"It all comes down to making the fewest mistakes." That's what I reminded myself going into the Tunisia rally. Although I have 17 years of rallying experience, I'd never ridden in Tunisia and I knew that quite a number of things could go wrong during the six days of racing.
Fresh off the Abu Dhabi Desert Challenge, my team-mate James West and I stood first and second, respectively, in the FIM World Rally Championship standings. Hopefully, a solid performance in Tunisia would bring more championship points to the UAE.
The preparation
James and I set off to Tunisia along with KTM mechanic Holger Roth, a veteran with 40 years of rally experience. We would also get support from the KTM factory team, so we were pleased that everything came together to make this a reality. We had to air freight our bikes and extra parts, tools, camping equipment and everything else we would need two weeks in advance. We arrived two days early in Tunisia, specifically to deal with our cargo.
Once at base, I had a full day to consider what might go wrong. Mechanical failure? I wasn't worried about the bike; my KTM 690 Rally is made for this kind of riding. Fitness wasn't a big concern either, as I've had some time on my KTM 530 EXC back in the UAE. What had James and me worried most were the navigational and terrain hazards.
I guess we would just have to wait and see how it goes — anything could happen.
The Prologue
Every Rally has a prologue, or Special Stage, held over a short course where spectators can enjoy the action. Today's prologue was a 6km track on the beach in Tunis. Because it was a sand track, I didn't really bother to walk the entire course. I had plenty of sand experience and wasn't expecting any surprises. Besides, I had fallen in practice the day before and wasn't feeling so well after bruising my chest and breaking a finger on my clutch hand.
Big mistake. The course ended up being quite difficult. The sand and the ruts were extremely deep, with many riders going down — some more than once. An added hazard was the many spectators on the track. The wind had also blown down the markers in several sections. In all, it was more challenging than we had expected and James and I were both glad to have the prologue behind us.
Stage 1: Tunis to Douz
The entire stage was 586km, 180km of that being the "special" or racing stage. That's a lot of time on the bike.
I was right to be worried about navigation. It took James and I several hours to go through the roadbook for this stage, marking changes of direction and potential hazards. By the time we were finished, we were cross-eyed and covered with ink.
The navigation was a challenge for sure, but one hazard that wasn't marked was dust. Just before a 90-degree corner, another rider passed James. In the heavy dust James wasn't able to see the sharp turn, nor did he see a berm right in front of him. He took a heavy fall, breaking one arm and breaking a wrist bone in his other.
To add insult to injury, thick cacti lined the road and James had fallen right into them. Seeing James like that was a harsh reminder of the dangers of rallying, so I rode very cautiously for the remainder of the stage. I finished in 15th position and was just glad to make it through.
The evening was filled with trying to care for James. Unfortunately, he was in a hospital 400km from base, so I had to rely on the organisers to deliver his bags to him and make sure he was receiving good care. Once I had done all I could, it was past midnight and I hadn't even looked at my roadbook for Stage 2. The rally wasn't going to be the same without James.
Stage 2: Douz to Nekrif
We left Douz and headed straight to Nekrif; 289km of racing. I'd marked my roadbook late last night, but I didn't feel as prepared as I would have liked.
It all started out fine, with some soft sand and low dunes. The navigation was tricky with many twists and turns, but the roadbook was well written and it kept me on track. It was going fairly well, until we hit the rocky section.
Rocks, rocks and more rocks. Did I mention the rocks? At one point I felt like I was in an Enduro Race, climbing steps on my KTM 690 Rally. The conditions were challenging and made even more difficult by the fact that I could barely hang on to the handlebars with my broken finger. It was nearly impossible to wrestle a big bike like mine over the terrain, but somehow I managed. I was sticking to my philosophy of "the first thing I need to do is finish" and just tried to take it easy to get back in one piece.
By the time I crossed the line I was finished, literally. My finger was killing me and all I could see when I closed my eyes were rocks. I was shattered, and glad to be done. Once I read the standings, I was very pleased having moved up five places and finished tenth overall.
Stage 3: Nekrif to Nekrif Loop
In Nekrif, things really started to feel like a rally. The 265km loop was again packed with tricky navigation. Once we hit the wide, fast plateaus of the Sahara Desert, it seemed like there were tracks in every direction. Some of them were barely perceptible, and it was a constant effort to keep up with the twists and turns. It was all there in the roadbook, but it's hard to watch the roadbook and the GPS and look where you're going at the same time!
Fortunately, my broken finger was feeling a bit better and I was ready to get started. This loop had everything: sand, dunes, rocks, canyons, fast plateaus… And halfway through the stage what it really had was wind — 30 knots blasting the plains. By the time I reached the finish, conditions were bordering on dangerous and I felt lucky to be across the line.
I came back to a flattened tent and that wasn't the worst of it — everything was full of sand. It was impossible to service the bikes in these conditions, so we were all hoping that it would die down the next day.
Stage 4: Nekrif to Ksar Ghilane
This was the longest racing stage; 280km covering every imaginable terrain. The weather was perfect for riding and I was looking forward to the first real sand stage of the rally.
But, about half way through I dropped the bike and re-injured my broken finger. I was in a lot of pain, and all I could see in front of me were more dunes. It was a challenge to hold on to the handlebars at all, let alone wrestle the bike through dunes like those. I was so glad to see the finish line. Placing seventh overall made it even better. My strategy to keep riding safely and steadily seemed to be paying off.
Stage 5: Ksar Ghilane to Ksar Ghilane
We arrived in a new bivouac after the previous day's stage and the organisers were kind enough to provide local entertainment in the form of Tunisian dancers and a live band. A live band that played until midnight! My broken tent didn't do much to keep out the noise, so sleeping was a challenge.
Stage 5 was 180km of sand. I was riding with my friend Oscar Polli, an experienced rally racer, who had a major crash over one of the dunes. I stopped to help him, and although he was knocked out briefly, fortunately he ended up being OK. I left him with the helicopter crew and carried on alone. It served as another reminder of how dangerous the sport can be, even for an experienced rider. Riding carefully, I finished the stage seventh overall, again… One more to go…
Stage 6: Ksar Ghilane to Douz
This was the final stage of the rally. No surprise, it was another night of late music at the bivouac. Once I'd given my flattened, non-soundproof tent away to a local man, I was ready to get out of there.
I'd come to this rally feeling a lot of pressure to ride well and positively represent the riders of the UAE.
The final stage was 132km, mostly over small dunes and sand tracks. By the time I got to half distance, the conditions had changed there was a full-on sandstorm. It was absolutely miserable and with the sand blowing across the ground it was impossible to see the contours of the dunes.
Then, about 80km into the stage my bike stuttered and died. It had been working flawlessly for the entire rally, so I couldn't believe it would fail now. I checked the fuel. It was fine, so I started the bike again but it just died, again. Then I noticed that the starter switch was loose. It isn't uncommon for these to fail in rally situations, so I was able to quickly cut the wires and essentially hotwire the bike.
While I was busy with this, three more riders stopped and asked if I knew where to go, as they had lost their tracks. They waited for me to finish my wiring project and my bike roared to life — success! Then I flipped my roadbook ahead a couple of pages to find a heading and started leading the group through the desert. I wasn't sure whether I was going the right way, but I had to trust my instincts. I was essentially riding blind and very relieved when I passed over the next waypoint to get back on track!
I was even more relieved to see the finish checkpoint. Mabrouk!
After the most well-deserved shower of my life and a nice meal, it was time for the awards ceremony and the celebrations. I was pleased to have achieved my goal of a top ten finish against the world's best rally racers. I was more pleased to have finished in second place in the Open Production class, earning more points in the FIM World Rally Championship. I also received a trophy for the highest placed competitor riding for the first time in the Tunisia Rally.
I think my result was a testament to the strength of the riding scene in the UAE. I was encouraged by all the SMS and Facebook messages I'd been getting from friends back in the UAE — the riding scene here is a real community, and I was very touched by all of the support I received. It really helped me get through some of those low points.
Coming home
After an early start getting back to the port, the guys there packed up our bikes, cleared them through customs and got us out in record time. Once they saw the big trophy they treated us like champions — maybe I need to carry a trophy everywhere I go.
