Day 6. We got the green flag at 10:40 am. We started 26th of 38 based on our Prologue finish. I felt good in the car for the first hour or two – I don’t recall how long it was. Then they appeared. Dunes. Big sand dunes. As we got in farther they got bigger – as tall as ten-story buildings. I knew they were coming, and I thought I’d have fun in them. But I wasn’t fully prepared.
They were steep. You had to commit because they were soft. Full throttle to the top. If you let off you’d get stuck. BUT, as you come to the crest you couldn’t see over the other side. Sometimes they are almost straight down on the other side. The crest wiggles like a snake – sometimes tighter than you expect and sometimes the other way – you can’t see until you are going over. It’s unnerving.
You have to let off the throttle enough not to get any air going over because you could easily flip your car end over end all the way down the other side. But you can’t let off too much because you’ll get stuck in the soft sand. Then you both have to get out and start digging. Good luck with that.
The dunes were other-worldly. A undulating environment of tan curves. When you are in the bowl it’s easy to become disoriented. It was very hot. I am nervous. Bruno is giving me orders. I’m sweating. I’m strapped into this very loud vibrating car in a monkey suit. The windshield is blocking any airflow to me. The only exposed skin was part of my face anyway. I’m hot. I’m getting dizzy. Scared of flipping the car.
We are searching for a hidden waypoint in these dunes. If we miss it we get an hour penalty. We have to backtrack. Bruno points. We are in virgin sand – no tracks. It’s hot. I’m dizzy. I’m nauseous. If there is one thing I hate in life is throwing up – and the feeling that preceeds it. But I’m there. I start making strange moans. I can’t deny it.
Bruno says “Larry, what is the matter?!” It’s loud and we are bobbing in the dunes like a boat on rough seas. “I’m gonna puke!” Good thing I have an open-face helmet I thought, though I’d fill my microphone with puke. I guess Bruno would hear what that sounds like…
At first he tells me to stop and take a moment. I do. But I know there is only one way out of here – and that is to keep going. I know I have to face it and I don’t want to prolong it. I start moving again. I’m moaning again. I’m really dizzy.
Bruno, probably fearing that if I puke while I’m driving I’d not be paying attention and be risking his life, tells me to stop. We’re looking up at sand in all directions. He yells “Get out of the car!” I do. He meets me on the drivers side and yells “Put your finger down your throat and throw up!” I know that’s the only way I am going to get through this. I try. Nothing. I try again. Not much. I can’t do it. Damn!
It may have only been four minutes or so – or ten. I don’t know. Bruno was prepared to drive the car out of there, but sitting in the passenger seat I knew, would make things much worse. I climbed back in and strapped up. I had to go. I had to get through this.
The dunes seemed like they’d never end. They went on for 30 kilometers. I’m moaning again. I hate this. Why did I come here? This sucks. Really sucks. The dunes get smaller. Mercifully they end and were back to hard dusty desert wasteland. But this kind of feeling doesn’t just go away. I’m fighting nausea the rest of the race. We finish 26th of 38 – just how we started. So in net, nobody passed us – that’s good.
We get back to the bivouac and I am sick. The veteran racers are not surprised. They tell me it’s common. Andrew Short says he has to take Dramamine – a double dose or he’d get sick in the dunes too.
I go to bed motion sick. I’m in bad shape. Stage two tomorrow. There will be the same dunes as we are doing a similar loop but backwards. I am dreading it. Seriously dreading it….