A pretty hectic situation did unfold last week, which was a reality check for a few mates and myself. I’ll tell the story because it could happen to anyone who rides dirt bikes – especially off-road riders!

We were out riding last Thursday afternoon, about an hour south of Sydney. There was Wonka (Brad Williscroft), his younger brother Mark and Ben Burrell.

We’d ventured into some gnarly terrain with hills, rock ledges and all the challenging stuff we like to incorporate into a trail ride.

Within this epic trail loop, Mark and Wonka have test tracks cut in, which are generally pretty rough and good to moto on for training sake.

So, we end up on this sand track that cuts through ferns and fairly open forest at the top of a good climb. There’s rock, ruts, a few whoops and the odd tree outlining about a 1.5 minute lap.

We all randomly enter the track and start circulating at our own pace. The Williscroft boys are very territorial and generally use any visitors as wild game to hunt and pass in a demoralizing fashion.

At least that’s what I’ve come to expect from Wonka over the years. As for his younger brother Mark, the kid can ride but lacks experience.

Anyway, I’m at the back of a three-man train led by Mark, who is soon undercut by Wonka through a turn. Before Mark can recompose, I’ve also railed the inside turn and made the pass as well.

A lap later, I hear Mark on my tail again as we’re threading through the forest track at a decent pace. Then suddenly I can’t hear his engine bearing down on me.

Immediately I pull up and turn to see Mark strewn across the track next to his bike, which is laying offset to a decent size tree. In waves of despair, he’s murmuring the words “ohh noo” and rolling side-to-side in pain.

At first it’s hard to tell how hurt he actually is, until he unstraps his helmet, throws it to the side and begins explaining how he felt the bike snap his lower leg against the tree. By this time Wonka and Ben have arrived.

“What have you done?” says Wonka – with all the compassion of a big brother who’s seen it all before. “I’ve broken my leg,” replies Mark – in a tone far too cool for the situation. “Whatta ya mean it’s broken?” replies Wonks, walking around Mark’s leg ready to kick his boot to see if it’s actually broken. “I can feel the bones moving around and shit, this is f%$ked!” replies Mark.

Right there I could see how pale Mark was getting and we wasted no more time in rigging up a splint. As careful as we could, we lifted the broken leg onto his good leg and sandwhiched a sturdy stick in between his boots, then noosed the calf region together with Brad’s jersey. It was a good splint.

With all the shuffling and slinging, Mark was unbelievably composed for someone with a broken leg, but the real concern came when he said he could feel blood filling up in his boot. To put it blunt, there was no time to mess around – we had to get him out of there!

The biggest stress was getting him out of the forest, so I’d made the executive decision to prop him sidesaddle on the back of my bike and ride him out of there.

I lent my bike against a tree, the three of us lifted him onto the seat with his splinted legs dangling down near the swingarm.

I slipped through onto the seat, started the bike, Mark looped his arms round my neck and we proceeded to tractor through the next three or so km’s of single track – in first gear!

Doing my best not to catch his legs on rocks, branches, logs and stumps, we traversed rock ledges, rutted hills and even the odd fallen tree.

All the while Mark was chatting in my ear, expressing the disappointment in his 350SX-F, saying the MX’er is too aggressive for the bush and he needs an EXC enduro bike.

All this was a good sign he was with it and not about to pass out or roll off my bike. It took about 30mins to get Mark out of the bush and onto a road, where we’d already planned to meet Wonka with the car.

In just over an hour, Mark was safely in the hands of paramedics, who revealed he’d snapped both the tib and fib bones in his lower leg, which had also punched a hole out the back of his calf and caused some pretty severe bleeding.

The best decision we made was not to piss around trying to get an ambulance into the bush, but get Mark to the ambulance instead. As it were, the paramedic had Mark transferred to a bigger hospital, to rule out any concerns of him losing his leg.

If there’s anything to be learnt out of this, you should never ride by yourself. And, at least one of you should always carry a phone.

Providing you don’t suspect any back or neck injuries, it’s worth doing all you can to fast track an injured rider to hospital – once you’ve stabilised them – as it could take hours to orchestrate a rescue to the crash scene.

’Till next week.