From my Journal - 10th July, 2010
Our afternoon track had us heading south 14.5 kilometres and across a few dunes to reach the McLarty Hills. The first few dunes were OK. As I mentioned earlier, the rain had worked too our advantage helping to bind the sand more than it would if it had been bone dry. With JW leading we’d get the quads to mount the dune and assess conditions, not always accurately mind you. From the tail end it was funny to watch the gyrations of the vehicles and trailers as they crested the dunes and negotiated the hummocks on the top. Our choice of direction was also fortuitous as the approaches to the dunes from the northern side were a bit more friendly than the sharp drop offs we encountered on the southern sides. I had one “expletive” moment when cresting a dune under power and finding a split second decision before me. Head butt a hummock of sand where John had hit and hit hard (there were wheel tracks absent for a distance of a metre meaning all three axles had been airborne as they crossed the hill) or duck right and ride the wall of a bowl shape around the obstacle, the route that Scott had taken. This is why his vehicle had appeared to tip at a 45 degree angle there briefly before righting and skewing haphazardly to the left. Trusting in the laws of physics I yelled my war cry of “Fire-truck” (well it sounds the same) and speared right onto the wall of death. Of course I forgot that I had the video on so apologies mum. Time slowed as the vehicle tipped and then righted and before I could even breath I was plunging down the near vertical southern side. Poor Gaby was on the top of the hill and was somewhat awed by both the display of totally unintended skill and the loud expletive. Apparently the look on my face had said it all.
For the full days story, please go to my blogs at the following;