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!