EMSF Desert Championship R2 24/10/2014

The second round in the Emirates Desert Championship.   2 hours in the desert up near Lihbab, some nice sand there and it’s much cooler than the last time.  And I have my favourite co-driver beside me.  So what could possibly go wrong?

Plenty, as it turns out.  The first lap is interrupted by our colliding with the white  Nissan which started 30 seconds ahead of us. Mr Cherednikov had managed to stall it on the blind side of a dune, and 30 seconds isn’t really enough time to get out and warn people.  He finally gets it going again but we get ahead of him.  We’re now the leading car and make an error navigating a passage control, which Sheila quickly spots, and we’re back on track.  On the second lap we make a rather superb overtake (in all modesty) on a buggy as we go through the one decent flat stretch of the lap, where I’m up to 140kph.   But just after that, Sheila tells me she’s about to be sick - so I stop.  She decides not to be sick, but clearly isn’t in a fit state to continue, so I carefully drive to the pits and hand her over to the medics.  John Spiller kindly agrees that I can continue solo, so off I go again.  I’ve lost about half an hour, but at least I can get a finish and score some points.

I rejoin the start-finish straight just ahead of Mansoor Parol, and quickly leave him behind, and complete three quick laps, overtaking a couple of buggies in the process.  But on the final lap, I miss a gear change going up a dune and crest out on the top.  Bugger!  Still, no problem, I have 4 sand tracks in the back.  Or rather, I started with 4 sand tracks.  But at some point it apears they’ve made a bid for freedom,  so it’s out with the shovel.  Dig, dig, dig.  Sweat, cuss, bugger.  It’s not coming out.  I’d better phone rally control.  Ooops – apparently that's something else I don't have - it's with Sheila.  Bugger.  Oh well, the sweep team will be along in a minute, I’m on rally route, I have plenty of water so I make myself comfortable in the shade of my stricken steed.  I’m 3.2km from the bivvy, and the rule is ‘stay with your car’.  And anyway I don’t fancy the walk.

Some time later that day, some bloke passes by in a Wrangler who kindly gives me a pull off the dune.  Hurrah!  What a nice bloke.  Now what to do?  Head down rally route to the finish?  No, it’s a long way and I’ve DNF’d anyway, so no point.  Head back contra-rally-route?  That’s a bit dodgy, I’ll probably run slap bang into the sweep team – assuming there is one.  Sod it, I’ll just navigate straight line back to the bivvy.  

I’m 1.8km short of it when I get the bloody thing stuck again!  What a plonker!

Now, to heck with the rules.  I’ll walk.  I have water, I have a GPS and the exercise is good for me.  (Well, so it may be, but it’s not so good for my brand new race boots, which disintegrate half way there.  The soles have come off and are flapping around and  I’m not impressed.) Just as I approach the bivvy, a nice lady in another Wrangler (I’ve decided I like Wranglers) picks me up and takes me the last 250m.

Everyone’s been out looking for me, they have actually found my car (but not the footprints of me leaving it!) and panic is starting to set in as I arrive.  Someone has very kindly picked up and returned my errant sand ladders, Sheila is fit and well, the only damage is to my pride and my points tally. (Oh, and my reputation - I am rightly bollocked for not having a phone with me and causing consternation in rally control.)

But the damage is less than I’d expected.  Mr Cherednikov has apparently not scored any T1 points either.  So I haven’t lost my lead in the T1 class, and although a few more points in the overall championship would have been nice, I’m not in the running to beat the buggy boys to a trophy.

As always, some nice pix of the event courtesy of Tim Ansell - more on www.slrpm.com

EMSF Desert Championship Round 1 - 03/10/2014

I was planning on driving solo when my old mate Ali Mirza – formerly co-driver for Mansour Al Helei – rang up and asked if I wanted a co-driver.  So that was settled, and I met up at scrutineering which the Beast passed with flying colours (hurrah!).

When I reached the start there wasn’t really anywhere to park, so I pulled the trailer onto the sand.  I should have known better - that really was the triumph of hope over experience, and of course I was stuck and so was the trailer.  Wonderful.  And it was hot.  Bloody hot.

 

 

At drivers' briefing there is a respectful minute's silence in memory of  Cameron Waugh, the tragic victim of this year's Desert Challenge. Then we’re off, second car, 30 seconds behind Mark Powell, following a different course from the 90-odd bikes.  It’s supposed to be marked with triangles, we’re following Mark but there aren’t any triangles…..quick look round….found the route….Marks’s turned round…and now we’re heading on the right direction, and right on Mark’s tail.  Result!

 

Did I mention it was hot?  It was hot.  I made a half-hearted attempt to pass Mark but – well, it was hot.  Then we pass Emil’s Patrol, stuck behind a dune, so that’s at least someone who’s having a worse day than me.  After a couple of laps of the 14km circuit, ( by which time the thermometer has gone from ‘hot’ to ‘sweltering’)  I make a mistake and land heavily, after which the car doesn't seem to be steering properly.  Better stop at service and see if the front axle has fallen off or something.

 

 

Fought my way through a pitlane crowded with people, kids, cars, chairs.  Stopped,  got out, but found nothing obviously untoward.  Got back in and discovered the transfer box had jumped out of 4WD – bugger!  Just wasted 5 minutes, and if my brain hadn’t been completely fried I might have thought of that.

 

So now I’m waaaay behind, no sign of Mark, I’m even behind Mansoor Parol’s ancient yellow Pajero which started behind me - but I’ve lost the will to try and get past because it’s so damned hot.  Will this nightmare never end?  Let’s just try and finish, eh?

Which eventually we do.  I celebrate by sitting slumped limply in some shade, emptying bottles of cold water over my head and down my throat, thinking ‘how the hell do I get the trailer out of the sand?’  Ali tells me we’ve won, silly sod, of course we can’t have won anything (except perhaps the wooden spoon.)

But it turns out that Mark retired just after me when his lady co-driver almost passed out from the heat (did I mention the heat?), Emil got stuck three times, and the Pajero was also a lap of two behind me as well.  So actually all that came in ahead of me were a couple of buggies and Mansour Al Helei (T2).  Which makes Newtrix Racing first in T1!  25 points and a trophy, thank you very much!

Would have been nice to have some pix of the podium, but The Phantom Blogger, who was supposed to be there photographing it, was otherwise engaged at the time, up to his armpits in sand trying to extricate his Disco.  (Then he had to help me retrieve the trailer, it really wasn't his lucky day...)

Anyway, we get to do it all over again on 24^th October, when hopefully the weather will have cooled down a tad (I did mention the heat, didn’t I?) and Sheila will return to the co-driver's seat. 

(Photo credits: Darren Rycroft, Tim Ansell, and someone else)