dakar stage 6: fiambala to copiapo

day 14 - 6th january 2012

liaison 394km

special 247km

total 641km

start time 04:15

(special cancelled but route approx 640km)

when we were on the truck with the locals i had called rory back in the uk to tell him what we were doing in case something went wrong and because it was such and adventure that i wanted to share it and with rory who'd been such a massive driver with the charity fund raising and general motivator - he sent some awesome texts through. in fact i received some wonderful texts through the rally, from my brother barney and my daily focus note from glenn, they were very touching and a real help during some of the darker moments of the rally. rory had then stayed in touch and most importantly he'd texted e to say the following day's special had been cancelled, so it was only a liaison, hang on in!

now in jago's film he says i had 2 hours in the bivouac before i had to start the 10 hour liaison, i had in fact only just over an hour to have a well deserved dump, a shower, something to eat - thanks to john who's brought a load of breakfast items over from the mess tent - before climbing into a sleeping bag on patsy's cushions next to the truck. 30 minutes later patsy woke me gently and said "tobe, you've got 10 minutes to leave the bivouac!". i had been in the wonderful deep sleep, away in some very peaceful, restful place, but the nightmare had started over again. with relatively clean gear to put on and not bothering with knee breaces or a neck brace, i wore my rab jacket under the race jacket, wore the neck scarfe over my face, fitted the wind proof liner to my lid and put on the thicker gloves i had found in mar del plata - not the goretex klim gloves i'd bought especially for this crossing. pockets stuffed with food, including bread sarnies mart had made for me - such a sweetie ; )) i was off and gone.

it was a strange feeling, as i was riding without jago for the first time and this is how it would be from now on.......we'd not had a chance to even talk about me continuing or jago having to stop, everything had happened so fast.

the scenery was stunning. we were high up on the 4000m altiplano, surrounded by 5000m+ mountains and exstinct snow-capped volcanoes. when i had travelled on the altiplano 16 years before it had been just track, not tarmac. the riding was easy. i was comfortably warm although the mesh motocross pants were a little breezy, could have done with leggings ; )) the hours and miles just rolled by and then i hit the wall again, i had to sleep. looking for a half-decent and safe spot to get my head down for a 5 minute catnap, i pulled up next to an aqua blue lake surrounded by glistening white sand. other riders and travellers were also there. as i stopped, the dakar motorcade trundled on, it was as if i'd stepped off a conveyor belt. lid off, i lay on the ground and went to sleep.

when we were on the truck with the locals i had called rory back in the uk to tell him what we were doing in case something went wrong and because it was such and adventure that i wanted to share it and with rory who'd been such a massive driver with the charity fund raising and general motivator - he sent some awesome texts through. in fact i received some wonderful texts through the rally, from my brother barney and my daily focus note from glenn, they were very touching and a real help during some of the darker moments of the rally. rory had then stayed in touch and most importantly he'd texted e to say the following day's special had been cancelled, so it was only a liaison, hang on in!


now in jago's film he says i had 2 hours in the bivouac before i had to start the 10 hour liaison, i had in fact only just over an hour to have a well deserved dump, a shower, something to eat - thanks to john who's brought a load of breakfast items over from the mess tent - before climbing into a sleeping bag on patsy's cushions next to the truck. 30 minutes later patsy woke me gently and said "tobe, you've got 10 minutes to leave the bivouac!". i had been in the wonderful deep sleep, away in some very peaceful, restful place, but the nightmare had started over again. with relatively clean gear to put on and not bothering with knee breaces or a neck brace, i wore my rab jacket under the race jacket, wore the neck scarfe over my face, fitted the wind proof liner to my lid and put on the thicker gloves i had found in mar del plata - not the goretex klim gloves i'd bought especially for this crossing. pockets stuffed with food, including bread sarnies mart had made for me - such a sweetie ; )) i was off and gone.


it was a strange feeling, as i was riding without jago for the first time and this is how it would be until i finished at whatever point in time that would be.


the scenery was stunning. we were high up on the 4000m altiplano, surrounded by 5000m+ mountains and exstinct snow-capped volcanoes. when i had travelled on the altiplano 16 years before it had been just track, not tarmac. the riding was easy. i was comfortably warm although the mesh motocross pants were a little breezy, could have done with leggings ; )) the hours and miles just rolled by and then i hit the wall again, i had to sleep. looking for a half-decent and safe spot to get my head down for a 5 minute catnap, i pulled up next to an aqua blue lake surrounded by glistening white sand. other riders and travellers were also there. as i stopped, the dakar motorcade trundled on, it was as if i'd stepped off a conveyor belt. lid off, i lay on the ground and went to sleep.


i woke with a start and thought, right, push on. i stood up slowly, stretched and took stock of where i was and what i was doing. i felt really groggy, a combination of lack of sleep, general fatigue and the altitude. then a voice broke my stupor, a traveller asked if i was ok, i explained i was just getting a few mintues rest, he said "you've been there for half an hour!" guess i needed it and it was the only rest i had until i arrived at the bivouac.

the altiplano

i was ahead of the desert rose truck so dumped my bike and gear with rob, ned, tim and ted (!) of rally pan am and headed over to the mess tents for a gig bowl of pasta, drowned in olive oil and parmeasan, from the pasta bar; my daily staple on the days i got in on time! before working on my road book back with the bike and then going back to the mess tent later for a proper supper....if there was time you could eat and eat and eat.....sadly for me there wasn't!


rob was awesome; in my slightly delirious  state, he put up a tent for me, with a huge inflatable mattress and thick duffle sleeping bag.....so comfortable! i was in bed by 9pm and could revel in the fact i did not have to be until 7am the next day - although the first bike was away by 07:10, i was about an hour behind. but it was a fitful sleep, never quite sure when i was meant to be getting up. and what seemed like the middle of the night, i heard patsy, jago and the desert race crew arriving and working on bikes. Still, i was resting. my main concern though was my left knee, it had swollen right up since being hit by the car and my leg looked like a tree trunk from thigh to ankle! i could neither straighten it nor stand on my left leg. i was more than concerned.

with so much going on i had not realised my knee was not in good shape, but neither was my right wrist which i had sprained after my big off a couple of days ago. somehow, with the whole body aching and being beyond tired, these ailments were just niggles until you stopped to check......best to ignore. in fact, i remember going for a shower one evening and seeing a guy with a bruise that ran across his entire back all the way down to the back of his knees.....to think i thought i had problems!!

dakar stage 5: chilecito to fiambala

day 13 - 5th january 2012

liaison 151km

special 265km

total 416km

start time 06:00

back into the sand today and the heat, a mind blowing 52c!!

losing time and energy standing in the sun waiting to fuel up

having had a relatively straight forward morning - and i mean relative as i had been stuck in the sand more than once already - we were riding sandy river beds, then p and over the ridges in between, before cruising down a river bed again, until we were taken off into a small gully, which on the face of it looked pretty straight forward. at this time, we were still ahead of the cars, but the sand in the gully was completely chopped up. the gully was v-shaped, about 30ft wide, the top sides were about 15-20 ft high but the gully floor was only about 10ft wide. it was all sand. due to the constant changes in direction, you had to ride up the gully walls, sweep down and ride up the other side and so on. this was ok for the first 2km, but then it just seemed to get harder, and even hotter. just behind us was another rider, i never knew his name, but on the back of his camoglauged jacket was printed in white 'captain dakar' - a chilean army officer and i don't think i need tell you the alternative i came up with! he was riding right up to the top of the gully walls, riding along what we thought must have been a ridge, before descending back into the gully. then we heard helicopters,this usually meant riders were down. it seemed the captain dakar was actaully getting navigation tips from the pilots of the army heli as he climbed the gully wall and we did not see him again.

jago was running very low on water so suggested we climbed up to see what was going on to see whether he could get some water. there we could see 2 helis parked up about a km away, so we had a crack at getting the bikes up the gully wall. the ground was all sand with bush, but the surface had been bake hard, so initially the ground felt firm, but too much gas and you were up to your swinging arm in incrdibly soft sand, it was mighty frustrating to ride.on the top we rode quite easily for a short distance, before we had to cross the gully at the point we were meant to exit as per the road book and where the helis were. on arriving at the helis we saw one bike on fire, an australian rider who's husky bike engine had blown and was waiting for his flight out, a pilot, a few others and the boss etienne, (who would be on hand to help me again before too long!). he talked to us about the heat, that man riders had already pulled out through bikes overheating or exhaustion, so he gave us as much water and spare food as we could drink and eat, but all the time telling us to eat at the same time (this was a valuable tip in the coming days, as the method was like having an isotonic drink thereby enabling your body to absorb the water more quickly rather than just passing through the body and washing out what minerals and salts you had left). he also told us that the third leg of the day had been cancelled due to the rain, but we had to get moving before it got dark. it was already 3pm.

and on we went, away from the gully, but still riding plenty of sand. it was pretty hard to stay upright and it would prove to be the last straw for jago as he fell a few times and finally broke his clutch lever. 

i know there's a spare clutch lever in here???

moving over to the side of the track to fix the lever i waved down a passing dumper truck, containing a fallen race bike a few local supporters. i was not sure what i was going to ask for, but thought i would ask if they had access to any spare bike parts and or the possibility of a lift....somewhere? jago's spare lever was not for te 450exc so did not fit!

the rain clouds forming, although the heat was still intense

the options open to us were to tow him in the sand or try to file the lever so it would fit. what we did not know at this point was that the clutch had burned out and in doing so the hydrauic fluid was also knackered. next thing we knew the locals had jumped off the truck to bodily lift the bikes straight up onto the truck.

the bikes on the back of the truck

it had started to rain and the locals said the river bed would flood, so it was safer that we traveled in th truck with them to the next village, from where i could get to the main road and tow jago to the cp, but it was going to mean a long tow. so trundling along the track, back the way we had just come, we spoke with the locals who's been watching the riders coming through, the problems and now the weather.

a moment of respite....even a smile from jago!

a young girl ask me to marry her and introduced me to her father, a slight dilema as i did not want to offend the very people who were helping us!

"will you marry me?"

i telephoned rory to let him know what was going on and to relay to patsy etc. i knew this was a risk and although jago said that i should continue without him, i felt that we could finish the day together. then the truck stopped, it was stuck in the sand! reversing and then trying to go forward again did not work so the locals jumped out and started cutting the brush to lay over the sand tracks and got behind the truck and started to push. i jumped down to help while jago was filing.

the leatherman at work

this went on for hours and we seemed to just be going backwards as each time the driver reversed to get a run up, the truck just got stuck again. then we heard a bang and then the sound of escaping air, one of the branches used to cover the tracks had punctured one of the truck tyres! we were not going anywhere now. 

one of the passengers had been assisting the aso and told us an aso truck was coming over to help tow us out, so not to worry. on the contrary, jago and i had to make it very plane that the bikes had to come off the truck immediately or we would be out of the dakar for sure. within minutes the bikes were off and we looked busy working on them when the aso vw 4x4 turned up to inspect the truck. the locals were milling around, chatting and laughing and feeding us biscuits while we worked on the clutch lever. sadly after hours of messing around with the lever, it still did not work, we thought it must have been the clutch, but could not afford to spend anymore time on it. there was no option but to tow jago to bump start him and then he'd have to ride without stopping for as long as possible. my bike needed kick starting as the battery was flat, but this also meant my normal lights would not work, let alone my halogen. so with one of the tow rope wrapped around my left footpeg and the other end around jago's right footpeg we started the first bump start in the sand. jago was in the left rut and i was in the right, the rope tightened and of we went, building up speed to about 20-30kph jago put the bike into gear, relying on engine revs as no clutch. off he went into the darkness. pulling my clutch in i came to a stop, then with my right hand i coiled up the tow rope, now covered in sand and stuffed under my body armour. by now i had a little amber light to help me through the darkness, but after about 50m it all but died out, hmmm! head torch? just as i started to fumble for it in my tool bag which was around my waist, i noticed the aso 4x4 lights heading over, so i thought i would wait and use their headlights until my battery charged up enough to run my own lights. the driver had realised i had no lights so drive at a good speed to allow me to run comfortably along the sandy track.


about 40 minutes later i caught up with jago. the fact he had ridden this far without stopping was remarkable as the terrain was not easy now that we were riding up yet another river bed at night. by this time i had left the 4x4 behind now that my lights were working again, but was not certain that jago had gone off route or that i had made a navigation error. we rode together for a while longer until we came across a sweeper truck heading in the opposite direction and stopped to see whether we could scrounge spare parts for jago's ike. sadly that was in vain. we pushed on. now only about 1km from cp1 we thought we'd cracked it, but found ourselves off the roadbook and fighting our way through thick, thorny bush and no clear way ahead. with my draining lights and jago's lack of a clutch we thought we'd try walking to the cp and leave the bikes, then work out a better route back to the bikes to ride out on. leaving a flashing light on the bikes i walked out about 50m on the cap heading to the cp, then i'd stop and wait for jago to join me before continuing. but after about 200m we realised that we'd never find out bikes again, it was a moonless night, cloudy even, and the bush was so thick. towing jago's bike out of the bush we heading back to the river bed to try an alternative route.


we decided i would ride up river and try to find the cp. it was now 4am the following day, we'd been riding since 6am. climbing over some seriously large boulders i was back in the river bed, but the trials riding had only just begun! the rocks turned back into boulders and although i could see a street lamp not more than about 200m away, the route was impassable and there was a dubious climb to reach the road. i turned back knowing that jago would never get far without a clutch. there had to be another way. back with jago i collapsed onto the sand, lid off, drinking hard from my pack and panting, i suggested jago ride my bike and try the route to the left of where i went. i had seen some tracks there and it looked like the ran alongside the river rather through it. i watched him ride off into the distance, the light dimming the further away he moved. then he stopped, at almost the same spot i had turned back. hmmm. then from the other direction the whole river bed lit up as the two sweeper trucks returned. they'd made the same navigation error as we had and pulled up alongside to check what we were doing. obviously there was only myself at this point. the aso doctors were not impressed and wanted me to stop. i explained jago was looking for a route out and pointed to the stationary light in the distance. they waited, i waited, jago still had not moved. it's weird, but i never once considered something might have happened to him! then one of the sweeper crew set off to retrieve jago, while i chatted with the others. returning on jago's bike in a pair of shorts and trainers, the sweeper guy said jago was ok, just exhausted. we both were. then out of the dakrness jago arrived and i quickly explained the situation and that we both need to look as sharp as we possible could or they were going to get aso to stop us continuing. adamant that we had trained for this situation and that we were not about stop, they said ok you may continue, but if you stop once more then that would be it. although technically they could not stop us, it would mean we would be totally on our own and would have to contact patsy to explain where we were and then work out how to transport bikes back to mar del plata. that was beyond out thoughts.


positioned, with the tow rope in place, we were ready to get going. revving hard, my rear wheel just sank in the soft sand, right up to the swingarm. i looked back in despair, jago's bike had not budged. "that's it! bikes on the back of the truck". oh, ok, that's it? the dakar is over? not quite how i imagined it, guess we did ok? we'd certainly given it a pretty good shot, just bloody frustrating to be only 800m short of the cp. lid off i started to walk back towards jago's bike when one of the sweeper crew said "you are going to continue, no?" "er, yes of course!" and at that i put my lid back on and headed back towards my bike. i had been given an opportunity to conitnue. all tiredness, concern, doubts faded away. "i'm still in!" all i could think about was getting to the road, just a short ride away and riding between the 2 sweeper trucks we were on the road 10 minutes later. i was not short of light, but we had to stop a few times to get the 4x4 through some pretty deep, but empty river beds and i did not want to stall and risk not being able to kick the bike into life.

i had lost my goggles in the bush, so jago gave me his - how on earth could he see anything, they were orange tinted, scratched to buggary and dirty - but better than noubt, well only just! i was told to follow the first truck, with the second following behind. i was told it was about 130-150km to the bivouac and needed to ride at 100kph, seemed ok. but it was quite cold now, i'd been riding for 23 hours and the roads were winding up and down, it was hard, monotonous riding. and then the tiredness kicked in. yelling to keep awake, lifting my goggles to get air into my eyes, how long could i keep this up? 100km done, ok last 30-50km or at least that is what i thought, until i saw a sign a bit further down the road that said 100km!! talk about mind over matter, i felt so low, the goal posts had suddenly moved and i had little in reserve. i gritted my teeth for a few more km before i slowed down and waved the truck down. i just stopped. the driver of the truck behind came bounding over and asked what was up, i said i needed to stop, i needed to rest, but they should continue. i would sleep for a bit and then get going again. he said hang on a minute. then this other rider appeared, putting his jacket on and smiling, then the plan was explained; this guy would ride my bike to within 10- 20km of the bivouac, i would get my head down in the truck until then. simples. fucking great idea! i climbed up into the sweeper truck, slightly unnerving as i did not really want to be there, jago said something but it was just jibberish, he was still asleep i think, gato was there and a couple of others. i sat in my bucket seat, closed my eyes and was out for the count.

waking up, the dawn light was coming through the window, the truck had stopped. without hesitation the cab door flung open, the cold air rushing in. it was bracing, but i was clambering down the side of the truck ready to finish the stage at about 7am in the morning. topping up with more fuel, i rode into the bivouac to the bewildered faces of spectators already gathering for the morning start, other officials and competitors. dropping my bike at the admin tent was not a great way to install confidence in the officials who were deliberating about me continuing. but the official who was there had given me a great bit of advice the day before "have faith! you have faith!". signing the papers to say i'd missed a shit load of way points and check points, i was told i could go. thank fuck for that.

as i'd arrived john had turned up, not sure how he knew i was there, but as always he was there to greet me at the end of my stage. such a relief to see him, with or without a camera! he asked how was feeling and i said that i was not feeling brilliant and that i probably was not in the best frame of mind to make any decisions about the day ahead. i was considering stopping, but first i needed a dump, may be even a shower if time (they were always cold by the way!) and something to eat.

dakar stage 4: san juan to chilecito

day 12 - 4th january 2012

liaison 424km

special 326km

total 750km

start time 05:30

starting the liaison on time i rode a short distance before pulling over to wait for jago. he'd had problems with his bike and decided to go back to the support truck to get the issue sorted while we had the resources and the time. however, another 30 minutes was lost, i then made a mistake on the roadbook which lost us another 20 minutes, so now we really had to push on! thankfully the start of the liaison was delayed by 20 mins, so we were able to get some cool water on board and take a few minutes break.

my roadbook error was to prove only my first issue of the day. looking back on the things that happened to me today, it is a wonder i finished. however, as you tackle each incident, you realise that you jsut move on quickly; you are just grateful that you are still moving and in the race.

more river beds today, vast dry river beds with huge boulders and fesh fesh, lots of it : ))

the first incident, like all these things is preventable. we were riding hard and fast today, getting into the swing of things and feeling good. but against my better judgement i kept pushing on. we found ourselves overtaking rider after rider and flying across the fast tracks as if we were back in morocco. i distinctly remember hitting a few whoops and having a few "fuck me!" moments, where you realise you were a hares breath away from disaster. but still i pushed on. jago and i sort of tag teamed who took the lead and at this point jago moved to the front and pushed on. we'd also realised after the incident on day 2 in the dunes, remembered the importance of stopping and eating at certain times of the day, but today we ignored our routine as we were flowing. but this is the problem with this kind of racing, as yhou don't realise you are tired until you make a mistake. but i was starting to feel tired and felt we should stop for 'lunch' or at least back-off the pace. but the pace was set.....then bam!! i was flying through the air and all i could see was impending disaster and there was absolutely nothing i could do about it! i was going to hit the deck hard and only luck would determin my outcome. i hit the ground with an almight thwack! smashing my face into the side of  a bank of sand and rock. then silence. i knelt upright, checked all my limbs, stood up, dre breath and then started to take stock.

my bike was now on the ground but facing the opposite direction i had been traveling in. i could see the boulder i hit, where i took off and where i landed 5m away and the spit of land stopping my journey prematurely a further 3m on. expecting the worst, but with the help of some pasing riders, i picked the bike up and inspected the damage. the only real damage was the top of the fairing had all but snapped off and the nav tower we bent slightly. amazing! poor jago had to come back and find me. i took my lid off to inspect the damage there and to my face as i had a little blood dripping. somehow i'd managed to bruise my forehead and graze my nose, but that was all.....well, i think i was a little dazed and confused too! this was apparent when i tried to cut a few zip ties to fix my faring and managed to slice my knuckles with my leatherman instead.....blood went everywhere, it was rediculous, such an idiot - the scab is only just healing now....that's 2 months ago!

the last leg of the day was an incredibly frustrating stretch of fesh fesh, a track bordered by thick bush. spending half our time winding ourselves through the bush trying to stay out of the fesh fesh and remain out of the line of fire from the cars and trucks that were charging through, we still found ourselves in harms way. at one point jago was ahead of me when he stopped, i could do nothing but stop behind him, but when he then moved on he left me a thick cloud of fesh fesh and this bloody stuff takes ages to disperse. i was a sitting duck should a car come along and that is exactly what happened. before i new it a car had flown into the cloud and hit the back of my left leg, pushing me off to my right as i elbowed the driver's window; i don't think he even noticed or if he did he was probably so shocked that he wanted to get the hell out of there. apart from being a bit fucked off, i was ok but realised i had to get of the track. the dust had not settled so i could not atttempt to go forward, so jumped off the bike, rather i climbed off it carefully in the soft fesh fesh and dragged the bike into the bush. no sooner had i moved off the track when a truck hurtled through, honking his horn and had i still been on the track.....i dread to think.

as i navigated through the bush it was chaos, cars and bikes were strewn every which way, with the sentinal warning alarms going off all of the time, engines roaring as drivers tried to climb out of the deep fesh fesh, spinning wheels sending thick clouds of dust into the air, it was like a war zone!

then it was over, i had made it back onto the hard stuff and now away from the noise and dust, jago and i regrouped before pressing on.

then we were in sight of the finish, just 200m away, but first there was a short river crossing, then up a short sandy track. seemed pretty stright forward, so i jumped into the river, rode a few feet until i was suddenly in 3 feet of water and hit a wall of rock which i could not see and tumbled into the water, fuck!! bike went completely under....bollocks!! i was drenched. i stood up and pumped the kick start to check if there was any water in the engine....seemed ok, so turned the engine over, nothing. so thought fuck it, i'll push! the crowds that had gathered around the finish thought it was hillarious that i'd fallen in, but roared with cheers of support as i started to push. jago had parked up ahead and come back to help. shouting at the supports for some real support, a few lads came down and pushed.

i remember getting really cross with a supporter who kept yelling at me that a truck was coming...i thought, well there is plenty of room for both of us and that this close to the line, the truck is not going to hit me, but he insisted on yelling at me....i thought where the fuck am i going to go, fucking idiot, so i told him to shut the fuck up! not very eloquent, but i was pumped up having been pushing the bike, being totally drenched and i guess a little tired. then i was at the line.

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Englishman Tobias Younger was amongst the last 20 bikers to reach the finishing line of the 4th special, soaked to the skin after having fallen for the umpteenth time, in the last stream of the day, scarcely 50 metres from the last time check-point! He was less concerned about drying himself, but more worried about emptying his boots full of water, sitting down and having something to eat. “I've been riding for 14 hours, including 5 hours to get through the last 30 kilometres in the fesh-fesh. Mind you, it seems that it's par for the course for an amateur rider like myself. It's the first time I've taken part, and I'm starting to understand exactly what the Dakar is about! Apparently, on each special stage, the major difficulties are grouped together at the end, when you're already really tired... You have to admit that, for an amateur, you have to be a bit of a masochist to attempt this rally”.

.m

there was a wonderful lady who was part of the aso who wold check in each competitor, she always greeted me with a beeming smile and it became a little joke at the end of each day. i really don' think she expect to see me at the end of each day, so i liked to surprise her! the organisers gave jago and i a load of food and water before i attempted to clear the carb as it was bound to be the reason the bike wold not start. but before getting me tools out, i gave the starter one more try, and would you believe it, the bike roared into life, "you beauty!!". the sun had set and we still had a 140km liaison to get through.

stopping at a garage to fuel up, we took advantage of the food and coke cola on sale - a cold coke at the end of each day was such a wonderful prize. totally dark now we pushed on. but then we had to contend a gravel track as we climbed over a mountain pass for about 30km, very slow going as we got stuck behind normal road traffic. time dragged on and on, but then we were on the road again so we cracked on. but, just 4km short of the finish my engine made a terrible high piched whizzing sound before if just stopped and i just glided to a standstill on the side of the road. hmmm, what the hell happened there? climbing off the bike some locals pulled up and offered to tow me, but jago, again, came to the rescue and towed me in.

relaxing at a check point for lunch

when we finally arrived i immediately decribed what had happened - patsy and martin wanted to get cracking on the bikes as soon as we came in each night. we dispensed with the pleasantries, apart from a quick hello and well done. martin said "mate look at your left boot!" i looked down, and to my horror my boot was black, covered in oil, engine oil!! "fucking hell, my engine must have seized, but how?" martin dived onto the floor and stuck his finger in the hole of my crankcase! when the hell did that happen? then i relived a moment earlier that day, yes another 'moment' of my rather uneventful day, i remember being on the dry river bed when i tried to go round a rather large rock that had been thrown into the rut i was in by a passing car and my sump guard hit it. the bike was almost pushed backwards by the force of the impact. somehow i had stayed on the pegs and carried on, but what i had failed to notice was the sump guard had punctured my crankcase.

but what amazed me most was the fact i had had enough oil in the engine for the remaining half of the day and inspite of all the falls etc it had kept me going to within 4km of the finish. truly remarkable and fucking lucky! but the reality of the situation was that the engine had to be replaced that night and it was late. sorry pats and mart. but being the pros that they are, they had a new engine inplace within 2 hours. that's fucking amazing!

sorry for all the expletives, but those were my words of choice on the dakar and it was that kind of language i used all of the time.

dakar stage 3: san rafael to san juan

day 11 - 3rd january 2012

liaison 291km

special 270km

total 561km

start time 06:00

jago and i had ridden two desert rallies together, the maroc october 2010 and the tunis in may 11. both 6 day events in the deserts of north africa, so we were accustomed to each others perculiarities, and on the dakar it was great being able to share the good as well as the not so good moments, helping each other after a fall, checking the navigation, even taking a photo, but it also created challenges; mainly about riding at your own pace. after tunis, jago and i did not ride together really until a week in morocco in november. we trained on our own in terms of cardio and gym work. we both lead very busy lives and had our own little projects; jago's truck and south american tour and my breeding and rearing of 9 rhodesian ridgeback puppies, in between managing a fulltime job. so, even though patsy and zippy had encouraged us to talk about how we wanted to ride together, we did not, relying on our previous rally experiences. and became apparent - well it is easy to write with hindsight - that we were approaching the riding differently.

i had prepared for 12-16 hour days based on the distances and times acheived on previous desert rallies - incidentally mark coma and cyril despres took part in the maroc. however, jago and i had ridden hard and fast in those events and between us acheived a first place and a number of second and third places, so we were on the pace on our lightweight 400exc's. my approach therefore on the heavier, fuel and tool laden 450exc rally bike was to ride at between 50-80% of my capacity, i needed to finish, that was all.

the ride today was quite technical as we climbed a river bed for what seemed like hours. we were gaining some significant altitude too, up to around 3500m. the higher we climbed the narrower the river valley became. criss crossing the river all the way to the top was quite exciting, but demanding. we all appreciated the cooler climate too, the altitude and steep valleys kept the sun off or backs at times. this particular route was for bikes only, trucks and cars were diverted at a particular point in the road book. this was great as it meant no cars or trucks were going to try and race past, for a while at least. but the river valley was only the begining as soon after, we had caught up with about a dozen or so bikes who had been unable to connect the roadbook to the terrain. we also found the disconnect, but since the others had all tried the alternatives, we took the only option available which led to one hell of a steep climb, in first all the way to the top, it was a struggle to keep the momentum. but this was to be the first of some very impressive mountain tops, the final climb was incredible, it was like climbing up the pig track to the top of snowdon or the main route up ben nevis, but the views were even more impressive

i was alone at this point having lost jago in one of the valleys in the gaggle of riders. i had gone back at one point but could not find him and then thought he'd gone on ahead. so i was relieved when he turned up about 45 mins later. turned out the fairing on his bike had come off - his bike was struggling a little after the big fall the previous day and there would be a few stoppages to strap parts of his bike together as a result.

patsy and martin working on our bikes 

jago, extremely happy to be here ; )

the bivouac was located on the edge of a small town positioned in this vast canyon. having had cooler temperatures during the day it was a struggle when the place we were resting in was a cool 48c! the canyon behaved like an oven, absorbing the suns rays during the day and radiating them out during the night. it was so hot that i slept outside on top of my sleeping bag, having to roll over just to avoid sticking the material. together with a very strong wind and the odd spot of rain, combined with the din of the mechanics working, i did not sleep awfully well. in fact, it was almost a relief to get up the following morning!

dakar stage 2: santa rosa de la pampa to san rafael

day 10 - 2nd january 2012

liaison 487km

special 295km

total 782km

start time 05:45

start time 05:00

as i may have mentioned in previous blog entries, jago loves to race and seeing the riders up ahead was a red rag to a bull (sorry mate!!) and off he went. i could see him slowly lining himself up for an overtake, but by now there were 3 or 4 riders grouped together, but then the next thing i saw was a cloud of dust. i was probably about 75m behind and by the time i reached the fesh fesh cloud i could see 2 riders on the deck and you guessed it, one of them was jago....shit! as the cloud dispersed it revealed the carnage, and jago kneeling, unmoving....i pulled off to the side and jumped off the bike to see how he was, pick up the bits of plastic and metal scattered across the track and to pick up the bike. essentially a rider had gone down in the fesh fesh and jago was too close to avoid colliding with his bike which cartwheeled him down the track. the front fairing was pretty smashed up and the nav bar, roadbook, ico, etc was all bent back towards the handlebars.

only cosmetic damage!

by the time we got going we had lost the 30 minutes of spare time and now had to race to avoid missing the start to the special. jago had no way to navigate so he followed, but when we arrived at the start, there was a refuelling point and massive queue.....we were going to miss this start. i went on ahead to reduce my penalty time and even though i explained the circumstances there was no assistance and i went through the start and pulled over 100m further down the track and waited. unbeknown to me, the officials would not let jago start until his gps etc was working adequately, which they repaired as best they could. 20 minutes later jago was through.

reading the roadbook at this angle is a little tricky!

now we were at the back, we started to find ourselves with the dilema of assisting other riders and getting going. the first rider we assisted had fallen on a really gnarly track, steep downhill section with big rocks meant trial riding. i found a suitable place to stop - the cars would be coming through soon and i could not leave the bike in the middle of the track - walked back up the hill to assist the french rider who had fallen and could not move his bike. once the bike had been picked up and moved out of the way, the rider kept sticking his thumb up at me. to begin with i thought he was thanking me, until i realsied his thumb looked a little odd.....he'd dislocated the top thumb joint......not having re-located a thumb or finger or any limb before - my own does not count as it relocated itself! - i shouted back at jago and asked whether he had....shaking his head i looked back th frenchman and took this thumb, smiled and pulled. he was either a brave man or in so much pain he did not care, but not only to let me attempt to help him but when i pulled the thumb i was in fact pulling on the lower bone nearest the wrist, rather than the end....i tried again....this time i felt the bone slide forward and then pop back into the socket! the sensation was horrible and i could feel the discomfort as well as the relief... in fact i seemed more releived than the rider! in all seriousness, was massively relieved and gave me a huge grin. i was pleased to be on our way, it was getting very hot now and we were losing more time.

not having travelled more than 400m another rider was off his bike, working on his engine with tools and parts laid out around him. we popped over and after a convoluted conversation in half-french jago gave him a stick of liquid metal. we moved off again, we were really losing time now and it was 45c and the heat was suffocating, almost burning your throat as you sucked the air in. i don't know if i've mentioned this before, so forgive me if i'm repeating myself, but another thing about the heat is what it does to your water. obviously the water warms up, which on it's own is not too bad, but what also happens is he taste takes on the plastic of the water bag and together with the what is fast becoming hot water, tastes absolutely foul and makes it very hard to take on water. this is where the nuun electrolyte tabs are so good - mine were stolen - not only to they replenish the salts and minerals, they improve the taste, even when warm, enough to stomach. fortuntely you could refill with cool fresh water at each check point, where under an awning a few folding chairs and crates of bottled water allow a moment of respite from the sun.

later that day i was astonished when i passed what appeared to be a dead cow laying on the edge of the track, glancing around i then noticed smoke rising from behind a bush, then a flash of light as the sun reflected off a survival blanket being shaken out and then in the distance i saw a helicopter. evidently a rider had hit a cow, killed it and destroyed his bike - it may have been a quad? - and was being airlifted out. another rider out of the dakar. this may not seem very sporting or compassionate, but there was almost a sense of relief when i saw another rider out of the race, as it meant i was still in it and i was no longer #187 out of 188 bikes that left mar del plata. but it was also a reminder to ride carefully, it was very much tortoise and the hare, nursing my bike and myself through the days.

as the day wore on, he km passed by and we were in good spirits, but as was the pattern with the dakar, they left the hard parts until the end. we'd been riding sandy tracks for a while now and that was fine, but they sarted to ripple so that you could not get a comfortable ryhthm. now there is probably a better way of riding them; harder and faster floating the front wheel over the whoops, but i could not keep that going for more than say 10-20m and certainly not the distances we were covering. it was hot and tiring work and from feling great one minute, i was starting to feel pretty shit. that's when we climbed the sand tracks to the first wave of dunes. the pistes were ripped if from the bikes, cars and trucks that had already passed making the obvious route impassable. i really could not get my act together on the dunes, i was having to tackle one at a time. it was exhausting work, sweat was pouring off me and i was starting to feel really bad. jago was stuck half way up a dune at this point so i suggested we took a break - we hadn't sorted out our daily routince yet and had not stopped to eat for a long time and the exhaustion and nausea were symptoms of dehydration.

sitting down in front of the bike, trying to keep out of the afternoon sun, i started to wretch. i knew this was a really bad sign and suddenly fear set in, this could be the dakar over with! jago had a rehydration pack and we quickly got as much of that inside of me before things got out of hand. i lay on my side feeling rough, just waiting for the nausea to pass and start eating again to get myh energy levels up. a few spectators on quads turned up to see how we were; it just made me feel worse that these guys were riding round for fun and here we were busting our guts to  be here.

once back on the bikes the next few km of dunes were ok, but then we descended into this hideous section of torn up tracks in the dunes, broken up with camel grass and thick brush. bikes and cars strewn across the landscape. riders taking shelter under the thicker brush, exhausted by the sun and the terrain. not too far up ahead we came across mariano. a helicopter was just taking off from his position which was a concern. turned out he'd fallen as he'd descended one of the many almost sheer drops in this dune section and had just managed to crawl out of the way as a truck followed him down and drove right over his bike, destroying it in the process. i never saw the extent of the damage, but it was enough to put mariano out of he race on day 2! we had to push on, but he hd been supplied with drinks and food and he'd be picked up soon enough.

great camera, can capture exactly what your eyes can see

the blurry image is a result of dehydration and exhaustion

i was in contstant turmoil, the heat was oppressive, the terrain unforgiving, the days were long, it was only day 2 and i was thinking how the hell am i going to continue for another 12 days, it can't be possible???? but then i would say to myself "take it one day at a time, one day, don't think about the whole race". ultimately i might not see all 15 days of the dakar and therefore there was no point worrying about the whole event, just what was in front of me, the next turning in the roadbook, the next check-point, the end of the special, the liaison. obviously there is a lot going on and the mind and body have had to adapt to a completely new way of life. and as the days wore on, i became more accustomed and focussed on the little things ensuring i did everything i needed to in the shortest amount of time. i had a clear routine in the morning and evening, but it was bloody hard to keep up at times, but nothing else mattered. however, this constant mind battle continued everyday of the dakar.

dakar stage 1: mar del plata to santa rosa de la pampa 820km

day 9 - 1st january 2012

liaison 763km

special 57km

total 820km

start time 05:45

another beautiful and warm morning. we had a 7am start time, but nothing to do other than freshen up, eat, change and climb into the support truck. the mood was pretty relaxed on the whole, perhaps a little too relaxed as were soon racing to parc ferme to avoid missing our start time.

if i had any doubts about what i was doing, they were soon blown away when two beautiful argentine girls, still celebrating the new year, gave me a smacker on each cheek - you'll see this in the video when i get it onto youtube!

unfortunately when we arrived at the entrance to parc ferme we had to walk in our race gear for about 800m and still had to fit roadbooks.

jago had problems starting his bike and then it kept konking out, so by the time we crossed the start line we'd already incurred our first of many penalties! we pulled over a 100m later to fit the roadbooks and patsy was passing by so came over to look at jago's bike.

jago sorting out his bike with martin, 100m from the start

then we were off. although early in the morning it was warming up and so i was keen to get moving. but this proved difficult with the huge numbers of supporters on the roadside and on the road; just under a million people lined the streets!!

and so the dakar began. an 820km stage to santa rosa de la pampa, with an approximately 50km special some 100km in (can't remember exactly).

it was incredible seeing all the roads lined with supporters, all waving, cheering, smiling and all taking photos! we'd been warned that you soon tired of waving and it is true; you feel guilty as you know they've been building up to this one moment and travelled miles to get there. we tried to oblige as often as we could : )

but then it was my turn to pull over. my oil cooler was losing oil and it was covering everything, including my goggles! got the 19mm spanner out and tightened the nut as much as possible before moving on.

no sooner had we arrived at the start of the special we were hurried to the start line and were off. this was the first time i had ridden the rally bike in anger and it was the first time i'd ridden a bike since the  convoy in london 6 weeks before! i was fully laden with water, tools, new kit, nav equipment, fuel and so you could say i was not feeling totally at one with the bike.

it was an incredible setting though, situated only meters from the atlantic ocean, on the hard rock cliff the flowed easily for the first few km before hitting the first south american sand. jago's bike had stopped once again, so i pulled over to assist. i can't remember exactly it was that we did, but we got it going and received a huge cheer from the crowds.

it was a very short special, but we had to takle some pretty steep and pretty large dunes considering this was a beach and day 1 of the dakar. but soon enough we were racing over sandy tracks between the pampus grass and then it was over. only 600km or so to go!

patsy and co were pulled up on the side of the road shortly after the special, so they had another look at my oil cooler which still seemed to be leaking. there was a real air of excitement and relief from all the riders. it was exciting to be riding along on the dakar route, waving at the crowds, but it was a relief to have started and finished the first special safely.


unknown to a lot of us was the death of the argentine rider jorge boero (#175). he was only a few km short of the special finish line when he came off and the impact (possible on the handlebars) caused a cardiac arrest. medical help was at the scene within 5 minutes but whilst being airlifted to hospital, he died.


i had met him for the first time only a few days before at the ool party, he wa a good friend of mariano and gato's; it must have been very hard on them. 21 riders have died since he dakar's inception in 1979, another 17 competitors and spectators have also lost their lives taking part in this rally....the dakar takes no prisoners. 

one of our many fuel stops!

temperatures rose to about 42c, the roads were very straight, the seat was hard and journey was long. the monotony only broken by the emergence of spectators, mainly sheltering in the shade of the trees that lined portions of the roadsides; they must have travelled miles and left so early to get here ahead of us!

riding through santa rosa - photo c/o maximiliano buss

we arrived ahead of the support crew, but it was a relief to be at our first bivouac, see the layout, have our first taste of the food, shower and toilet facilities, briefing - it was the only one i made it to!! sorry chris, no offence ; )