Tuesday, October 25, 2005

day one cont...

so i'm feeling totally dominated by this freaking sand, thinking about giving up on the whole damned trip.

there's these two kiwi lads. the other two customers besides me and my two mates. they race motorcross in kiwi land. one is an ex-pat pom, from yorkshire as he became fond of telling us. he's as lean as, kinda reminds me of my uncle, only he's even paler skin than me. he's got a constant supply of roll-yer-owns going. and this other dude, big, red hair and big red moustache.

they come across my two mates who are similarly struggling through the sand. stand up and gas it up they say. my mates take to this like a duck to water, and they pass it on to me. i'm less than an impressive pupil. but it works a lot better. standing up i have better balance. and the only way to survive in this deep fine sand, is to float over the top. you have to keep moving.

but i'm still struggling.

we cruise around some easier tracks, see some wrecks of b2 bombers from world war two, and the wreck of a dc3. all within a few kilometres of the airstrip. then we stop at a wharf at Seisha. Rex Hunt reckons this is the best fishing wharf in Oz apparently. the next few tracks relax me a bit.

then we go back to the camp, and i'm freaked by the sand again. via loyalty beach, and you guessed it, more sand. i'm freaking again and then i come to a water crossing. no-one is in sight and i dunno if i'm meant to go through it, or it's going to be as hard as the sand and i'm gonna disappear forever. so i sit there and get my breath back. fortunately one of the kiwi lads turns up and takes my bike through for me. first he took his bike through then came back. it looked really cool, the water coming off the front wheel was like an upside-down waterfall going up over his head, and he was grinning like a cheshire cat.

back through the last section of sand to the camp and i'm going better than before but i'm tired and struggling. you can't go slow, you've got to go fast, and i screw up a few times and peak out totally. i have to stop and get my pulse rate down, and un-fuck my vision which has turned into complete tunnel vision, focussed a point about 5 feet in front of my front wheel. peripheral vision about 5 inches either side.

and when i say peaking, i don't mean peak performance either. like peak pulse rate. i'm bouncing off my internal rev-limiter, fortunately there's some kind of internal self control that tells me to stop and breathe. this trend fortunately continues. i really do have lucky timing. not to spoil the story though. it's happened to me in the past. when i stop worrying about getting places on time, i kinda am always late, but always arrive just in time, or else i miss the bits i didn't want to do anyway. likewise some little internal control organism has told me to stop (unfortunately not with style) and breathe. so i do.

one of the extremely helpful guides, Jason, stops by me and checks to see if i'm alright. he gives me some pointers and rides away and back to show me how it's done. i get to the end of the sand section in one piece.

a little later and i'm feeling better. but beer does that for you. tomorrow is gonna be a big day...

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