dakar stage 12: arequipa to nasca

day 21 - 13th january 2012

liaison 259km

special 245km

total 504km
start time 05:00

even with ear plugs i woke up to a spanish voice, then a french one, all the while i could hear "click, click, click, pause, click, click, pause, click, click, click, click" that's when i realised it must be mark coma and cyril despres getting ready and a photographer was capturing it all. i had inadvertently parked myself right outside their area of the tent! that was not a problem, but then it hit me, last night while removing my armour and undoing all the velcro straps, i heard a "grumph!" and a person in a sleeping bag popped their head around the corner of the tent, obviously i had disturbed them and they were not happy about it. at the time, i thought big deal, you've been sleeping for hours, in a sleeping bag, in a tent, while i was about to get about 2 hours sleep, lying in my bike gear on the floor (again!) outside the tent with nothing but a knitted poncho for warmth. oops!

i lay for as long as i could, trying to rest until the last moment as i knew it was going to another long day, starting with a 4-5 hour liaison. i finally opened my eyes to find that washbag had been opened and mark coma had used my toothbrush! grabbed some breakfast, found a vacant loo, got my kit together and then found my roadbook. no time to actually review it, or to make the daily/ nightly amendments, i'd have to wing this one. so tired. coffee, followed by another coffee! i crossed the start line and headed up the street about 100m and pulled over to fit my roadbook. immediately surrounded by locals who insisted on trying to help and have their picture taken. 45 mins later i finally left!

the liaison was hard riding following the pacific coastline, winding up, down and around, constantly overtaking, permanently on the wrong side of the road on hairpin bends, it was exciting riding and kept my mind active..... a godsend, i'd have surely fallen asleep otherwise! pulled into a garage to buy some supplies and found some redbull; i drank 2 cans before replacing my airfilter, that was the full extent of the 'daily' service i was to carry out on this marathon stage! then i was off again. as i approached the special i caught sight of an erg that made erg chebbi look like a dunette, "i fucking hope we're not climbing that today!"

i arrived at the start of the special with only enough time to fuel up before heading towards the beach. flying along the damp sand for about 30km trying not to kill the thousands of crabs scuttling for their precious little lives. today was all sand and included some incredible beach sections and monumentous vertical climbs. my road book was saying i should be turning right, but all the tracks continued along the beach. i was so tired, i was in a delerious state of mind, neither asleep nor awake, but in some sort of stupor. yesterday i had ridden for 22 hours, i had 2 hours sleep outside on the floor, had then ridden hard for 4 hours to make it to the start line with 10 minutes spare to fuel up. the tracks could have been anyones, but it seemed the right way to go, i thought what will be will be.....this went on for 20-30km, i really thought i was in completely the wrong place, my roadbook made no sense - well it wouldn't as i later found out that this was one of the main alterations of the route which i had missed due to my late arrival to the bivouac.

i remember another competitor coming past, riding ahead for a while and then circling back, obviously unsure of the route. i was now back on the roadbook and happy with my position and carried on. at one point i passed below a heli perched high up on a rock formation, like an eagle waiting to dive for it's prey. then a few hours in i found a very obvious landmark. i stopped for some food and a break. i'd been riding for 7 hours already.

in peru the sand mountains literally fall into the pacific, leaving you with no option but to climb them to get out. hitting the slope off the flat beach at about 80kph, i started the climb straight up. it must have been 400m in height over a distance of about 800m, dropping from 5th to 4th to 3rd to 2nd, with only just enough gas to get me to the top. eric was alongside and we rode to the top in tandem. it was good to have some company again, though we rode in our own space and time, we were always within view of one another.

later the  route took you round the foot of  a mountain, with the pacific only 100m or so on the left hand side. lined by spectators the steep camber pulled you down towards the sea, but the following cars and trucks flew past me on all sides leaving me with little option but to stop and once they'd passed i had to double back before attempting to climb it again. i felt like i was in some computer game like motorstorm, i was in the middle of nowhere, but suddenly surrounded by spectators standing next to their 4x4s, drinking, bbqs, waving wildly and then accompanied by a dozen cars and trucks, roaring past, a sereal moment.

then i reached another beach climb. it took me 3 attempts to reach the top of first section and another 3 attempts for the second section. i took to the slope with a 400m run up, flat out, bouncing through the air  but the power just draining away in the soft sand before finally stopping 50m from where it levelled off enough to get going again. turning round i headed back down to one side to avoid being caught up in oncoming traffic. i saw another route. taking a long run up i headed in the alternative direction. again flying through the air over the whoops and bumps as i climbed, but alas, the bike and rider could not cope. back down again! the third attempt incorporated the climb from the first run and then a quick change in direction, a kind of zig-zag, as the bike began to slow, enough to enable to reach the top of the first section. i made it!

the 2nd section was equally difficult, so steep that i was in 1st gear, rear wheel spinning wildly, the front wheel wanting to flip me over backwards! i wasn't going to make it and somehow i had to turn before stopping as i would slide to the bottom if i lost control. i never thought to hell with this, i was actually relishing the challenge, but i was in some sort of auto-pilot, just knowing i had to keep going until i made it to the top.

the sand dunes were epic, right from the get go. the sand ripped up from all the traffic that had already passed through didn't help. i found it incredibly hard to navigate through these dunes as the sand did not flow in any kind of pattern, nothing like i had ridden in north africa. plus the sand all looked exactly the same, but when you road or walked on it, one minute i as hard, the next it was incredibly soft. it was infuriating, frustrating, physically draining. i wasn't the only one struggling! around me cars and trucks mainly, were strewn across the horizon, all trying to find their way through. you were climbing small dunes, on the back of one large 'wave' and when you reached the crest, you had long steep decent to the bottom, where you started the climb on the back of yet another collossal wave of sand. from the crest you would try to plan your route and as soon as you were moving you kept the on the gas, even if you were going the wrong way you could not risk stopping until you were as high as you could get. at least, that was my approach.

the day wore on and i was making slow progress across the dunes. one minute feeling the elation of conquering another dune set only to be followed by a feeling despair when i realised i now had to loop round and do the whole thing again in the opposite direction. and when i fell into yet another deep hole, i climbed off the bike and sat down in a slump, physically and mentally exhausted.....i felt my body start to tremble, emotions  overwhelming me, the best part of 4 years to get me to this point, 12 days of the dakar that had pushed to my limits and beyond and now i just sat, head bowed i felt tears start to well-up......at 1540hrs i took out my mobile and sent a text to patsy "i am really struggling in the dunes, last 40km to go." choked up i drank and ate some fruit bars and thought to myself that i had achieved so much more than i had ever expected to, i was on stage 12 of the dakar.....my body was intact and my bike was still running.....i was not going to quit! i did not check my phone for a reply.

i took a deep breath, stood up, started the bike and with engine roaring i walked the bike out of the hole. now on top the dune i selected a route and within minutes i was flying! the wind blowing away any doubts about finishing the day, i'll crack this! before i knew it i was out of the dunes.

but the stage was far from over, with now kms of tough camel grass up and down over high ridges. falling over at one point and trying to drag the bike round, a truck pulled up behind and started honking his horn, the driver gesticulating to get me out of the way....my response was not gentlemanly!

The final decent to nasca was a fast gravel track, along a dried river bed. like a slalom course i flew along, drifting through the corners, urged on by the developing crowds and finish line a few km away.....i had cracked it! i'd fucking cracked it! for me, i had completed the dakar......whatever came next, i did not care.

i rode into our little bivoauc in daylight i might add...... and gave patsy a big hug, lump in my throat, thanking her and someone up above for getting me home...... patsy gave me a beer! i sat down in a folding chair, babbling away about the ups and downs of the past 2 days, enjoying my first taste of alcohol since the dakar had started and boy was it good!

patsy, one woman, but so many roles to so many different people...... wife (of clive i might add!!), mother, enduro champion, dakar supremo, mechanic, friend, boss, mentor.....thank you pats

you can listen to an interview with neil 'bluebull2007' Rally Radio Interview summary below

Sat, 14 January 2012

2012 Dakar 20 -- Toby Younger, Ironman of the year?

(Photo Credit: Eurosport)

Neil (Bluebull2007) catches up with Toby Younger at the bivouac in Nasca, Peru, after stage 12. While for many this year "Marathon Stage" is just a fancy way of saying "Motorcycle-only campout", for Toby it's been a true "Marathon Rally", in every sense of the phrase. Made famous to the general audience by his overnight in the dunes prior to the rest day, Toby's managed more midnight km's than any other moto in the race.  And yet in every photo, there's that indomitable smile, shining through.  Thanks for talking with us, Toby, and keep those wheels rolling for another two days!

Direct download: 12D20.mp3
Category:12Dakar -- posted at: 2:49 AM

dakar stage 11: arica to arequipa

day 20 - 12th january 2012

liaison 171km

special 534km

total 705km
start time 04:00

bare in mind that these start times are for the first bike, namely coma or despres, i normally left about an hour later. however, it also meant that their support teams were up preparing the bikes an hour before that, so at about 03:00 you'd jump to the sound of a firing engine! at the beginning of the dakar the noise was incredible, you had nearly twice as many vehicles and everyone is working out their routine so there is a lack of efficiency. but by now, things had quietened considerably.....everyone was tired.

today was a special day, it was the first day the dakar had ever taken part in peru it was also quite unique as it was going to be what the aso called, a marathon day, whereby the riders would not return to the main bivouac, but one just for the riders. this also meant that there would be no support crew to repair and prep the bikes overnight; it was going to be down to the riders themselves to sort it out. apparently this was last tried in africa in 2007. however, having already spent an unplanned night in the dunes, i was pretty non plussed. today was going to be more than a marathon!!

a deep river crossing saw the end of the road for a few riders. a peruvian rider, number 105 i'd met on stage 4 when i'd fallen in the river at the end of the stage. it was at this crossing that i tried to help him get his bike running having fallen attempting to ride across. i've watched a lot of the footage and even cyril despres got off his bike to cross this river. having had his bike up-ended, spark plug out and pumping the engine, float bowl cleaned, the bike was having none of it. after about 20 mins i had to say farewell. this was his 3rd attempt and this was the first day the dakar had ever been in peru.

energy levels were important to face the major challenges of the day. and later that day i was confronted by a 100m drop into what can only be described as hell! the obvious route was the track that meandered all the way to the  bottom, but in fesh fesh i was simply paddling, but with the cars now on the way, i would be a sitting duck. i took the straight line approach - there were a few tracks to suggest this was a realistic option, well there were no bikes upside down to suggest otherwise!

surfing fesh fesh? well i couldn't! consistency of dry powdery water, i could not get the speed up for fear of hitting a rock beneath the surface. avoiding the track at the bottom i found myself moving in the wrong direction, with the bike really struggling to cope with the soft soft fesh fesh. the bike would shoot forward anytime the surface hardened, but it would then almost stop the moment it hit the soft stuff again. i tried to head back towards the track, but found myself being led into a gully, a combination of the sand and the topology. and funily enough i became well and truly stuck. with no way to stand the bike upright to allow me to kick-start - yes the starter was still not working - and the intense heat, i was really thinking my time was nearly up. i was so hot, so tired and just could not see an end to the madness. but then out of the fesh fesh cloud i saw a familiar bike and rider paddling along the track with his buddy walking alongisde.

i yelled out for help, concerned they would get stuck they asked what help was required, i just needed someone to hold the bike upright. i kept my lid on most of the time, even when stopped as it kept the heat off my face - the klim lid is well vented - plus i could not risk having to pick it up if i giot the bike started, it was hard enough to keep upright when sitting still! 1,2,3,4,5 kicks and she started, "you beauty!" and pushing her up the gully and while gunning the engine, we made it to the track, "thank fuck for that!" getting moving now was my focus, it was too darn hot to sit around here all day!

a few hundred metres later i was on a pretty good track, so progress was good. and then out of nowhere a group of hardy local supporters, with their pick up and gazebo, were waving the riders over for food and water. this time i obliged their very kind hospitality, i was low on water and wanted to empty my boots of sand!!! due to the extra sizes i had the equivalent of two buckets of sand in my boots! they guys offered me food, water, spare socks, you name it, they had it and wanted to share it.....such a generous people.

the clip below shows was what we had to contend with. watching you will see the 'walking' rider who held my bike so that i could kick start her. his name was eric hamel and i was to see him again later in the day....

the day was split into 2 stages with a long road section in the middle of the special. i was very tired by this stage. the road was hot and the air was dry. stopping for fuel, i ate a fruit bar and closed my eyes for 5-10mins before getting back into the saddle.

the next part of the special was fast and free flowing for about 20-30km.....

in the roadbook you have '!' which is normally a small bump, which the bikes barely notice, but for a car travelling at 140kph it could cause a stir. '!!' would signify a more serious bump or obstacle and '!!!' would mean real danger. but on this day there was a '!!!!' and having made it through countless triples, i was concerned about what the quad exclamation mark meant. and i should have been! i'd been scared by a number of obstacles, the initial butterflies in the stomach before a touch climb or descent, but this time is was serious  shit your pants time! but i had committed myself and so for me there was no turning back.

what i was confronted by was a 200m descent at an angle of about 60 degrees. the route down was in a fesh fesh rut that i now could not escape, i was committed. ideally i would have ridden down the slightly firmer ground to the left or right of the completely trashed track created by the trucks and cars that had already entered what as to become a hell hole!

looking up to the top you can make out the
 trucks coming down and the people at the top

i'd only ridden about 20m when my front wheel dug in. the slope was so steep that my rear wheel only lifted about 2 feet and i was over the bars! yes, that's how blinking steep it was. i rolled for a bit before having to scramble back using my hands for purchase. at which point i had to push the rear of the bike back into the rut, as the bike was effectively on it's nose. climbing on was hillarious! a rock was wedged against the front wheel as i tried to move the bike forward, eventually i was rolling down the hill again, sliding, braking, engine running, trying to keep my balance.......i was over again! back on my hands and feet, i could see that the mid part of this slope was even steeper, so i decided to walk and slide with the bike.....i did not want to break the bike anymore than i had. didn't care about anything else.

whilst i had been playing in the sand, a heli had landed on the gully floor and out stepped a familiar face, my friend etienne! he marched over with his entourage, "ca va!" i nodded, shouting over to him that this was the maddest thing i had ever done! he laughed and asked, well stated "you want a redbull?!" i nodded....he snapped his fingers and one of his merry men pulled out an ice cold redbull! these were the only wings that were going to take me out of here! the bike would not turn over and i could see oil leaking out of the front and rear of the exhaust and realised i had oil in the cylinder. zippy had only shown me how to use the decompression lever a few weeks before - i'd never needed one before! but my main concern was the lack of oil. bollocks! i must have lost a load falling??

by now two other riders joined me, eric and his buddy. came over and told us "you need to get out of this fucking hell hole before the sun goes down!" the sun was still shining brightly, but down in this deep gully, we'd lose the sun a lot earlier than out on top. i looked at etienne and said, "i would go, but i have no oil in my engine!" -  i did, but sure enough for the distances ahead of me. the aso marshalls looked at me blankly thinking it was game over, i thought it might have been as the engine still would not turn over and i oil seemingly leaking from every place. i said to myself "surely this can't be the way the dakar is to end? bollocks!"

"no oil?! you need some oil?" and with that etienne clicked his fingers and again one of his marshalls came over and this time produced a plastic container of turbo diesel engine oil! without stopping to ask again, i took the container and immediately went over to the bike, took the seat off, then the right hand tank, but then etienne's heli was about to go airbourne, so i took refuge behind the aso truck to avoid the enormous cloud of dust generated by the downwash. within a few minutes the engine was oiled up, tank and seat were back on and after a few kicks, the engine roared into life once again.

biked oiled up and ready for the onslaught

but fuck me, this next 40km was unreal, it was carnage, it was downright soul destroying!! this gully, barely wider than a truck in places was covered in more of the softest fesh fucking fesh, aaarrrrgggghhhh! completely ripped up by the cars and trucks, deep ruts from the 2 foot wide tyres. paddling all the time when in the ruts, then clambering over the huge berms onto the 20m of relatively untouched sand, trialling over the boulders, then crossing the ruts at right angles to the other side of the gully, for more of the untouched sand but more boulders. every now and then, riding up the side of a low ridge between the bends in the gully. no sooner had you got going another car or truck would activate the sentinel, and you looked alarmingly around to find a safe escape route...there were none!

eric's buddy sat on the side of the gully, done in, he waved and signalled he was pulling out. poor guy looked completely shattered, he looked how i felt. i waved back and pushed on, falling almost immediately! i got used to picking the bike up. you had to just give it your all, no fannying around, one short sharp burst of energy to haul the bike up, all 180kg (there abouts) of it. then clamber on - i could barely touch the ground at the best of times, so on uneven ground, i was always on the edge of falling. the dakar had taken another victim.

at one point i could not pass a bend as it was blocked with a truck and 2 cars. so i clambered up a steep 20 foot ridge to see  if i could ride safely over the top and get past. there were in fact about 4 trucks and 5 cars all stuck, i'd be here all night if i waited. so taking a run up past another fallen car, with sentinal alarms going off everywhere i took a run up in the soft sand and roared up the slope, but 2 feet short of the top the bike toppled and i was over. sliding the bike down - the slope was so steep the bike was almost upright, another run up, i made it to the top, but as i went to put my foot down the bulbous plastic on the front of my rediculously big boots caught the footpeg and so i toppled, again, "fuck it!!" and at that i completely lost it. i was ranting, stomping, shouting, i bent down and picked up a fist size rock and through it at the mountain with all my force in complete frustration and anger. dragging the bike to the crest, i lifted it up, kicked her into life and rode down the other side, the rushing air cooling the sweat pouring out of me and i took a drink from my pack.

and so the saga continued. episode after episode. i remember helping another rider, a spanish dude. very good rider, but he's got his bike wedged in a deep hole. clambering over to his bike i climbed down the hole and lifted his bike as he roared the engine. he took off and i clambered out, hands on my knees, head down, i was gasping for breath. then, something happened that lifted my spirit, a driver from one of the buggies who'd witnessed my assistance yelled out to me "come on man, you can do this, come on!!"

numerous times i had to double back as we reached sections of dried river that were impassable. the hours passed quickly, the km passed slowly, the sun was now behind the mountain. then the track out of the gully was in sight, but it was another trail climb over huge rocks, passing tucks and cars stuck on the track as we meandered up to the top of the gully. i was now riding with the spaniard and eric.

when we finally made it to the top it was a sprint towards the setting sun, but this last 100km was another frigging nightmare. the heat of the day was gone and riding and navigating in the dark slowed our progress down considerably. stopping to put my sleeves on my jacket and zip everything up before pressing on. then thinking we were nearing the finish line there was another set of dunes, small, but very very soft. my bike was overheating, i'd lost a lot of water in the gully and had to kick start the bike at any point i stalled. my roadbook lights were out again, so now i had to rely on my friend eric for the navigation, only able to check our progress when we stopped and i shone my headtorch onto the book.

we finally made it to the final checkpoint at about 1130pm. stopping, exhausted we ate our remaining food and drank as much water as we could scrounge  before setting off on the 140km liaison to our riders only bivoauc.

trying to smile

leading, i pushed on, barely able to see the road through the dusty goggles. about 60km in i was struggling to stay awake and was feeling cold. wanting to get to  the halfway point before stopping, we reached a small village, i pulled over and said to eric that i had to stop for 15 mins kip. lid off, i lay on my back on the pavement and fell asleep.

with a jump i awoke 15 mins later, i glanced over, eric had not stirred. i rested for another 5 mins before slowly clambering back to my feet and waking eric. up we climbed, bend after bend, with only the dim standard lights to lead the way (as the halogen was draining my battery) through the perpetual darkness , hardly distinguishing road from rock.

we arrived in the small town, still awake from the dakar festivities and found our camp, a small football stadium! all the riders were asleep on the floor under 2 huge open fronted tents, with the mini canteen in the middle, a large fire burning down to the embers and a few aso marshalls milling around. we parked our bikes in the middle of the field, the numbers diminishing. eating what we could and drinking coffee, tea, anything hot, we took our gift presented to us, a bag containing a woollen poncho, hats, socks etc. laying my jacket on the ground outside one of the tents i took off my armour, knee braces etc, shook out the sand as best i could, climbed back into my trouser, new woollen socks hat, lay on my back and placed the poncho on top. covering all my otherwise exposed skin to avoid the mossis, i went to sleep. first bike was leaving at 4am and it was 2am, great!

dakar stage 10: iquique to arica

day 19 - 11th january 2012

liaison 317km

special 377km

total 694km

start time 06:00

it was a relatively short liaison, up into the mountains, with trucks laden with salt trundling down in the opposite direction, in places the road looked like it was covered in snow where the precious cargo and been deposited over time. a calm mood among the riders now, fewer each day, everyone grateful to still be in the game. etienne was having his morning chat with some of the riders, always interested and concerned for our welfare, i have a lot of time for him.

the first part of the course was a very fast track, but soon became a bone juddering nightmare, the olins shocks and the whole body taking the brunt of it. passing through uninhabited villages next to dry lake beds, how anybody ever lived here, there is nothing here apart from rock, sand and dust.....

by now i found myself either passing or being passed by the same group of bikers, no words exchanged, just a knowing nod or polite hand gesture.....sometimes anyway! one particular french rider seemed to like my navigation, but as we approached cp2 he tried to race ahead, but this time i was not going to sit back, so i pinned the bike all the way to the line. don't know why i reacted that way, guess i was feeling strong and riding ok....

the wonderful thing i find about touring on motorbikes is that all of your senses work overtime, you cannot hear anything but the engine, but you can feel subtle differences in temperature of 1c or 2c, the vibrations of the terrain you are riding over (these are not so subtle!), the colours changing as the sun arcs across the sky (and the moonlight for that matter!!), but also scents, aromas and down right bad smells! sadly, when crossing the border from chile into peru, the contrast that hit me most was the smell. whilst peru is a fast developing country and lima has changed beyond recognition from when i was there last, the remote parts of the country had not yet felt the full benefit of this development; if anything the impact was probably taking younger families away to the cities. no matter, what peru did not necessarily have in monetary terms it more than made up with it's support and love for the dakar and everyone in it. for that i was most grateful.

the day was going pretty well really. i was certainly very tired, there is no denying that and the terrain was unforgiving every step of the way, but i was strangely fitter and stronger than at the start; apart from my right wrist which was constantly in pain. cleaned and strapped up each night by pauline the pretty physio who also gave me a massage.....in a tent with about 5 other physios and  mainly riders......sounds bad any which way you say that! but suffice to say everybody loved her....i only went 3 may be 4 times in the second week as my wrist was pretty sore and on one occasion another phsyio opened the curtain and said "who's next?", nobody said anything, then pauline popped her head round and said "who's next?" and we all said, "me!" it was very funny!! a light moment....

i was told the second week would be easier, i think it is a mental thing really having got past the half-way point. but these last few days were relentless.....another name i gave dakar, relentless.....it pushed and pushed you.....huge admiration for stan, ned and the pros, they really are on another level. somebody once said by finishing dakar, you join an elite club, but for me, if i finished, i would be climbing in through the dog flap or the garbage shoot!

some incredible sand dunes again today, each time i felt like i was a beginner as the scale of these dunes never ceased to impress.....perhaps overwhelm me......not sure whether i would have ever consider attempting these on my own, but for now it was just a case of let's 'crack on!'

it was very satisfying finding a way through, but at the back of my mind were the dunes that were to follow in peru. whatever challenges i was facing now, peru was to trump the lot. but my focus was today.

the dunes gave way to some long fast flowing tracks, with little surprises of fesh fesh, made all the more challenging with the cars and trucks which continued to make my journey that bit more challenging.....but exciting....i was on my toes!!

the liaison home was hard. it was very long, very hot, with a very strong side wind and a lot of traffic!! but i was excited to see arica again, it had been 16 years since i had been here last and i wanted to see what if anything had changed. what i found incredible was that i actually remembered sections of the journey from when i had been riding a chopper in the opposite direction.....but what i had forgotten was the hairpin roads etched into the sides of the mountains, giving way to lush river valleys a long way below.


i wasn't the only one to find it hard. not long after the start of the liaison one of the competing truck drivers had fallen asleep at the wheel and had sent his truck across the highway and off the edge of the road a good 10 feet below. the truck was on its roof and the cab was flattened. somehow the crew got away with a few bruises!


i was also very happy to be home and in daylight......another stage completed, unbelievable...

dakar stage 9: antofagasta to iquique

day 18 - 10th january 2012

liaison 9km

special 556km

total 565km
start time 07:15

although a very short liaison, finding the start of the special was really quite tricky, riding through little streets, crossing railway tracks, it was really obscure. for those of you who have never been to to the pacific coast of south america, the mountains and sand almost pour into the ocean, so soon enough i was climbing up into the mountains for the beginning of stage 9.

morning in antofagasta

this was the longest special of the dakar. we started with really fast flowing gravel tracks, weaving through the gullies and it meant i covered over 160km before the first car past me. there were some odd changes to the road book today and meant a fair amount of confusion on the navigation for some of the riders, however, sticking to my guns i rode on where others stopped and soon i found myself in a yo yo of riders coming past, stopping, me passing them and then they tried to come past, including captain d. a little fed up with this i upped the pace enough to stay ahead, at least until the cp.

just before the check point i found myself riding with captain d alongside, but when he could see the cp up ahead he rode off in front of his fellow soldiers on the side of the track, where he received loud cheers of support! replenishing my water, eating some food and enjoying the brief respite from the sun under our little awning, captain d asked to ride with me as he had not been able to sort his roadbook changes adequately - the amendments were confusing and it took a little discussion with ned this morning to try to clarify things before i left the bivouac. however, when one of the faster riders was looking to head off, he decided they were a better option.....

soon after leaving the cp, i was riding off piste to steer clear of the cars that were flying past. i'd tried jumping in and out of the track, but it was proving a little hazzardous now as the berms on the side of the track were probably 1.5ft high, were sometimes hard and sometimes soft. however, off-piste has it;s own hazzards, namely, the you don't know the hazards until they are almost upon you! suddenly i saw a steep drop off, but having recently had a food break i was feeling a little sluggish and i reacted slowly and badly, as i tried to stop rather than ride the drop..... big mistake as bike did not stop quickly enough, my slow reaction plus i was fully laden with 30 litres of fuel, i landed on the front wheel, which dug in and sent me over the bars, the bike following me over, i was only able to turn in time to deflect the full force of the bike landing on me, but burnt my arm on the exhaust or engine in the process.

"fucking idiot!"

"wake up! you're gonna fuck yourself up if you ride like a novice!"

later came a river crossing. i assisted one rider across the 20m wide section of water which was thigh deep and smelt of cow manure, it was rank.. wading back across, the rider i had just helped also came over to assist me. pushing the bike again with the engine off was the wisest move, i was not in a hurry at this point! having survived that crossing i then fell off 100m down the track, braking another hand guard!

i don't remember the road section of the  special, there probably was not much to remember really, other than the fact you had time to look around at the empty space around you in every direction. at over 1000m above sea level, the temperature was relatively cool at around 38c.

the second section of the special was incredible. we rode across this relatively level dried salt flats, stretching out to the mountains on the horizon, but unlike some of the lake beds i've ridden across in morocco which really are flat as a pancake, i was nearly caught out a number of times when confronted with a 2 foot berm, or ditch which would appear out of nowhere. still, the sudden surge of adrenaline would keep the mind and body going for another few km!!

approaching the last 100km i was feeling optimistic about riding the log awaited dune down to iquique. i had silently set this as a goal, i felt by reaching this point would signify a great accomplishment in terms of days survived on the dakar and a memory that would last forever; i wanted to see iqique from the top of the mountain before surfing 1200m to the bottom. the thought of it was a thrill. but as a result, i was not prepared for the incredible journey that awaited me.

seeing the first steep climb up a familiar rocky sand dune my stomach turned, the adrenaline started to flow and in riding towards the sun that was now on its slide down towards the sea, i focused on getting to the top. seeing the many bike tracks going in different directions demonstrated that this was a difficult and steep climb so it would need to hit the slope at a good speed. in the shadow of the dune, the climb took me up to what was to become a crazy roller-coaster of massively steep climbs and descents, pushing me out of my already rapidly expanding comfort zone....it was incredible to see the routes before me, surfing down 45 degree slopes for 100m before climbing again up through wide yet deep gullies. km after km this went on as i traveled west until suddenly i could see the pacific again and started the final run north, yeh!!

the next 25km were immense, the roller coaster continued. here i was riding high up on the edge of the andes, 1000m above the pacific which was may be only a few km away to the west. steep steep climbs, huge open spaces, only sand...we were riding the mountains of sand again. there were 3 or 4 bikes, familiar colours scattered across the slopes, each picking their own route, on this giant moto-cross course. it was surreal to be among such giant features ans seeing cars, trucks and bikes flying over them as if it was a normal past-time. everyone made it look so easy!

military personnel were stationed on one particular crest, offering water and waving in the direction i was traveling. sometimes i found this annoying since i was happy with my navigation and did not need this guidance, not to mention that a lot of the time the spectators inadvertently tried to send you in a different direction to the roadbook - they knew the direction of the finish line, but this was not necessarily the direction the roadbook had been designed to take you. anyway, i obliged them, took some water on board, thanked them for their hospitality and support and headed off to struggle up another steep climb. my poor bike, she received a battering!!

at one point i was so engrossed on another steep climb, in first or second gear, i had failed to read the roadbook for the next important turn. riding over the dome i slowed and rode out onto this ridgeline, which was so steep the ground sloped away from me on both sides making it almost impossible to put a  foot down to stop and read the roadbook. no sooner had i stopped to look down at this surely impossible drop to my left i head the familiar sound of a car behind. i turned to see a bright red nissan descend the route i thought was insane.....you would not consider walking down it if you were in the alpes! down i went. i think the slope was in fact a little more gentle than it appeared from the top, the lack of vegetation made it hard to read.

and then i arrived at the final decent to iquique. the sun was still shining, i was going to be surfing in daylight. brilliant. helicopter flying overhead, a large group of supporters had gathered, including a guy, dressed like a bird, presumably meant to be a condor?! either way he was happy to be there and took this photo.

only 1.2km down to the bottom of this dune!

lining myself up for the run down, i found myself caught in deep rut, but soon found my own route down traveling at around 80kph just thinking "don't fuck up now!!" i'd spotted john with his wide brimmed hat and camera, he'd almost walked to the top of the 1200m slope, but why he stopped i don't know, must be his age ; )) (only joking john, i was well impressed!). i'll have the footage on the site soon. i still find it amazing though to think the drop is equivalent to riding down from the top of ben nevis to the sea, it'a one heck of a way. and all through the night you could see the lights of cars and trucks riding down the slope, they looked like piste bashers rather than rally vehicles.

john  removing my roadbook scroll

i managed to miss the last cp, so engrossed on the surf down, i aimed straight for the finish line! so i had to circle back to find it, but finally made it to the end, seeing the familiar smile of the aso lady on the finish line - never got her name : ((  - always too wrapped up in the moment, excited, relieved, triumphant!

i have to say it gave me a huge sense of achievement to ride back into camp each night, and say to myself, "i'm still fucking in this!". then seeing the crew truck, awning and team ready and waiting was a massive boost. climbing off the bike and handing it straight to patsy or martin excited to tell them about the highlights and laughing as i showed them that i'd broken yet another pair of had guards - i think i was going through a pair a day!

in addition to patsy, martin and john, all the lads from stan's team, front row gb and the pan am crew were so supportive, right from the start. it made all the difference.

no one expected me to get this far, certainly not me, but i felt defiant now. i had so much support, i had to finish, not to say i've done it, but simply the fact that i could not envisage putting myself and by all accounts everyone else, through this hell again!

dakar stage 8: copiapo to antofagasta

day 17 - 9th january 2012

liaison 245km

special 477km

total 722km
start time 05:30


although feeling pretty refreshed after the rest day, i was a little behind in my routine, but it was a small blessing to put on clean clothing. not only had patsy and martin spun their magic with my bike, patsy had even washed my shirt, trousers, shorts, neck scarf and all the padded inserts from my lid, as well as dusting my lid, body armour and jacket using the compressor, then oiled all the zips, which had clogged up with sand. had my kit not been stolen, i would have had a new pair of trousers to put on, new shorts and shirt. but hey, it just showed you don't need all that extra kit.....if you had someone to wash it that is, thanks patsy ; )

we'd arrived in copiapo on friday evening, and it was now monday morning, so i was pleased to be finally heading north. today was going to be challenging, with one of the longest specials of the rally 477km. the first kms were across a labyrinth of tracks and together with the dust from the other riders, made it tricky to see and navigation more complicated.

i have not written a lot about the dust, i guess it was so much a part of each day that i had become used to it? i'm not sure that i did, but you did accept it to some extent....it just lingered. and once the cars and trucks had caught up you were in trouble as no sooner had the dust cleared from one passing vehicle, another would come by. in the early days when there were more vehicles it was a lot worse. i remember one situation trying to slow down quickly enough when a car passed, the dust cloud was so thick i lost all sense of where i was, the direction i was traveling in and whether or not i was stationary or still moving; this may seem hard to believe? in this instance we were at a sharp left had bend and i stopped just before hitting the berm at the edge of the track which would have sent me into the air, on or off the bike i would have been in trouble!

on another occasion i was flying along with nothing coming up in the roadbook, when  within the lingering dust cloud i had entered i suddenly caught sight of a red sign pointing to the left, jumping on the brakes i slid round the corner, glancing back at the rock face i would have otherwise crashed into. you learn from those experiences.....read the roadbook, read the road!

the landscape was barren, just a lot of rock, sharp, angular untamed rock. not long after the start, i heading down a steep slope into what looked like a wide, dry, but very rocky river bed. then up ahead i could see a very smooth looking track, that had been graded ready to be tarmaced, but suddenly out of the glare of the morning sunlight i noticed some frantically waving officials and yellow tape blocking our route! just moving around the obstacle and obviously not paying enough attention, i tried to pass a quad which was being dug out of some really thick mud. seeing what looked like a good alternative route i slowed to ride over the section of baked hard mud, but after travelling only about 6 feet my bike just stopped. this was not baked hard mud at all! this stuff had the consistency of setting concrete. stepping off the bike, which just stood upright, i attempted to move it....it was not going anywhere quickly. then, this familiar figure walked over from the quad that was being dug out to assist my exit, monsiour etienne! in jeans, white shirt and boots he jumped straight in and gave a hand to dig my front wheel out with his bear hands. i was impressed!! together we lifted the front wheel out and onto hard rock, enabling me to ride the bike out.

i felt a bit of idiot as i should have realised the trap and avoided the mud altogether, but it genuinely looked dry! but i was to realise i was not the only one to get stuck......watch and weep, i got off lightly!

i thought i had been transported to another planet, the terrain was so alien to anything i had encountered before, the gently rolling hills of baked fesh fesh, smooth, dark and crusty on the surface with indiscriminate rocks and boulders, gave way to a very soft pinky sand beneath. you had to ride fast enough to stay 'afloat', the moment you slowed the bike just sank up to the swinging arm. but the smooth hills were treacherous as one minute they were gently rolling, the next you were flying through the air and dropping 4 feet, no time to stop, on the contrary you had to accelerate to ensure you landed on the the rear wheel and maintained momentum to prevent the front wheel digging in and sending you over the bars. at one point the ground opened up before me, a 'fuck me!' moment, as i blasted over what must have been an 8 foot hole, trench, ditch, or whatever you want to call it....i thought the front wheel was going to hit the face on the opposite slope, but i cleared it, with the rear wheel taking the brunt of the force, then kicking up and the seat hitting my arse just to remind me..... that hurt!

the only evidence that this place had ever seen rain were the gullies that meandered between the crusty hills, bizarre really..... i was fascinated by the landscape..... but i was also sad that this land that had never seen man, certainly not in or on a motorised vehicle, was being ripped up by this motorcade.....the evidence of our passing would remain for many years to come.

i found myself drifting into an almost auto pilot state, every now and then seeing glimpses of other riders. the heat was bearable, may have been acclimatising, but i think the pacific side of the andes was a good deal cooler - 38-42c rather than 48-52c, still bloody hot really!!

i found myself in a distant group of riders, sometimes passing and sometimes being passed, at one point we road across a wide plain, probably spread out over a km or so , picking out our own route as we neared the end of the special, counting down the last 50km or so.

hitting the road for the liaison, i teamed up with a peruvian rider i'd met a few days earlier. few words exchanged, there was a mutual understanding, respect, support for one another. filthy, tired yet exhilarated, relieved that we had just completed another day of the dakar, another stage closer to lima..... i'd never expected to reach this stage...... and in daylight..... today was a great day!!

then out of the blue, only a few hundred meters from the roadside, i recognised a feature i had seen 16 years ago, a 30 foot sculpture of a hand rising out of the desert! i'd been on a motorbike then too, but travelling in the opposite direction; it was a roadbike, i think yamaha, with no idea whether it had oil in the engine, water in the radiator, or tyres that were safe to ride! i was riding in convoy with my great friend chris haw, uni house mate john penhale and a group of israeli travellers. we were living in the trailer of a big american truck being driven by an argentinian hippy on his route from texas to tierra del fuego.....good times ; ))

the road to antofagasta was not particularly exciting, but i was enjoying the fact that i was going to arrive in the bivouac in daylight, the first time in a number of days; i don't think arriving on rest day counted ; )) the landscape was just barren, rocky desert, the towns we passed through, just sprawling into the smoggy, dusty horizon, black smoke pouring out from the factory chimneys.....

the road book made no sense as we passed through antofagasta, but between us we kept trundling along until we saw the police and a huge gathering of supporters lining up the final route to the bivouac.

i had arrived....

the sun still had not set!!

dakar stage: rest day

day 16 - 8th january 2012
copiapo


having arrived at the bivouac at about 12pm on rest day, i was feeling ok, the sun was up, it was relatively cool and the elation of getting in and still being in the rally kept the energy levels up.

john was on hand with the camera.....



once the basic admin had been sorted, jago and i went off for lunch. it was our first chance to reflect on the previous few days events, particularly the night jago was pulled out of the race; that was the end of stage 5 and i'd since ridden stages 6 & 7, spent a night in the dunes and come in on day 8 of the dakar. i think we were both relieved in a funny way to talk about what had happened and share a few thoughts....looking to the future.....and his next adventure!

jago's family had already arrived in lima, so having spent 3 days with the support team, jago headed off in pursuit of the local airport. i decided to get my head down for an hour of two. easier said than done as the bivouac was in full swing, support teams making the most of the extra time to work on bikes, quads, cars and trucks, generators rumbling, traffic in and out of the bivouac, visitors wandering around, the red bull tent blasting out music and simply 3000 people talking or shouting. too hot for a tent, i lay down on patsy's cushion/ bed under the awning.

first hour went by pleasantly, but woke up to speak with mcn's guy martin to talk about the first week of the dakar and the previous night in the dunes. i had not realised quite what a story this had become, topped with eurosport's 'dune shot'! then chris evans popped over to see how the team were doing. great to have their words of encouragement too.

i should have been knackered, but the excitement of finishing the stage and having a break kept me going. it was also very strange to have so little to do having been so busy! patsy soon sorted me out by telling me to get my head down...again! fine, so i did. i slept well, but what i did not count on was the sun moving across the sky and casting it's intense uv rays on my arms and back.....yep, my fair english skin fried!

the last few hours past by calmly, but after some more food, apprehension set in as the nightly briefing, and roadbook preparation brought back the harsh reality of the dakar; i was after all, only half way!

the day was a chance to take a deep breath before the next 7 days onslaught.

dakar stage 7: copiapo to copiapo - the night

day 15 - 7th january 2012

liaison 154km

special 419km

total 573km

the day wore on, the kms whisked away, the sun was now starting to drop and soon it would be hidden behind the mountains. it had to press on. making good progress the last 50km could be completed by twilight if i was able to maintain the pace! i was not feeling complacent, but i was hopeful of a same day finish. avoiding some massive drop-offs - it seemed that the cars and trucks straight lined everything - i came to within 20km of the finish before i hit my final mountain of the day. the climb was very steep, the sand was so cut up that i was getting bogged down even in 2nd and 3rd gear, certainly couldn't use 1st gear unless i wanted to dig my way through the dune mountains! cars and trucks were strewn all over the mountain side, all trying to find a way up, anyway up would do, just so long as you got to the top. the route plateaud ever so slightly before it steepened more sharply again. to my left was a deep  funnel in the dune, probably 50m deep and 100m across and a car was circling it's way around at the bottom. i bounced this way and that, trying to hold on and keep the bike moving, i did not care too much about the direction so long as it was climbing and i steered clear of the deadly funnel, like a prehistoric venus fly-trap!

the bike stopped. fuck! fuck! bollocks! ok, take a breath for a minute. gathering myself and looking around, i turned and headed back down 20-30m before turning. plotting my route up, selected 2nd, revved her up let the clutch out and bang! i was off! flying up the mountain side, bouncing like kangaroo on speed, until the soft sand sucked the life out of the engine and i stopped again, same place. panting like bastard, i took my lid off and slumped over my handlebars. i had ridden so hard all day, i had fought my way up and over so many mountains already and now this, only 20km short of the finish. i could only estimate my distance of course as my battery had not been charging all day and the nav gear was starting to stop intermittently and the road book lights were not working.

then a cameraman arrived, running, sliding down the mountain from his 4x4 filming me contemplating my next step. looking around at the vehicles struggling to climb this beast, i was contemplating stopping. the sun was down behind the mountain and i still had 20km or so to to go. riding in the dark is hard enough, riding in the dunes in the dark is very hard and riding and navigating in the dark is very slow going. add to this my nav gear that was running very low on battery as not charging, the roadbook light was intermittent and i was also having to kick start the engine each time i stopped, stalled or fell - and i was doing a lot of all those things!! as we had until 6pm the following day, to finish the special and the stage, there was no need to jeopardise the completion of the dakar, not at this time anyway.

then a local lad rode his little 250 2-stroke down towards me - he made it look so easy -  and in a mix of english and spanish we discussed ways up and out off this mountain. he suggested routes up, i said this route was no good, there had to be another way round. we saw lots of alternative routes that cars and trucks were making and it was a simple decision which one i would take! the lad suggested one route off the mountain to a road which would bypass this final section of dunes, but the cameraman warned me off this approach as missing these last way points would risk disqualification. i knew this deep down, but was seriously contemplating it. i had just wanted to get in before dark and have a full rest day. but at the same time, i was excited by the idea of sleeping in the dunes. the vista was stunning, with the setting sun casting a reddish hew over the orange sand, the dark blue sky beyond and the stars were starting to shine through the night sky.

deciding to stay, i had to find a good spot to spend the night, close enough to the main route, but not in a position where i might be run over! so turning back down the slope to the small plateau, i sheltered next to one of the toyota team cars that was not going anywhere as the turbo had packed up. the cameraman followed. it was about 9pm and the night sky was upon us, the moon was rising and the stars were very bright. we were at about 1200m above sea level, about same height as ben nevis, the highest mountain in the uk. eating some of my food, i managed to blag some water from, would you believe it, a spectator who'd managed to get his 4x4 here??!!

the spectacle before me was surreal, being on the side of the dune mountain with cars and trucks tearing the hearts out of their engines trying to find a way up, most now had found alternative routes, but the lights shone brightly never the less. a car had disappeared into the funnel to replace the other that had finally escaped. they would reverse up as far as they could go, then roar in a straight line as far as they could go, then reverse, then forward, like a pendulum, picking up more speed and covering more distance each time. there were times when the car was literally feet away from making to the crest, before having to fly back down into the funnel backwards; that took balls!!

i'd taken my lightweight rab jacket, so putting that on under my race jacket, now with long sleeves re-attached and placing my neck scarf over my head, i wrapped the single foil blanket around me and over my head, a performance for the cameraman, who at this point i did not know worked for eurosport! popping my head out every time i heard an engine roaring thinking i was going to have to dart out of the way, i eventually fell asleep. but every hour i would wake up cold and stiff, turning over, re-wrapping myself in the foil sheet and falling back to sleep. a few times in the night i gazed out over the  dunes, now silhouettes in the moonlight; the stars were so bright, it really was beautiful.

later i heard the familiar sound of a motorbike, i was thinking what fruit-cake was trying to ride the dunes at this time of night. as the sound grew closer i popped my head up to see who it was and low and behold it was captain d! i remember passing earlier that evening, while he rested at the bottom of one of the many slopes. he rode on past, contouring around the top of the funnel, blissfully unaware of the gaping mouth beneath him, just waiting for him to make a wrong move. but fair play to him he made it.

as dawn broke thick cloud had formed in the valley below, above where i was the sun was bright and the sky blue, but i knew that shortly this cloud would rise and i would be in a fog for a period of time, so again had better wait. back into my shell, i dozed until the cloud had risen past, evaporated and i could now attempt to get out of this hell hole. deciding to go down further and off to my left, this proved a lot harder than expected, even the morning dew was unable to firm up the sand enough to make this a straight forward climb. but eventually i found a route and the feeling of freedom was exhilerating. as i reached the top, the sun warmed my  face. another day on the dakar, i was still in this game!

well, by now, the next part of the journey is well known, thanks to eurosport!

But for clarity, when i reached the col on that particular dune i stopped because my roadbook and gps were not functioning properly and i was not 100% certain of my position. i could see 3 options in front of me, but the next decision was a mixture of deduction and guesswork. i saw a helicopter coming from the east of me, and being early in the morning, the chances were it had just taken off, so that was the obvious route, however, i was confronted by a lot of tracks going west, south and east. i thought i would wait for the heli and wave to indicate i was lost and needed some guidance. not a chance, the heli just circled me, round, round and round again, so i thought i'd take a breather, climb to the top of the dune and take a look. so removing my lid, i did just that. i decided that the bulk of the tracks were heading east, the same direction the heli had come from. knowing i would be low on fuel, i only had one chance at this. so surfed down the face of the dune.

all seemed to be going well, in spite of the fact that there were still some hefty climbs and descents. i had rested, eaten and drunk well, so i was feeling pretty good. and then, 800m from the finish line, i ran out of fuel!!! to get to the finish i needed to get the bike up a gentle incline in the sand before descending a steep dune to the bottom, but pushing a 180+kg bike uphill in the sand is impossible, at least for me in my size 100 boots, currently filled to the brim with sand weighing about 10kg each. so i waited for another competitor for a tow or fuel. a bowler turned up, had no way of syphoning the fuel out for me, so offered to tow. the navigator was a biker, so very willingly helped push while the driver towed, but sadly the driver was a little over zealous and shot off, leaving myself and my companion to watch in horror as he dragged my now fallen bike across the sand, flipping it over a couple if times.

after that effort, they tried again, but the now the car was getting stuck. they'd at least moved me to a point where i could push the bike down a slope, but behind the one i wanted to go down; there may be a route out at the bottom? bizarrely as we were discussing this, a random man was walking by who turned out to be a physio from the yamaha team?! making the most of the rest day he thought he'd take a jaunt up the finishing slope. thankfully he offered to help me push the bike down. top bloke. then headed off to see whether he could borrow some fuel and get some food, i laid up at the bottom, using my foil blanket as an awning over the bike.

a short while later he turned up with sandwiches, grapes and a coke, i was so impressed and incredibly grateful. thinking about how i was going to get over the small crest in front of me this pick-up truck turned up. the physio had managed to get a local to bring over a gallon of fuel. what could i say?!! no one would take  any money, the spirit and support was incredible. starting the engine, i was up and away, over the crest and there was the bloody finish line, thank fuck for that!

i came up to the line to the sound of air horns, claps and cheers and i punched the air in gratitude to them and in defiance to the dakar, i'd made it to rest day!! patsy and john had turned up at the finish too. i'd sent a text to them about my lack of fuel and they'd come up to find me, but not knowing where i was, other than 800m from the finish. to be so close yet so far.

dakar stage 7: copiapo to copiapo - the day

day 15 - 7th january 2012

liaison 154km

special 419km

total 573km

start time 07:10


had a pretty good rest, but not a brilliant sleep. i kept waking up thinking it was time to get up, i guess i had not rested for so many hours in one hit? i was also aware that patsy's crew had arrived and needed to work on my bike which had travelled over 1200km without much of a service due to my short time at the fiambala bivouac. in fact i remember now that jago dropped some gear into my tent and i showed him my swollen leg. having been hit by the car 2 days prior, i had barely had anytime to see the damage. the obvious signs were my inability to straighten my left leg, the second was the fact that there was little difference in size between my thigh, knee and calf, it was tree like. but my simple logic at this stage was that my knee brace would keep me supported and i could ride the bike with a stiff leg.

it was a relatively late start, probably because the day's route was circular, arriving back in the same bivouac for rest day, here in copiapo. it turned out that the day jago was taken out of the dakar about 10 other riders had also faired the same fete, either with blown engines or heat exhaustion. the heat was getting to everyone. patsy warned me that because the organisers have given the competitors until 6pm the following day (rest day) to finish, i should expect this to be a tough day and should prepare to spend the night out in the dunes. so stuffing my pockets with extra food i set off.

although this was a challenging day, it was probably my most enjoyable. away from the tight tracks and dry river beds, the vast atacama desert of chile, was a wild, open and barren place, huge mountains of sand and rock, an inhospitable landscape, i felt like i was riding in a sepia lens, losing all sense of colour. the first stage was fast open tracks, but was followed with a long middle liaison section before hitting the second special. it was wonderful to see the ocean, the pacific, i had now crossed the continent.

the cooler ocean air soon evaporated and the fiery heat of the desert prevailed. i stopped a mile or so after the special start as i had problems with my battery and lights, but after messing around with my fairing and losing 30mins, i pressed on. the track seemed pretty fair, but as i had now learned the dakar would soon bite my ass! the first test was seeing a truck travelling down a steep slope towards me, i realised it was not a navigational issue, but one about trying to get to the top of the first steep cole. nailing it on the flat, i immediately felt the reduction in the bike's speed as i started the incline, in what looked firm, but was an energy sapping sandy rock or rocky sand; . dropping one gear, then two, i was very quickly in second gear revving the tits off the bike, trying to keep the bike moving forward without the front end lifting back over the top of me! you would expect this on an enduro, not a rally, but then no-one said this was going to be easy.

a brief moment of respite as i hit the cole, looking at the open expanse in front of me, i descended quickly.  i could see a vehicle in the distance, but it was a long way down, a long way away. with no trees or other features to gauge distances, the dead ground, made everything look close, but then when you saw something you could gain some perspective like a car, you then realised how vast the landscape really was. i love big, wide open spaces. having spent time in north east greenland, the yukon and the himalayas, i never feel more at home than this kind of environment, so long as you have access to water and some food of course!!

my daily routine would be to ride as far as possible before the first car past me, normally between 130-160km. i would then stop, take a piss, eat my lunch, let the first 3 or 4 cars go by and then press on. by then i would have already ridden a 250km liaison and on average and say on average145km of special, therefore 400km or 250 miles by lunch. however, i don't remember lunch on this particular day, not yet anyway.

earlier i mentioned mountains of sand. i had trained in the sands of morocco and tunisia, frozen oceans of sand, waves, flowing in one direction, gentle slopes one side, steep the other, so depending which way you crossed them determined how hard it would be to ride. here however, there were no patterns, just mountains of sand, 1200m mountains of sand, fucking huge piles of sand and rock sometimes, perched on top of more fucking sand. i had seen photos of previous dakars, they's scared me then, incomprehensible, but here i was, alone, riding up and down these insane slopes; you'd think twice about skiing down some of these, but here i was accelerating down them to ensure my front wheel did not dig in and flip me off sending me off down the mountain side. it was exhilarating. mental. crazy. but it was awesome!! this was dakar's finest hour.

on reflection, as i write, perhaps i should perhaps describe these mountains of sand as waves, but huge waves, gigantic waves, each one requiring my full attention to get me to the top and down the other side. it was relentless, another name for dakar, relentless, never ending, surely it must stop, how can they expect this of someone, to continue hour after hour over these monstrous dunes???

the memories are overwhelming. gritting my teeth, bouncing over the rocks and sand, each time planning my route in advance of the impending climb, building up speed, riding as hard as i can in one direction, before turning across the face of the wave to continue the climb to the top. locals gathered like vultures to watch the competitors pit their wits against these giants of time, lapping up the disastrous attempts, but then cheering and screaming on like possessed demons to those who defeat their foe. each successful climb was small achievement, a reward, but short lived as the next one loomed in the distance. it was exciting, it was frightening, it was a game, it was dakar!

in previous races, you could look for alternative routes and ways round, but on this scale you risked travelling miles out of your way and could end up running out of fuel and or end up in a place you would rather not be and where no one would find you. judging by the texts i received, the sat track was not picking up all the riders positions all of the time, so you were very much alone in this wilderness.

the day wore on. having raced off with captain dakar, at the start of the special, i thought i'd let him race on ahead while i sorted out my bike. he seemed to be following all the riders, jumping onto the next rider if it suited his timings better. there was no loyalty, he was very much out for his own. patsy had said to me that in preparation for the dakar you had to be selfish, by that she meant sacrificing time spent with family and friends. but on the dakar it was a fine line between looking after yourself and others, you never knew when it was going to be your turn when you needed a lending hand. however, you chose wisely, you had a pretty good instinct for those who would support and those who wouldn't. but when i came across captain d sitting on his bike going nowhere, i immediately offered to help. he could not start his bike in the sand. it is hard as when you need to kick start the bike, you need to stand on the pegs, but to keep the bike upright you need to lean against something like a tree or have your side-stand resting on something firm and sand aint firm and more often than not there was little you could use - worse case the inside of your lid. so i held his bike as he attempted to kick, but he was knackered. so i jumped on and kicked like, well i won't write the expression zippy would tell me as he and i would be in serious trouble. suffice to say i kicked it fucking hard 6 or 7 times in quick succession, until she exploded into life, revving hard to ensure a good flow of air and fuel, i handed the energetic bike back to her owner. he fucked off without so much as a thank you. was i surprised, no not really, and with a wry smile i climbed back onto my bike and started her with the push of a button. this time anyway!

to be continued....