Dakar – lessons from the longest race on earth. Part 9

Did you ever set out to do something out of your comfort zone, and you are unsettled by it, and it’s challenging, but once you are there and it seems to be going well, a feeling of satisfaction comes over you?  You are proud of what you are doing?

You never know what you can do if you do not try.  

I took stock of where I was. In Saudi Arabia, in the most remote locations, racing in the longest race on the planet. Pinch me. I’m actually here doing it.

Ted was doing great with his duties, taking enough footage, interviews, and setting up GoPro cameras on the car each day so we could make a movie later.  The question is – how will it end?  I guess that part was my job.

South Racing continued to wow me.  I became great friends with my mechanics, the cooks, and the whole staff.  At Dakar, everyone is in the same boat.  We are all talking at dinner about our day, the challenges, and our problems.  Egos are out the door by now.  We are all helping each other however we can.  

Stage 6.  A long one today.  A whopping 925 Kilometers.  270 km liaison, 336 km special, and 260 km liaison back.  That’s far.  The liaisons were very cold sitting there at the speed limit on the road.  But during the day, it was perfect – cool – no sweating. 

Today, ALL DUNES!  

Today was the day to see if I had shaken the dune curse for good.  We started the special in the dunes, watching cars launch up over the first high crest and disappear.  Our turn.  Let’s go!  

I did great!  I did not feel sick all day.  Up and down.  Up and down.  Up, up, up, and doooooown.  Early on, I followed an “ultimate class” car closely.  I learned some lines from him.  It’s an advantage to follow another guy because you can see how fast his car disappears over a crest.  If it’s a gentle slope on the other side or a sharp downhill, you can see it and ride the crest appropriately yourself.  After 30 minutes or so, we were on our own. 

We got the four-wheel drive figured out – good thing because in this soft sand, we needed it.  After 200 km, we had to stop to add water to the engine again. The problem was not getting fixed.  We were thinking it was a head gasket.  They had changed the radiator, hoses, and all kinds of things to try to fix it, yet we were still losing antifreeze.   

At one point, the car would not go over 90km/hr.  But Dennis found a low gear switch that was engaged.  

We were in the dunes for the last hour.  Our lights were not good like the lights we have in Baja.  But here they don’t expect you to be out at night for too long.  In Baja, you are racing sunset to sunrise.  Dennis told me something surprising – he had never navigated at night before. I probably had 100 hours of night racing experience.  It didn’t worry me – but these lights seemed like 2 candle-power.  Geez.  

I was really happy about my driving.  The dunes were tough.  Another South racing car aborted the day when it got dark.  He would not drive in the dunes at night for how scary it can be.  He was out of the Dakar Rally for that.

My mechanics were thrilled that I went six days without a flat or any major damage.  They say it is a Dakar record.  Put me in the record books, coach!  Hey, it’s something!…..

We finished 110th on the day, 19th in our class – the best yet.  We are in 107th position overall for all four-wheel vehicles.  

We got back to the bivouac at 10 pm.  I got to bed at 12:30 am.  Late.  Here’s the great news.  There is a “rest day” – no racing for a day in the middle of the rally.  Tomorrow was a rest day! We were near Riyadh and could perhaps go to the city for a visit.  But there was no way I’d have time.  There was much to do, including REST!

I had finished the first half of the Dakar Rally.  Many did not. I had the terrain and the driving figured out.  There was no terrain type they could throw at me now that I was not comfortable in.  At least I thought…

I was tired and grateful.

Dakar – lessons from the longest race on earth. Part 8

Stage 4  – January 7.

Twice in this race they had the racers do something especially challenging.  We raced 450 kilometers one way, where they gave you a tent and sleeping bag.  You pitched your tent in the middle of nowhere, and in the morning you raced back.  No mechanics.  Only two spare tires.

The course was fast all day.  In our class, SSV, we had a speed limiter – we could go up to 135 km an hour, or 84 miles an hour.  We were at that a lot.  It’s scary when you get dusted out and can’t see where you are going at 84 mph!

The engine was getting hot and we were concerned.  Too hot and the engine blows and we are out of the race.  Towards the end we had to stop and put four liters of water into the radiator.  It must have been leaking out somewhere.  Hopefully that somewhere was not through the head gasket into the engine.  After we got the checkered flag, it was only one kilometer to the camp.  It turned out to be a majestic setting where the flats rolled up against small mountains made of near vertical rock. 

As far as the overall standings, at the end of Stage 1, we were in 181st place out of about 280 four-wheel vehicles.  After stage 2 – 150th.  After Stage 3 – 135.  And now after stage 4 – 120th.  

Sometimes, you just keep showing up in life, long after your competition has failed, lost interest, retired – and you are ahead just because you kept showing up.

We got our tent, our sleeping bag, and a box of food.  Tent pitched, food hydrated with water, and eat. Sun sets, climb into the tent and go to sleep.  I’m a side sleeper, and the hard ground made for a bad night’s sleep with my shoulders and hips hurting.  In the morning we awake to the beautiful setting.  Instant coffee, eat, and wait a bit for our start time, watching other vehicles start from a perch up the rocks.  

Stage 5 was leaving this remote place and making our way back to the bivouac, which was normal, moved hundreds of miles since we saw it last.  They pack everything up – this whole city, and move it long distances, and set it up again.  Usually, just in the time we are out on the course.  It’s a miracle of logistics, planning and teamwork.

The course was fast all day.  We’d be going along and suddenly the car would come out of 4-wheel drive.  If I was turning, we’d start to fishtail.  Later, we would learn that we were just in the wrong electronic “mode”.  We did not know the car well enough at that moment.

The car continued to run hot, but it was intermittent.  We could not explain it.  It would be hot, then the temperature would come down.  Later, it would heat up again.  We had to stop for ten minutes to add four liters of water again.  We finished 115th overall in all four wheel classes, and 24th in our class – the best yet.  We were now 116th overall.  The mechanics fixed the water leak (so they thought) and replaced a broken sway arm.

I felt good – better every day.  The days are long, but my brain accepted it.  This is what we do every day.  We drive – fast in rough terrain – ALL DAY LONG.  That is our life right now.  

Dennis is great.  He is smart, experienced, and calm.  No drama.  Being from South Africa he has an accent.  (He says it’s me.)  Speed zones near villages or camel paddocks are either thirty kilometers per hour or fifty.  Well, the way the South Africans say “thirty” and “Fifty” sounds the same. Especially though headphones with tons of background engine and tire noise.  We had enough misunderstandings and clarifications that I asked him to say “Third Eye” or “Fitty Cent”.  He laughed and complied.  It worked.  

Dennis – “In 300 meters, speed zone, fitty cent.” 

Me – “Got it”

Dakar – lessons from the longest race on earth. Part 7

Stage 2 was 100 Kilometers of liaison and 400 kilometers of special.  At the start we were in rocks.  Now, when I say rocks, I mean rocks you can’t go around.  Rocks with no dirt.  Nothing but rocks.  Flat tires are a big concern.  You carry two spare tires.  If you get more than two flats, your in trouble.  Many drivers got four flats this day.  Good for them there was an area where they can meet their chase teams and get new spares. I saw more than one car on more than one day driving with a flat – sometimes to where the tire was shredded off the rim – but they had no choice but to try to nurse it in.

For the third day of racing, we did not have any flat tires.  Maybe it’s my sharp eye for the smoothest lines from being a motorcycle rider all those years.  If you hit the wrong rock on a bike, it could be disastrous.  At high speed – deadly.

Yesterday we finished 31st out of 38 in my class.  Today we finished 30th.  I was getting my rhythm slowly.  My goal was to finish.  It did not matter what place I finished.  The difference between finishing 15th or 30th was tiny compared to the difference between finishing and not finishing.  I was in it to survive.

When someone passes you they make dust and you cannot see.  You hope for a crosswind.  I would back off so the dust would thin out until I could see because I do not want to make a big mistake.  But by slowing down, the next guy behind you pushes a button to pass you.  That will make a buzzer go off three times in your car so you know he wants to pass.  If he pushes three times on you, you have to pull over and let him by.  That puts you in the dust again, and the cycle is repeated.  

One driver flipped his car and crashed out just 1.5 kilometers into the Prologue!  He was out.  Heartbreaking.  I did not want that to be me.  

The way it works is that if you just finish each day, you will move up in the rankings because each day other guys are out.  I wanted to just keep finishing cleanly, and I had to remind myself that I wasn’t here to race anyone.  I know – it’s a funny strategy for a race, but the right one for Dakar.

On this stage we were in the dunes late in the stage. It got dark on us and we were in the dunes at night.  Cresting a dune and falling into the black abyss is unnerving.  I learned to surrender to it and keep going.  We finished, proud of what we had done.

The next day was Stage 3.  It was January 6, 2026.  We had a very long one today – 725 kilometers.  420km was the “Special”, or the timed dirt section.  We saw cars upside down, a truck on it’s side, and cars crashed all over the place.  Not as many cars were passing me today.  We’d see a car pass us, and then he has a flat tire later and we pass him.  Sometimes they’d pass me again, and then he is broken down and we pass him, with some comment like “Look at you now!”.  I know that is not very sportsmanlike, but in the fury of the race, it seems appropriate.

The terrain was beautiful.  Red canyons with orange sand sloped up in between them by the wind.  We finished the special and had a two hour liaison in the cold wind to get back to the bivouac.  We have no windshield, and it gets cold at night – down to 50 degrees or so.  We were frozen when we rolled in at 9 pm. 

The mechanics loved me – there was not much for them to fix!  No flats again.  They tore down the car anyway, maintaining and tuning, looking for structural cracks and problems waiting to happen.  The poor mechanics, three of them, were up almost all night every night.

Stage 3 complete.  Feeling good about it all now.  

Meanwhile South Racing put Ted to work.  He had to drive our RV from one bivouac to the next.  That could be 7-9 hours on paved road.  And Saudi Arabian roads are boring.  They are flat as a pancake and straight as an arrow.  And aside from the occasional small rocky mountain, there is nothing to look at.  There are no trees, no grass, and well, nothing in most places.  Just flat and barren.  Poor Ted.  

I felt like I was racing in places where few humans ever go.  Amazing scenery in the interior places.  I felt privileged to see God’s creation.

Just 6000 kilometers to go, or something like that – but who is counting…

Dakar – lessons from the longest race on earth. Part 6

Stage 1

Each race vehicle is given a specific start time, 30 seconds apart.  There were 380 total race vehicles, I think.  Our start time was 10:50 am.  Our mechanics had changed the turbo out the night before.  

The way this works in these rallies is that you go on the paved road for a while first.  That is called the “liaison”.  The reason is that to find a proper flat place big enough to set up the bivouac and to find a proper place to race, well, they aren’t always in the same place.  So you start at your assigned time, run the liaison on the road at a speed limit, get to the timed dirt section called the “special”, and then start the real racing.  At the end of the special, your racing time is over, and you take another liaison back to the bivouac.  

If you get stuck out there or have a problem you have to fix, you get into the bivouac later, which means the mechanics have less time to work on your car, and you get less sleep.  If you do not finish a stage, you are out of the race.

Stage one went great.  I can drive the car; that is not a problem.  This car is a turbo – a real rocketship compared to the normally aspirated car I race in Baja.  It was 8 hours in the car.  There were some dunes at the very end of this stage.  I did great.  What a relief to have the first dunes behind me!

My kidneys were really hurting from the bouncing.  We were in the car for 8 hours.  I forgot to wear the kidney belt I brought with me.  The rest of the rally I did not forget.  That night I went to the physical therapist that South Racing brought with them – yes – Dakar is no joke, and you need that some days!  He fixed my back, and my kidneys were not a problem from then on.  

There were 12 more days of racing ahead of me.  But I tried not to think of that.  I took it one moment at a time.  What do we have to do next?  Get this dusty racing suit off.  Take a shower at the shower trailer.  Eat.  Get what I need ready for tomorrow.  Do an interview with Ted.  Post photos on Facebook.  Go to sleep.  Wake up 90 minutes before the start time.  Eat.  Get gear on.  Go through the checklist.  Put food in the car.  (There is no lunch out there.)  Get in the car.  Strap in and hook up.  Drive to start, find the car number that is ahead of you, and get behind it.  

One stage complete.  

Good.

Dakar – lessons from the longest race on earth. Part 5

I have never been to Saudi Arabia.  I never thought I would be.  What’s it like?  Is it safe?  

I’ve never been to Istanbul, Turkey, either.  We landed there after an 11-hour flight.  It looked like a place I would go back to.  Beautiful spots.  Great food.  The people looked cool to me.  Then a 3 1/2 hour flight to Yanbu, Saudi Arabia.

We got in late.  We went through customs and immigration without any problems. The Rally sent a bus to pick up a full load of racers from many countries.  It’s dark.  On our way from the airport, the clock strikes midnight.  New Year’s.  It’s 2026 now.  Nobody really noticed or said anything, except me and Ted acknowledging it to each other.   Dakar is weightier than New Year’s – noted.

We pull into a dusty parking lot.  All places there are dusty.  There is no rain.  No vegetation.  Ted and I aren’t really sure what is going on.  

We all get off and walk up to a light inside a tent.  They check our names against the registration list and give us wristbands.  Back in the bus.  We get to enter the bivouac.  It’s a French word that means camp.  Bivouac.  It’s a small city.  We find our way to the South Racing set up.  They are there to meet us.  They show us our RV.  We meet Dennis, my codriver.  Three of us sleeping in a small RV.  

The next day we met more people from South Racing who were taking care of us.  They had semi trucks set up – a mobile kitchen with two chefs from Poland.  A guy from South Africa running the food in front.  A expandable glass semi-trailer you could sit in and eat and get out of the cold/wind that had a coffee machine and snacks all the time.  Multiple semi trucks for parts and tools and even spare engines.  A tent set up over every race car.  A real professional operation.

There were guys and a few women from all over – Italy, Germany, Portugal, Spain, France…and that is just with the 80 people that South Racing had to take care of 11 race cars.  They were all in my class – “SSV”.  And they were all CanAm Maverick R models.  Five of them were the CanAm factory race team.  South Racing has a partnership to support five factory-backed CanAm teams.  The other six teams were privateers like me.  They were from England, Turkistan, Scotland, Spain, France, etc.

Then we had to go register for the race, get interviewed, and take the car and our gear to tech inspection.  The bivouac was amazing.  When I was a kid, I liked Matchbox cars.  But a pack of them invariably had some weird-looking cars.  As a kid, I said to myself, there are no cars like that.  I had never seen cars that looked like that.  Well, now I know where they came from – Dakar.  They have some unique designs there that they have been running for many years.  Euro race cars are no joke either.  It’s funny to see a Mini and think it’s cute.  Then they start it, and it sounds like a big block Chevy with headers on it. 

Dennis was 54.  I am 61.  He was chill like me.  We were very compatible.  I was happy about that.

The next day, we had to “Shake down” the race car.  It would be the first time I was driving the car.  A 20 Kilometer loop was set up.  Dennis navigated, and I drove.  We got to know each other and know the car.  We did a second lap and were satisfied.  When we got back, we talked to our mechanics about a few adjustments, and we were ready.  

Tomorrow, the race starts with a short 40-kilometer “warm-up” called the “Prologue”.  Finally, after a year and a half of getting here….

I went to bed about 10 pm.  I woke up at 11.  Oh no.  I had two fears coming here.  The dunes, and getting sick again.  I did so much to prevent it.  I brought some of my own food.  Nuts, dates, healthy snack bars, peanut butter – calorie-rich stuff I could carry.  The race is tomorrow.  I was puking and….

Based on this story, you might think I am fragile and get sick a lot.  No.  Not me.  I never got sick in Mexico, where I have raced over twenty times.  But this stomach bug in the Middle East has my number.  I was moaning all night with every exhale.  I was lying two feet from Ted.  Poor Ted.  Both guys heard every biological rumble and squeak – all night.  No sleep at all for me.

In the morning, I managed to get up and go to the medical tent.  They gave me some stuff to take and I went back to the RV to lay down more. I was still under attack.  Our start time was 3 pm, as it was only 46 kilometers of racing on dirt.  Surely another hour and it would be over…right?  9 am.  Moaning.  10 am.  Can’t sit up.  11 am.  Still.  I did not think I could race.

Are you kidding?!  All this…trying to finish the longest race in the world and I can’t even make the Prologue?!  Am I out before it starts?

Noon.  Finally, the cloud lifted, and Satan left my body.  No sleep, but I was glad to be able to sit up.

By 3 pm, I was able to eat a little and get my gear on.

I feel like I should be given a medal for starting after all I had been through!  Or at least a hug.

Green flag.  I am racing the Dakar Rally!  Finally!  

46 Kilometers.  The car was running good until we lost our turbo and could only go 90km an hour instead of 135 as a top speed.  One other big problem – my kidneys were killing me.  It got so bad I didn’t want to hit bumps anymore – and it’s all bumps!

Tomorrow – Stage 1.  460 kilometers. (285 miles).