After completing the Morocco Desert Challenge and Baja Qatar International Rally on his 1980 Honda XL125S, Greg Gilson entered Mexico’s Baja 1000. We needed to know what happened next
‘Every metre is a challenge. Brutal, mega hell!’ says the Greg Gilson, the self-proclaimed Small CC Savage, describing sections of the Baja 1000. The extreme off-road race which loops around Mexico’s Baja peninsula has roots dating back to 1962, when top US off-road racers Dave Ekins and Bill Robertson Jr devised the route, but the first race, as we recognise it now, took place in 1967. The Baja 1000 is nominally 1000 miles, attempted non-stop, not a multi-day stage rally like the Dakar.
‘This year it was 854 miles (1366km), and the distance has to be completed in less than 36 hours,’ Greg explains. ‘On paper it doesn’t look so crazy, but after all the races I’ve done in my life, I can swear that I’ve never put my wheels on [a route] so destroyed and crazy!’
Like the Dakar, the race is open to different categories of vehicles including the Trophy Trucks – 1000bhp pick-ups and suspension travel that allows them to surf over the huge bumps of the Baja trails. There are various car categories, plus side-by-side buggies (also known as UTVs – Utility Terrain Vehicles) and motorbikes.
There are several ways to race the Baja 1000 on a motorbike: in a team of four or five riders who complete sections like a relay team, or to race solo in the Ironman category, the one Greg chose [we have written about another friend of Kriega, Eddie Meek who raced in Baja’s Ironman class]. The motorcycle entry for the November 2025 race was over 60 motorbikes, and, according to Greg, 21 of them were in the Ironman category. Only Greg was attempting it on a modified 1980s Honda 125, fitted with an OS-BASE and OS-Adventure Packs. ‘This year, the oldest bike after mine was a 2000 Honda XR600.’
The incredible Small CC Savage Honda War Machine Photo @TryHyo
The first trial was actually getting to the start line. Greg splits his time between France and Morocco, half a world away from Mexico.
‘I estimated the total race budget to be €30,000 (£26,000, $40,000) and I can say it was accurate. The main challenge was coming from Europe with a team of four people including myself, shipping my bike there, and producing the content. It’s a lot of logistics.’
Greg decided to see if companies and individuals would support his dream.
Kriega OS-Rackless on Greg’s Small CC Savage Honda XL125S Photo: @tryHyo
‘I don’t like asking, but I saw the date coming closer and I knew I couldn’t succeed without asking, so I created a crowdfunding website and produced promotional content. We had no results at the beginning, but my girlfriend Lediana and I kept pushing. It was really difficult, long nights without sleep, doubts every day. At the beginning you don’t have big results, then you start getting some donations and a few private sponsors joining, so you’re happy, but the second phase is even more stressful.
‘Even if you’ve raised €10,000, you start paying registration fees and buying flight tickets to get the best prices, so all the money's gone. Then you’re trapped, because if it stops, how do you explain to people that you can’t go because you didn’t reach €30,000, but the money is already gone anyway?’
But it did work, and Greg packed up his trusty 1980 Honda XLS for the flight to California. ‘I only have one bike, and I had a vintage motocross race at the end of August. After that, the bike had to be fully rebuilt, so shipping it by boat was impossible, and the price difference wasn’t that much anyway.’
Even freighting it by air wasn’t without difficulty. ‘The bike was four days late, it was super tricky! I was told “Even if the bike arrives on Monday, it will be difficult to pass customs.” But I had to be in Ensenada on Monday evening!’
The city of Ensenada, is over the US/Mexico border, 200 miles from Los Angeles airport. But Greg’s luck changed. The customs process was quick, and by the time his mechanic and cameraman had landed, Greg was ready to go. The rental company didn’t have the correct vehicle for him, so a pick-up truck change at San Diego airport was forced on him by the rental company, then onto the Mexican border…
‘We reached the border at 11pm. “Hello, what are you coming for?” asked the customs officer. I told them, the Baja 1000. They asked for race number, name, and passport. The officer called someone, and one minute later we were allowed into Mexico. To compare, the same thing in Morocco would take four or five hours.’
Photo: @melanyalvarado15x
Greg now had a few days of admin and preparation before the race start at 00:30 on Friday morning. Tuesday was racer registration and tech inspection. Greg was in for a pleasant culture shock.
‘I immediately understood the huge difference between the European and US ways of doing things. In Moroccan rallies or the Dakar, that are run by European organisations, they check absolutely all your documents… It never ends and there’s always a surprise, something extra they need. Here, I was prepared like never before, a folder under my arm — and they asked me nothing! I was thinking, “What? That’s it?”’ In Europe, people always consider the organiser responsible for everything. Here, you are responsible for yourself. You sign the document and ‘Let’s go’. I prefer this way of thinking. We are motorbike riders, we’re not crazy, we always try to be careful. But this makes you responsible for yourself and your team.’
The next day was taken up with what is referred to as contingency, plus rider briefing, transponder checks, bike checks, and media duties. Every racer is interviewed for a livestreamed broadcast.
‘Many Mexican and American people already knew me from Facebook and Instagram. It was impossible to walk through the contingency with the bike without being stopped every 20 metres. The race organisers, SCORE International do a live webcast and let you introduce yourself. They are really interested in why you’re there and your story.’
Greg rode the same bike he used for the Kriega supported film, Trust Me, but with some modifications.
‘The engine was not the same. I had a 185cc for Trust Me, and a 200cc for the Baja. I had a mousse in the front tire, a new electrical system, and many new parts, but only for maintenance. Otherwise, it was exactly the same bike.’
Thursday was another day of preparation, as the course is only open to the fastest four-wheelers for qualifying. The motorcycles and quads start at midnight on Thursday, leaving at intervals in the first hours of Friday morning. The Trophy Trucks start nine hours later.
‘In reality, Thursday is not a day off, because you have to be at the startline at 11pm. You pack all your stuff to be absolutely ready. I couldn’t sleep in the evening, and suddenly it was 10pm, time to gear up and go to the start, and the start in Ensenada is absolutely crazy. When you arrive you see all the spectator lights. It was hugely emotional. After several months of hard work and sacrifices, I was there, on my little Honda XLS.’
In the weeks before the race, the course is open for ‘pre-running’, allowing drivers, with the budget to do so, to familiarise themselves with the course and obstacles. This means the tracks is already deeply rutted.
‘The terrain itself isn’t so different from Morocco, but Morocco is so big that we always ride on fresh tracks. Imagine a race that opens the track to all vehicles two weeks before the start. Imagine terrain raced since 1967 by all kinds of vehicles, over an area 1600km long but only 80km wide (1000 by 50 miles). Racing in Baja, you learn the true meaning of the word destroyed. There is absolutely no comparison. I did the Dakar in 2019 (as a co-driver in a four-wheeler) and many motocross races, and I can swear that in terms of track destruction, Baja 1000 has absolutely no challenger. All other races in the world are red carpets in comparison,’ says Greg.
‘The Baja 1000 is like five Dakar special stages after all the cars and trucks have passed, and you still have only 36 hours to finish,’ he continues. ‘To set the mood, they make you ride the 30 miles of Trophy Truck qualifying track at night. Visibility is absolutely insane. I wasn’t prepared for this. Now I know to improve on my lights. I couldn’t even see one metre ahead, and you can get trapped in deep fech fech [the fine sand that saps a bike’s power, and causes endless front end tucks]. The first 50 miles are pure hell. I saw riders on 450s abandon there.’
When Greg had problems of his own, it was down to his old bike’s carburettor. ‘This bike has a real issue with that part, nothing really reliable exists. I lost 90 minutes because of it, so from 8am to 3pm I attacked non-stop. I can say I wasn’t very gentle with grandma during that time.’ At 3pm, nearly 15 hours into the race, Greg became aware of a helicopter above him. The Trophy Trucks had caught him up, and some of the fastest ones were driven by racing legends like Toby Price and Robby Gordon.
‘They’re not more impressive than Dakar or Moroccan rally trucks, but there’s one big difference: they will not brake, even if they see you. They caught me in a big fech-fech area. Staying on the track was suicide, because I couldn’t get out of the way due to cactus, and they wouldn’t change their line either. I had to wait almost two hours in total until they passed. Next time, I know I can’t be caught before nightfall, like happened to me in 2025. If it happens, you’re f***ed. At night it’s easier, because you see big lights moving, which means they’re still 500m behind you.’
If Greg was being honest he’d admit 2025 was a learning year, and his race ended early.
‘Around 5pm, after 16h30 of riding, I tried to reach the finish line at Enseneda, but first you must cross the peninsula’s rocky mountains at night. It requires full focus, high-level riding, and good physical condition. Then there was a 160km (100 miles) road liaison. I was falling asleep. 700km into the race it was time to enter hell again: sand and fech fech and cactus, all at night. After 100km of this I reached the refuelling and heard a bad noise from my engine. I checked the Thermax sticker. It read 154°C. I asked the refuel guy how long it would be until I saw my team again.’
“160km,” he told me.
’Is it like the last 100km?’
“Worse, my man.”
‘Any chance my team can reach me if I break down?’
“If you stop there, it takes two days to pick you up.”
‘At that moment, I knew continuing would put my team at risk, miss our return flight, and lose the rental car. I had to choose. Play with my ego and continue with a 20% chance, or admit that this time, the Baja God won.’
After dismantling the engine, Greg found a leaking exhaust valve. Stopping was the right decision, but he was philosophical.
‘This experience was incredible, but it’s the first time I didn’t finish a challenge with my War Machine. I was disappointed at first, but this is not the end. It’s the beginning of a big story. This project brought many good things, because in life, actions bring actions. The new team managing my bike has an insane level of knowledge. They work with an official WEC LMP1 team [Le Mans Prototype cars], so we’re developing parts at a level never seen for a bike like mine. I also found investors to launch my Savage CC parts brand, dedicated to XLS bikes. And also I’m co-organiser of a rally in Morocco in 2026 called Ouzina Challenge, the first real timed rally raid for vintage and simple bikes,’ says Greg. ‘I want to thank all my partners and everyone who supported the crowdfunding. It’s not every day that people believe in a guy who goes to war with a toothpick as his main weapon. And, of course, I’m going back to the Baja 1000 in 2026!’
For the Baja 1000 Greg used
Kriega OS-BASE Rackless Luggage System
Kriega Trail18 backpack
Kriega Roam Harness Pocket XL
Kriega 3L Heavy-Duty Reservoir
Kriega OS Tool Roll
Kriega Front Haul Loop
To get your own, order directly from kriega.com or head to your local dealer for a closer look
Kriega UK dealer network
Kriega Worldwide importers
To learn more about Greg and his Small CC Savage Honda, read our interview and watch Trust Me, the film Kriega made with him. Follow @greggils42