The second week- down to business:
OK, so this can’t be a “newsletter” as it cannot possibly be called “news” 3 days after the event ends. At this stage what you need is not so much a daily “breakdown” of events as maybe just a selection of anecdotes from my experiences during the second week of Dakar 2011.
So here are my thoughts… :
...on crossing the majestic Andes mountains: Crossing the Andes from east to west or vice versa is not a matter of riding up one slope and down the other. The Andes are, of course, a huge massif of peaks and valleys and between the two passes on either edge there is a vast high altitude plateau, anything between 3.500 and 4.800 metres in altitude. We crossed twice, both times in the hour just after dawn, having left the bivouac in the dark. It was absolutely bone-crunchingly freezing cold on both occasions. We all put on (and under) every single spare item of clothing and apparel we could lay our hands on (in fact Cyril Despres’ returning off the stage to fetch his winter gloves cost him a 10 minute penalty which arguably cost him a win), but after two hours at that altitude in the cold most riders were forced to stop sporadically just to shake some life back into their frozen limbs and bodies. The scenery is barren at that altitude, and, as usual, barren is beautiful. Rocky, sandy landscapes in various shades of brown and red, interspersed by almost glowing turquoise glacial lakes, with permanent snowcaps on the surrounding highest peaks. At altitude the air is bracingly crisp in the truest sense of the word and I found that the sky had a faint, almost magical, lilac hue to it in the dawn sunlight which is hard to describe but which I came to realize is probably part of what drives mountaineers to scale the worlds highest peaks. If such wonder is possible at 4.500 metres….what must one feel like on top of the world at 8.900 metres?!
...on the white dunes of Fiambala: This stage followed one of the Andes crossings and saw temperatures in excess of 40 degrees. It is worth noting what unexpected mental and psychological strain is added to the event by the route directors making you spend 4 hours just above zero and then another 4 hours at over 40 degrees! On this day I missed my start time by around 11 minutes as the altitude had made me (and many others) quite sleepy in the morning and I was forced to “take five” next to the road to literally sleep for five or ten minutes just to avoid falling asleep altogether on the bike! This meant that about 20 more bikes (one every 30 seconds) left before me than was necessary and on the 170km of sandy twintrack and dunes that followed it didn’t exactly make the going easier! In addition to cut-up soft sand track and high temperatures I at one stage followed a lone set of car tracks over a hilltop (a strange two-faced affair that looked like a mountain on one side but turned out to be an ultra steep dune on the other side) and got severely off course. Not by a great distance, but into such rugged and almost unrideable terrain that I had to stop for a few minutes just to “get a grip” as it dawned on me that if I played my cards wrong at that moment it would mean the end of the Dakar for me. I would either run out of energy or water or fuel or all three. Luckily I managed to claw my way back to the route along a boulder strewn riverbed after about 30 minutes and finished the stage exhausted but relieved.
...on my TV appearance: This was an extremely technical section which was to be ridden by the bikes only. Any riders without enduro experience were at a serious disadvantage here! One rider fell on a dune, had a buggy jump on him while he was pinned under the bike, and then later watched his bike go up in flames after a fuel leak….a bad day at the office.) Incredibly steep downhills were followed by tight and twisty canyon sections and then by very steep, short uphills of super-powdery soft fesh-fesh. Navigation was so difficult that two choppers circled the area in order to guide the riders into the correct canyons. As I was abusing the 690 through the uphill fesh-fesh towards the cameraman the rear wheel suddenly found a rock buried in the sand to hook up on, shooting the bike out from underneath me and sending me sprawling back downhill while the bike continued in a graceful arc sans rider, eventually crashing down beside me after performing a neat semi circle in the dust. I got up (no, not “dusted myself off”…for obvious reasons) and the camera lens was already in my face. Realizing it was my chance at stardom I made all the required noises as I lifted the almost 200kg bike up against the slope thereby avoiding the embarrassing and time consuming process of dragging the bike around on the ground. I haven’t seen the footage myself but by all your accounts it was worth the effort...?
...on the second last day: Saving the best for last, as they say! 70km of super soft sand and dunes through some vegetation, followed by 40km of fesh-fesh, followed by 60 km of mud. I’m from South Africa…I can’t ride mud! There was one floodplain (yep, which had indeed been flooded the night before) that had turned into a slippery, perfectly flat sheet of mud-ice. No matter what I did, the slightest turn of the throttle would cause the bike to slide sideways and down I went into the mud….again! About 4 times in 30 minutes. Picking the bike up when your gloves are full of mud and your boots are sliding around in mud-jelly was an interesting experience in the physics of forces and fricton. At one stage just before the second fuel stop I rode into what I thought was an elongated puddle only to find that it was a 800mm deep rut full of mud and water. The engine started to sound like it might expire permanently, so I switched off and proceeded to lift first the tail of the bike, and then the front, out of the mud before tottering on. I came across a guy further on who had ‘cross threaded” his front and back wheels in different ruts, then spun out completely and then ended up knee deep in a mudhole and stuck with his back wheel tangled up in a wire fence! My Leatherman did its job perfectly and by this time we were both just laughing at our predicament!
...on the rally support offered by Desert Rose Racing: Their support and assistance throughout the Dakar was superb and went way beyond what they were “obliged” to do for me. Patsy Quick, the owner, has experienced and finished Dakar on a bike herself and knows exactly what is required. Over the past few years she has established Desert Rose as a preferred rally assistance team for bikers from all over the world. The best thing is…she’s so passionate about the sport that for her, its never been about making mountains of money. Her aim and dearest wish at any rally is to get her riders through with the best results possible. Its reflected in her dedication and attention to every little detail. And yes, she’s a bit like mum sometimes…but believe me, all you hardcore adventure riders… (and I don’t care how much hair you have on your chest) after 8 or 9 days on the Dakar, EVERYBODY, can do with a bit of mum now and again! Patsy also has loads of experience of assistance at less hard rallies like the Touareg or Heroes Legend in Morocco, for example. So if you fancy a taste of rally adventure without the extreme challenges of the Dakar I suggest you start by contacting Desert Rose. You will be amazed at how easy they make arrangements for you.
...on the route in general: Personally, I would venture to say there was a fair amount of correspondence between bike manufacturers and the organizers gently “reminding” the organizers that if the 450cc bike were to make it through the Dakar “en masse” in future, the route would would have to be made more technical and “slower” so the engines would last longer. All the 690cc riders whom I spoke to agreed: Yes, the 690 was good and super-reliable as usual….but the many many technical sections made them incredibly physical to ride and if you had brought a 690 without the necessary fitness to muscle it around for hours on end you were always going to be on the back foot against the more nimble 450’s! The TV footage suggests otherwise…but actual, “450 destroying” deep-sand dune crossing were limited to a total of maybe 400 km only of the total race distance. An interesting hypothesis is how well riders of Cyril or Marc’s abilities would have done , had they still been on 690’s?
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