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.