Project X

Jakes Louw said:

Can't understand the use of Adv bikes when the terrain clearly needs something lighter............but anyhoo.........

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Hardy de Kock said:

The teams competed in two different classes - Light and Big Adv bikes.
I hope this answers your question….

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P.K. said:

And the Big Adventure class required a larger ball size and a willingness to challenge themselves PROPERLY.

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bisybackson said:

Project X Day 2: Clearly, I have made some bad decisions (final)​

Rayne stretched out in the shade provided by my beached bike, and I hid from the late afternoon sun behind a larger shrub, which is only useful for this purpose during the window of our stay there, while the shadows grew long. We talked a bit and considered our options, and decided to eat what’s left of our snacks. I had a sandwich and some dry wors in my backpack, and offered Rayne some - he accepted the sandwich. I thought I’d make the call to the Project X crew and declare team Desert Rats to be beaten, and hopefully one or both of us could be recovered by 4x4 from the final waypoint. I knew it was just two kilometres to firmer ground. I knew it would probably take 4 hours to get to us, best case. I knew all this, and I still could not see how making it out of here on our own was within the realm of possibility, given our collective state, the time of day, and the relentless terrain. The call had to be made.

The next challenge was how to get the satellite phone from Rayne’s camelbak to me, and the offered sandwich from my camelbak to him. I had a reluctant phone call to make, and he had to eat. There was 5 or 6 metres of distance between us, and I was lying on my back in the sand, with my neck brace supporting my tired head. I didn’t want to get up, I just wanted to lie there a bit. It felt good. It was well after 5pm now, and fortunately it started to cool down. I could throw the sandwich to Rayne - it was secure in a ziplock bag, so it should survive the ballistic delivery without getting ruined in the process, either due to sand or in-flight disassembly. My mother would be ashamed of me, I thought. Besides, getting the phone to me would remain an unsolved problem. We could not risk throwing around an expensive and essential bit of safety equipment in this manner. Besides, I throw like a girl at the best of times - no offence to girls intended.

No, it had to be done, there was no way around it. I would have to get up, walk or crawl over to where Rayne was, and exchange a means of nourishment for a means of communication. After all the effort he had put in, I could not bear the thought of interrupting his rest now, when he really needed it, so I would not let him make the trek. Nothing to it but to do it then.

Okay, think: first step is to sit up from where I was lying. I could probably gain some advantage by throwing my arms forward just as I tense my core; my heavy boots should prevent me from falling backwards again, as long as I keep my legs mostly straight. Once I’m nearly upright I could grab my knees to stabilise. I’ll figure it out from there. Make it count, I think, I have one shot at this - I don’t want to waste any precious energy in a failed attempt at sitting up. Alright, one… two… and up!

Wow, ok. I’m upright, and I don’t feel half as bad as I expected. That wasn’t hard at all. Maybe I wouldn’t have to crawl to Rayne’s position afterall. Encouraged by the early success, I stand up. Too fast! Immediately off balance and dizzy, I stumble for a moment, but I manage to keep it steady and regain composure. I walk over to my bike and I am encouraged by the feeling of energy returning, scant as it was. However, I also know that we’ve been here before, a few times today, and we’ve been through more and worse hell since then. Don’t be fooled, this is false hope. We need to manage risk now, and for that we must stick with our earlier decision. Is this what Hardy meant by “managing fatigue”? I do not share this internal dialogue with Rayne.

Stumbling back to the bush where my backpack and neck brace pillow are, I sit down and open the pack of dry wors. While snacking and drinking liberally, I switch on the satphone and wait for it to boot. Ready for Service. I just dial the last number again, hoping to speak to Hardy with whom I had the initial call, more than two hours and less than 20km ago. It doesn’t ring, and instead goes right to voicemail. He would be moving around, and mobile coverage is sparse, so it’s not unexpected. No problem, I have numbers for most of the crew. Martin’s next. I dial, it rings, someone answers; it’s not Martin. I ask for him, but I’m told that his phone is diverted to this number and that I should try calling him on Whatsapp. I don’t bother to explain that one does not simply call someone on Whatsapp from a satellite phone, but instead proceed to my next target: Stefan. His voicemail answers immediately, I leave one. A couple more calls, at this stage hoping to speak to anyone who might answer, but no luck.

Slightly annoyed now, I take a pause to eat the rest of the dates and nuts while we discuss how we anticipate the evening to play out. I figure that it might make more sense to send text messages, since the double coincidence of stopping to phone right when your target is in mobile coverage, or stationary at the same time with the satellite phone booted, is unlikely. I make a mental note to bring up this point during our briefing the following day. But first we had to get out of here. Fortunately, I added a sachet of Game to my hydration pack over lunch, along with rehydration salts. The cool, sweet liquid and food is comforting. Rayne mentions his concern that he hasn’t phoned home at the usual hour, and that there may be mounting worry back home. Despite his reluctance, I convinced him to make a call from the satphone. It sounds like this has the desired effect of settling nerves, even though it may not have amounted to worry just yet.

The sun has just about set now, and we realise that the light will be fading soon. Even if we could magically replace ourselves to the tar road where we are supposed to refuel at the final waypoint, it’s still a two hour liaison back to base. We would need to push on. Managing fatigue, the mantra keeps repeating in my mind. Is this what it means? If that’s the case, I have failed. Miserably so. Nevertheless, I check the time and note that we have been stationed here for about an hour, and I realise that I feel remarkably well recovered. I don’t want to push Rayne in case he needs a bit more time - maybe it’s a rolling window, and since he hit the wall later in the day, maybe his recovery will also follow later? Or will youth and fitness allow him to recuperate faster? I don’t know how this works, but it probably would, I figured. What I did know was that if I suggested we push on, he’d be up and at it, right there with me, regardless of his own state at the time. So, it didn’t take much further discussion after I mentioned that I felt somewhat rested, and a new reserve of energy might just get us to the bitumen before dark. We should push on. So that’s what we did, and I was astonished at how much better I felt after an hour’s rest. I was tired, but not completely drained, and the cramping was gone too. I knew then that we would be ok. Maybe I had managed fatigue completely by accident.

Rayne has started to nurse a slow puncture on the Africa Twin’s front wheel that day. The planet's surface was now solid enough to support rocks floating on top of it, and these were now in our path once again. I was grateful to meet them there, but the low pressure in Rayne’s front tyre had to be addressed. I pulled up alongside him when he stopped on the left side of the track, in as random a spot as any.

“I just need to air up the front a bit, I’m worried about these sharp rocks,” he said.

“Do you know you’re stopped on a waypoint?”, I asked him. “What?” he said, incredulously.

“Waypoint 14. You’ve stopped right on top of it. Didn’t you know?”

He didn’t. For whatever reason, Rayne chose waypoint 14 to make a random stop. No distinguishing features in the landscape, it’s just a point on the track, and somehow that’s where he chose to stop. Not that it mattered for the competition - it was 6:15pm, and we were way overdue. But maybe his luck, and our luck collectively, have finally turned.

The track remained quite sandy for the last 10 km or so before we finally made it to tar, but it was rideable. Oddly, there is a random toilet lying in the sand next to the track. What’s the deal with that, I wonder. Ejected from an alien ship after a botched abduction? Very odd.

I guess they didn't need it anymore.

We made (relatively) good progress, and got to the bitumen just before dark. We veered right towards waypoint 15 expecting the fuel truck, but they had already gone. We did not know the fate of the other teams - Rayne and I hadn't seen anyone since Eksteenfontein, so it wasn’t clear whether anyone had followed in our wake and were still stuck, or whether we had been last through the hellish sand.

“You know, I suspect the crew have their hands full dealing with some greater emergency. I can’t imagine them being this flippant or disorganised to the extent where the fuel truck is gone and everyone is unreachable”, I say to Rayne. I check my mobile phone (you know, the one that I did not trade for the satellite phone), and I’m surprised to find fairly strong network signal. At 18:50, I fire off a Whatsapp message to Hardy, and make sure that it’s delivered to the network: “BAC Team 3 on the tar on the way to Steinkopf.”

Fortunately our bikes have plenty of fuel range, and we had no concerns to reach Port Nolloth to refuel for the tar road to Steinkopf, and then the N7 back to base. It got cold quickly, and we stopped again to don our dri-macs just as soon as we set off. We agreed earlier to blow past Steinkopf without refuelling and to just get back to base. I was physically tired, but mentally in a good place, especially relative to earlier in the day. The road was quiet, and it was a bit of a push into the wind for most of it. We agreed to maintain 120km/h, Rayne was in the lead. I found the ride quite restful, and by the time we got back to Oewerbos just after 9pm, I felt good. We parked our bikes at the bivvy and walked over to the planning area - I was intent on a parley with the organisers to learn what was going on.

As it turned out, my suspicions were correct. The day had presented several teams with significant challenges, and it turns out the Desert Rats had a comparatively uneventful ride. One of the teams ended up in Alexander Bay via the Orange river, and spent the night in a bed & breakfast there. Another in the Light class had to be salvaged after rolling a rear mousse, and then running out of fuel. The crew did indeed have a few recoveries on their hands, and they were about to head out after us just as we rolled into base - it turned out that Hardy had not yet seen my Whatsapp message at that stage. There is a lesson in comms coordination here, which is another one of those lessons that seem to get unlearned regularly by everybody.

I felt remarkably good, and in good spirits. I still cannot explain why, considering the dire straits we found ourselves in earlier that day. The crew kept dinner warm for us, and after a monster portion of a hearty stew with all the trimmings, and a cold beer, we headed to bed. Tomorrow would be a slow morning - we could sleep in a bit, and prepare for a border crossing in the afternoon. Then that evening, night ride!

Day two of eight was done. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it for another six. As I started to drift off to sleep that night, I woke with a jolt. Almost like that feeling of falling, but not quite. Then again. And again. Maybe five or six times… weird?! Finally, sleep came.

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Hardy de Kock said:

The event format is undeniably challenging and not suited for everyone. Beyond navigating tough terrain, riders face a multitude of physical and mental hurdles. The expectations you and your teammate have for each other, the intricate timed navigation, and the ever-present penalty system that hangs over you throughout the competition, can be incredibly exhausting.

I believe Deon and Rayne made an outstanding team and have great potential for success in 2025. Although they admitted to not being fully prepared, it was truly spectacular to witness how they embraced the challenges. The bond they forged became a source of strength, providing them with the necessary willpower to stay competitive.

Deon and Rayne exhibited a remarkable Yin-Yang dynamic as a team. Whenever one encountered difficulty, the other was there to provide support and pull them through. It was fascinating to witness their development as a cohesive unit. This team explored the entire region, and in the end they discovered they were much tougher than they initially believed.

Legends - and so say all of us.

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P.K. said:

And the Big Adventure class required a larger ball size and a willingness to challenge themselves PROPERLY.

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NIMMO said:

Nothing wrong with your ball size Pete - to do this at your age, I take my hat off to you. Huge respect.

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