The Dakar: Part two

We stood on top of the dune and wondered what they’d do. If the medic was right, and, given his job, it seemed unlikely he’d be wrong, the Dakar was coming through this place.

But it appeared to be a dead end, the world’s largest, most natural cul-de-sac. The almost all encircling rim of the vast dune made looking down at the desert floor like peering over the edge of an enormous wall of death. Surely they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Could they?

Soon we’d know. The first bike was now both visible and audible, though still a couple of kilometres away, kicking, bucking and sliding its way towards us. We felt sorry for him, the trailblazer, because he’d be first upon this insurmountable obstacle. Others would see the criss-cross tracks he was going to leave in the sand when he realised he’d been led into a dead end, learn from his mistake and find another way.