ing his life within a handful of years.
A remarkable man with an even more
remarkable outlook on life. This was
the Frontline Safari.
Less than three days earlier we’d
sat at the base of the first sand dune
of the more than 1,100; all running
parallel, covering an area of more
than 176,000 square kilometres.
“Fuck! This is going to be fun,”
Willy grinned, we’d met 15 minutes
earlier. I’d looked at him, did he real-
ly just say that?
Up and over, that first dune about
30 metres in height, was a challenge.
We sat at the bottom, on the western
side, waiting for the bikes to make
their way over. We knew this was
going to be tough for many of the
riders, some would perhaps not make
it to the end.
The bikes roared off into a vast
ocean of sand, waves stretching as far
as the eye could see, one after anoth-
er in a east-west direction. It became
very apparent that the going would be
tough, up and over every one of the
dunes before reaching the end. Willy
giggled like a school kid, I joined in as
we set off after the bikes … somewhat
jealous I wasn’t on a bike myself.
Cresting dune number … oh, who
knows, we’d lost count about a hun-
dred or so ago … we came across a
sight that none of us wanted to see; a
group of riders milling around a rider
that was down.
Ill prepared in many areas; bike,
gear, skill. He’d decided that this
crossing wasn’t for him. It had been
courageous of him to attempt a desert
crossing of this nature, more so to
say, ‘enough was enough’. Many other
riders would continue, perhaps ego
overcoming sensible decision.
We continued with the knowledge
that this rider only had about 40 kilo-
metres to return to the start of the
field of dunes.
As the day drew on a pattern had
established itself; the faster, more
skilled riders raced off ahead. Those
TRAVERSE 18
doing it a little tougher followed, at
times many kilometres, many hours
behind. The support vehicles fol-
lowed, in pairs, as if making our way
to Noah and his oversized fishing
boat. A safety precaution more than
anything, it became apparent that
these military men leave nothing to
chance.
Shadows lengthened, the contrast
between light and dark significant,
an impossibility to see the top of
the dunes, a fallen rider could be in
severe danger. Something crackled
over the radio and before I had a
chance to ask what was said Willy had
replied with, “hell yeah!”
We found a flat area to park the
vehicles and instantly an ice-cold
beer was thrust into my hand, Ant
and Dudge were carrying a portable
fridge of all things. A welcome relief,
we still had around 70 kilometres
to go and as the sun fell below the
horizon, we realised we would be
moving across the dunes for another