Project X

[Jakes Louw]

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

 

[Crankshaft]

Jissss thanks for sharing.

 

[Hardy de Kock]

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

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

 

[P.K.]

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

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

 

[Jakes Louw]

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

That explains a lot yes.

 

[Hardy de Kock]

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.

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.

 

[Chantal Burger]

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.

Two of the nicest people you can ever hope to meet.
Pretty clever too.
Thanks Deon and Rayne

 

[NIMMO]

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

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

 

[Beserker]

Looking in from the outside (me as "crew") what stood out was how the adversity created indelible bonds between team members, and the comradery amongst all competitors as a group.

When the common denominator is a passion for bikes and adventure, the "afk@k" cements everything together nicely.

Chatting to Deon, Rayne and others after the event it was obvious that no matter what the final tally was, everybody walked away victorious;
Conquering oneself is sometimes the most difficult, and it does take you to a next level - mentally you are stronger and ready for the next challenge what ever it may be.

Can't wait for the rest

 

[51Mobile]

An amazing ride report of an incredible adventure. Keep writing maestro.

 

[P.K.]

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

Eish, thanks Jean.
Johan Liebenberg same age and still firing on all cylinders.

"DON`T LET THE OLD MAN IN..."

 

[mariomario]

I just randomly clicked on this thread to see what it's about, never having heard of Project X before... My mates and I caught Albie as he ruptured his ligament that day riding out from Die Hel. It happened just out of our eye line as we were having a rest at the workers' houses, but we were there to catch him as he feinted from the pain. Sjo! What a day you guys had! We arrived back at Koedoeskloof after dark, 8pm or so, and I thought to myself that was a long day... Yours though!? Much respect. And further respect for tackling and seemingly surviving this apocalyptical torture test called Project X. Hats. Off.

How is Albie doing by the way? He was gutted that he thought he jeopardised your participation in this challenge. He sommer wanted to get on his bike right there and then and keep riding out! It took some convincing to keep him seated until his lift arrived. Hope he's recovering well.

Ps. Great write up. Really enjoying the read.

 

[bisybackson]

There is tangible excitement for the night ride in the cold night air, and the guys waste no time in setting off. The route is provided for us, and there are no time-based waypoints to chase down - scoring is done purely based on route selection. There is no rush. We choose to wait for the pack to clear and the dust to settle, before setting off just ahead of the marshalls’ Land Cruiser.

The road is relatively good at first, but in places it turns into a sandy funnel with half metre high walls. It’s corrugated but not too bad. The 5 minute nap did me a world of good - I feel comfortable and relaxed, but I also know I’m going to need to work a bit once we descend Helskloof towards the river, so I’m glad to be saving energy now. Also, I have a secret weapon in store, for later…

Sooner than expected, the first leg of the route is over and shortly after 10pm we arrive at the first stop, where the road forks left to Eksteenfontein and right to Lekkersing. Speaking of Lekkersing, we roll up to the festive gathering there to joyous cheers and applause from Chantal, Leigh Ann and what sounded like a troupe (hoard? gaggle?) of cheerleaders… I’m not sure whether they had pom-poms and all that but it sure sounded like it. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and I’m sure the sports psychologists among us can better explain what an incredible effect this has on one’s stamina, morale, energy and general vibe.

There’s a substantial fire to fend off the cold, music playing, and freshly brewed coffee served in nice paper cups. Clinton is tending a grill with boeries and it smells so good. Look, it’s vibing, and it’s tempting to stick around and party, instead of facing the second leg - a familiar stretch to Eksteenfontein and then down Helskloof. After another cuppa and a couple of boeries, we spend a good while chatting to the guys about the experience as they come and go. It seems night riding is everyone’s new favourite thing. The auxiliary lighting installed by the guys in the Light class by all accounts have worked well. My own bike’s stock headlight and spots do the job too. It’s certainly much better than the dim candle I had riding out of Die Hel that time.

Just after 11pm, we decided to set off for the final leg back to base. Guy’s teammate, Lutz, had some trouble with the suspension on his DesertX (which appeared to give Jaco some pause as well when he rode it onward), so Lutz decided to ride shotgun in the Cruiser, and Guy opted to join Rayne and me. Rayne led off and I rode sweep, with Guy making up the meat in the Desert Rats sandwich. We stayed within comms range of Rayne in the lead, but well out of his dust.

I rode right up next to Guy, he on the left and me tucked just behind him on the right, with the combined headlight output from our two BMWs making for good visibility. We kept good pace through the twisty, sandy road. Guy lost it once or twice in the deep sections, but I managed to anticipate those obstacles and stayed clear of him, for the most part. One time I ended up in the left of the two spoors, behind Guy, and he came off in a deep funnel. I guess I was going about 40km/h and instead of stopping, I pushed down hard on the right peg and attempted to cross over to the right hand spoor, to avoid crashing into Guy, but the wall of the funnel was too high and the bike just wouldn’t climb out in time. A second later I had brief visions of my front wheel climbing up Guy’s right leg, which was now a mere metre away from all this indiscriminate momentum, so in a panic I just dumped the bike to the right and came to an abrupt, but fortunately quite soft, halt in the soft sand.

I wish I had taken a photo of the scene before we both righted our bikes - lying in the sand in a perfect butterfly formation, wheel to wheel. Not touching, but quite close. I just started to laugh at the ridiculous arrangement lying there, but soon realised we're obstructing all of the passage. When I stopped laughing enough to talk, I helped Guy with monkey lifting his F900 - a trick that turned out to be a novelty for him. Not the easiest bike to perform said trick on, since there isn’t much to hold onto with the enduro-style tail. He assisted me similarly, and we pushed on.

Around midnight, I caught up to the gang waiting at the paved intersection in Eksteenfontein where we turn to base, sipping, snacking, chatting. Zander is there, and we chat for a while about his ancient, mostly stock Africa Twin, on which he and Jan-Harm on a KTM 790 carved out a seemingly secure second place in the Big Adventure class so far. We learn that he spent his youth riding the dunes in Qatar, which, yeah, of course he did. Suddenly his rally god sand skills make all the sense. A moment after Zander sets off, Jaco arrives on Lutz’s Desert X. He comments on the bike’s peculiar handling, possibly due to setup or tuning, but notes that once you get used to it, it’s rideable. All I’ve learnt in my short off roading career is that small problems with bike fit or setup can have magnified effects, and that it’s a very individual thing, this relationship between man and machine.

As I’m dishing out handsful of Energade gummies to Rayne and Guy, I’m suddenly reminded of my Secret Sauce! My Magic Potion, my Gummiberry Juice! On a whim, I decanted what was left of a big bottle of Bioplus syrup into a small bottle, and shoved that in my hydration pack’s pocket. I knew it would come in handy some time. I down the sweet syrup just before gearing up for the last stretch home, and we push on.

We’ve all been enjoying the surreal strangeness of night riding very much, but Helskloof still lay ahead. My excitement beat out the fatigue, and I find the riding quite relaxed. I decided to ease up on the pace and take in the sights, sounds and sensations of the night. The light plays tricks on your depth perception and it’s hard to gain a sense of orientation and progress, but the familiar landmarks, like a stepped rocky climb (which we are now descending) or the famous “boesmantjies”, or cairns stacked there over the years by those traversing the pass, provide us with some sense of progress.

The batteries in our helmet comms have long since given up for the day, so Rayne and I catch up in the odd spot where we stop. He’s pleased with the auxiliary lighting that he had installed on his AT in preparation for the challenge. The remainder of the route home proceeds without incident, and we roll into base just after 1am.

“Isn’t this the best thing ever, tough?” I ask him as we compare notes on the stint we just completed.

“I think this has awoken something in me,” said Rayne, and I get the sense that he meant it.

In the bar and planning area, we find only a lonely black cat for company. He enjoys the petting, but we soon find ourselves very aware of our tired bodies, and we make off to turn in for the night. I dump my gear in a messy pile, take a quick shower, and turn in. Tomorrow is the time trial, I'm intent on making the best of it, given my performance on Day 2. Fortunately we can sleep in a little bit tomorrow. But right now, I have to just drift off... and then, just as I fell asleep, I fall off a cliff and wake with a violent jolt.

What, this again?! Yes... Jolt! Jolt... FUCK.

Five. Six times. Am I waking Rayne with each stupid, involuntary convulsion? I hope not. At some point, sleep overwhelms the falling sensation and I'm out, finally.