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.

• 
  
• 

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.