six hours, in the dark. We sipped the
beer and laughed; the adventure was
taking another turn.
The Simpson Desert is a unique
place, even more so in the dark. All
sense of time and space disappear,
headlights contort the dunes into
grotesque shapes, rarely do the lights
shine straight ahead, a brightly lit
wall of red sand or nothing at all
become the norm. At 10 kilometres
per hour the going was tough, what
must it be like for a rider, with a dim
motorcycle headlight and still hours
to go?
The question was answered almost
immediately. A rider was sat track-
side, exhausted, head in hands. His
riding buddy had been sent on ahead,
it seemed this rider was done. We
prepared to pick him up and take him
to the first day camp when he an-
nounced he was going to continue.
“Are you sure?” we asked in unison.
“Yes,” his voice trembled. “I need
to make it to the end, then I can de-
cide what to do.”
It was an admirable sentiment.
He was exhausted beyond belief and
suggested he ride for five kilometres
then rest for five minutes; his eyes
betrayed his sentiments.
Matt rode on, we took up the slow
speed chase. Within an hour we’d
caught him, the exhaustion was
taking an extreme toll, he was deter-
TRAVERSE 20
mined to continue. We decided that
he would ride at a reduce pace so that
we could keep up, especially as we
took to a salt pan that lay between
dunes. It provided reprieve and
Matt was able to recoup some of his
strength.
The track across the pan ended
as it turned right and back into the
dunes. Matt’s bike headed up and
soon became bogged down, immedi-
ately sapping the rider of his last re-
maining strength. His ride was done.
The bike was set aside the track
while the rider climbed into one of
the vehicles, his eyes again betraying
his true feelings. Nothing was said,
we all felt his anguish … images like