by creating a racecourse that was so demanding and difficult, only two racers finished, after thirteen hours of racing.
Personally, I felt like this was a reaction to what happened last year, when a UTV piloted by Kyle Chaney won the Ultra4 Race of Kings, besting a field of 4400 Unlimited Class cars. But that’s a hot take for another time. There were other celebrations throughout the week to highlight the 20th anniversary of KOH, but ultimately the event as a whole went down like years prior – qualifying followed by racing, augmented by wild parties in Hammertown and chaos on Chocolate Thunder.
That last bit, though, is what KOH has come to be known for: chaos. Fights and fireworks, late-night parties and conspicuous overconsumption. But that’s not what KOH was or wants to be. Has it grown too big, graduated high school, and gone full Frat Boy? While the evidence, certainly on social media, is damning, the underlying issue is, as is so often the case, a few bad apples spoiling the proverbial bunch.
KOH is a crazy place; there’s no denying that. It’s been called the “Burning Man of Off-Road,” and honestly, that’s pretty spot on. While the Rangers step in when necessary, KOH is self-governing to some degree. Dave Cole and his team keep a watchful eye on Hammertown and the surrounding desert, and although social media might make it look like things are completely out of hand, most of that can be avoided for the average off-road enthusiast.
This isn’t a grassroots event thrown together by a few friends with a common interest, though, not anymore. KOH is a machine. Merchandise is sold, entry fees collected, wrist bands made mandatory and Hammertown is, well, just that, a small town full of shops and eateries and common areas where race fans gather to watch the action on the big screen above the podium. Obviously, the event has grown over the two decades since its inception, but I wonder if it’s grown too big?
There are organizations and individuals that would like nothing more than KOH to be a thing of the past. The BLM land where the racing takes place edges a United States Marine Corps base, which, along with folks who aren’t in favor of public land, are working toward shutting the event down entirely. This year’s event didn’t do its public image any favors, unfortunately. But that’s the price of growth. Hosting tens of thousands of off-road racers and Silver Bullet-slinging spectators in a dry lakebed is like a petri dish for bad behavior. The BLM does what it can to keep things cool, but ultimately it's up to those in attendance to self-govern and self-regulate.
KOH is a showcase, the Westminster Dog Show for off-road enthusiasts. You drive out to the Means Dry Lake Bed to strut your stuff. Set up camp, unload your 4x4 or UTV and either compete in one of the many classes, or explore the desert with friends and fellow enthusiasts, ending your days in Hammertown for dinner and debauchery. Honestly, I love it. Hammer Lung be damned. But an event like this can’t continue if the community itself turns a blind eye to the bad behavior that I scrolled through on social media.
Is it too big? Probably. But like all things, it will evolve. The crowd either controls itself, gets controlled by the BLM and other local authorities, or Dave Cole shuts the whole damn thing down. Personally, I’d like to see folks take some responsibility for the bullshit that goes on, because if we don’t, KOH will become Burning Man, a once good-intentioned exercise of self-expression turned circus for idiots without self-control.
