HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER VACATION SAND SURFING IN FRANCE

Yesterday at 12:00 PM

Bud Racing’s Training Camp facility is located in Magescq, France, with sand tracks, a kids track, a vet track, and it even has an area for freestyle ramps.Photo by Thibault Gastal

By Dennis Stapleton

To most people, France is known for its fancy food, luxury brands, world-class museums and the Eiffel Tower. But, for dirt bike racers like me, France is all about thrilling beach races. The biggest, baddest beach race is the Le Touquet race in February, where over 2000 riders gather for an adrenaline-fueled weekend in the sand.  

This year, though, there’s a new contender on the scene: the first annual Sand Festival at Bud Racing’s facility in Southern France. The track, which opened in 2018 in Magescq and hosted its first race in the 2020 French Elite Championship, has quickly become a hotspot for motocross enthusiasts.

After years of cultivating his brand and facility, Stephane Dasse, the mastermind behind Bud Racing, envisioned an event that would give back to the community and capture the same spirit as iconic gatherings like Day in the Dirt and Holland’s Zwarte Cross, both of which I’ve raced in the past.

FOR YEARS, I HAD CHASED SAND RACES ALL OVER THE GLOBE—FROM THE ENDURO DEL VERANO IN ARGENTINA TO THE KAMISU CITY BEACH RACE IN JAPAN— AIMING TO SOMEDAY MAKE IT TO LE TOUQUET.

For years, I had chased sand races all over the globe—from the Enduro del Verano in Argentina to the Kamisu City Beach Race in Japan—aiming to someday make it to Le Touquet. Just before Covid hit, my friend Eric Peronnard had even reached out to the Yamaha team to get me a spot at Le Touquet so I could cover the event for MXA and race it, but with the world shutting down, it felt like that dream was fading away, especially as I found myself aging in “dog years.”

Fast-forward to this year’s Anaheim Supercross, where I bumped into Stephane from Bud Racing. We chatted about testing some new mufflers, and I shared my sand-race aspirations. Stephane recommended I ride a warm-up race to get a feel for the wet sand that Europe has to offer. He told me it’s unlike anything I’ve ever ridden. We don’t have many sand tracks and literally no beach races in SoCal, but the MXA wrecking crew always races the Lake Havasu WORCS race. It’s far from the ocean, but it is the sandiest race that we can find. Plus, it’s always fun to race with your friends. 

The French pits almost look like Florida with the tall and skinny trees.Photo by Thibault Gastal

A few months later, Stephane emailed me the details about the Bud Racing-sponsored 2024 Sand Festival, and before I knew it, everything was set in motion. Initially, I planned to ride a Bud Racing Kawasaki, but Stephane knew I would be more comfortable on a Honda CRF450. So, he reached out to his friends at VB Racing, who generously offered me a Honda CRF450 and provided me with great support throughout the race. I was stoked to have a familiar ride lined up. 

Of course, I couldn’t head to the south of France without Alva, my constant companion at many of my beach racing adventures. She quickly became the team captain, booking our flights and planning the trip. I soon found out there would be a layover at London Gatwick Airport for sightseeing before heading to Bordeaux, France, and making the two-hour drive to Hossegor, a well-known surf town. 

Dennis opted for the furthest rut on the outside.Photo by Thibault Gastal

Hossegor was buzzing with activity, thanks to the Quicksilver Surf Festival happening alongside the race, and our Airbnb was within walking distance of the water and a small village. After settling in, we made our way to the Bud Racing camp to pick up my pass and a one-day French racing license. With the sun shining and track conditions looking prime, we returned to Hossegor for dinner and some beach time. 

The weekend kicked off with vintage and two-stroke races, all under perfect track conditions. I took this time to break in my new Honda CRF450, snap a lot of photos and test Bud Racing’s Tomasin R&D CR500 engine nestled in a 2024 CRF chassis. The atmosphere was electric, but as the sun set, the weather changed. By the time we got to dinner, the rain began pouring, and it didn’t let up all night.

Dennis has raced a motorcycle in more countries than most people can name. He’s raced in over 40 countries now—most of them several times.Photo by Thibault Gastal

I woke up to puddles of water on the beach, and I was even more worried about frying the clutch or sinking the new bike in the mud. The race format was a 15-minute practice session to qualify for gate pick, with the congregation lined up in rows based on their lap times. When qualifying started, I just rode around, trying to manage the chaotic track and dodge other riders, but frustration began to set in, as getting a clean lap felt nearly impossible. Before I knew it, the checkered flag waved, and I was still trying to adapt to the soft, rutted conditions.

THE WEEKEND KICKED OFF WITH VINTAGE AND TWO-STROKE RACES, ALL UNDER PERFECT TRACK CONDITIONS. I TOOK THIS TIME TO BREAK IN MY NEW HONDA CRF450, SNAP A LOT OF PHOTOS AND TEST BUD RACING’S TOMASIN R&D CR500 ENGINE NESTLED IN A 2024 CRF CHASSIS.

Back at the van, I was wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I had drained all my energy just trying to get in a good lap. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle the race without smoking the clutch. My Danish friends handed me some cleaning supplies and snacks to prep for the first moto. Riding to the track, I noticed a tunnel leading to the starting gate. I could see the track at the other end of the tunnel, and I realized that if I could just avoid falling, my chances could be solid. When I checked in with the track marshals, they told me I’d qualified second fastest, but then they stopped me from going to the line. They wanted to know why I wasn’t wearing gloves. Due to the language barrier, it was hard to understand what they were saying, but once I figured it out, I showed them my zip-lock bag where I kept my goggles and gloves dry. 

After three hard-fought motos, Dennis managed to squeeze out a win and earn his time with the announcer.Photo by Thibault Gastal

As the rain started pouring, I took my spot on the starting line, completely unsure of what was about to happen. The whistle blew, and it felt like an organized circus as everyone dashed to their places. I could feel the intensity as riders squeezed their bikes into position beside me. When the 15-second board went sideways, I fumbled with my bike and slammed it into gear, only to scramble back to neutral before the five-second board appeared. 

These conditions separate the men from the boys.

When the gate dropped, I rocketed out, navigating a war zone of churned-up dirt, unsure of where to go but knowing I had a pack of riders hot on my tail. After a lap, my heart was racing, and I was panting like a dog. A KX450 roared behind me like I was blocking traffic on the 405 freeway. I regretted leaving my spare clutch at home in order to accommodate the high heels and other stuff Alva had stuffed in my gear bag. I decided to play it safe for a bit and see what the French KX rider on my six had in mind. After some back-and-forth jostling, I found myself in the lead with a lap to go, only to get passed by him in the final 50 feet. 

HOSSEGOR WAS BUZZING WITH ACTIVITY, THANKS TO THE QUICKSILVER SURF FESTIVAL HAPPENING ALONGSIDE THE RACE, AND OUR AIRBNB WASWITHIN WALKING DISTANCE OF THE WATER AND A SMALL VILLAGE.

Exiting the track, I learned we had to wait for everyone to finish the race since where we exited was still being used at the racetrack. I had two hours to regroup before the second moto. VB Racing prepped the bike, and I tested my luck with some surprisingly good French cafeteria food. As I geared up, I was amazed by how quickly the track crew prepped the course. I felt relieved—until I realized that the fresh track was actually much faster and harder to ride. Once the race started, I struggled in the fluffy soft sand and bounced around, but as the track deteriorated, I got more comfortable, and I managed to work my way back up to second place again.

Jacky Balateau and his daughter, Clarou, with Dennis. Jacky owns VB Racing and was kind enough to lend Dennis a bike.Photo by Thibault Gastal

As I finished the second moto, I thought the day was over—only to learn it was a three-moto format. I vowed to learn a little French before I agreed to race there again. Now dehydrated and cramping, I scrambled to regroup to get ready for the final moto. Time was tight, and as the two hours flew by, I hadn’t even started putting my gear on when they called us to the gate. While putting on my boots, I began to feel leg cramps—not ideal for a rutted sand track. I chugged another bottle of fluid and ate a couple of mustard packets, hoping it would kick in by the time the flag dropped.

AS I FINISHED THE SECOND MOTO, I THOUGHT THE DAY WAS OVER—ONLY TO LEARN IT WAS A THREE-MOTO FORMAT. I VOWED TO LEARN A LITTLE FRENCH
BEFORE I AGREED TO RACE THERE AGAIN.

Managing the deep and muddy sand track without abusing the clutch was its own challenge.Photo by Thibault Gastal

As we flew into the first turn, John Marillier zipped past me over a jump, barely holding on. The track was mostly destroyed from the day’s racing. I decided to let John tow me around while I tried to learn the new lines I needed. That didn’t last long, as he tipped over, giving me the lead. After a quick remount, he was back on my tail, and I kept telling myself to “dig deep.” It felt like an endless moto as the laps dragged on. Finally, John got around me, but with two laps to go, he got blocked by lappers, allowing me to regain the lead. As I fought to keep my feet up and not abuse the clutch, I was determined to win at least one moto. When the checkered flag flew, I took the win, earning second overall with a 2-2-1 score, and it made the entire trip worthwhile.

As the racing wrapped up, I became Alva’s Uber driver for our well-orchestrated sightseeing adventures, but first I made a quick stop at Bud Racing’s headquarters to wash my boots and gear. Time flew by as I explored the old bikes and cool parts they had. I had nearly forgotten about the two days of sightseeing I promised Alva. I scrambled to ask my long-time friend Benjamin Garib, who rides the EMX 250F class for Bud Racing, if he could hang up my gear so I could hurry out to see some beach and castle views. Alva had planned nonstop activities, and she found it amusing that my tired, jelly-like legs would have to walk miles around Biarritz.

Villa Belza is a historic villa in Biarrtiz, France. Built at the end of the 19th century, it’s in an elegant seaside town on the southwestern French Basque coast.

On our final day, we headed back to Bordeaux, the wine city, where we explored old churches, indulged in delicious food, and I practiced parking in the tiniest spots I have ever seen. What started as a racing trip turned into a whirlwind adventure. I realized that every moment, every race, was worth it.

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