Sand, shovels and adrenaline.
Returning the same way? No way! And anyway, could not be done. No fuel for that. And talking about fuel, I emptied my jerry-can (which rests on a foot-peg) and tied it high up so I had more leg room for peddling. I figured I would need it. The guys wished me luck and told me that if I would not be in Fort Ganal at three o’clock they would come after me. (it was noon now.)
I rode out and immediately the narrowness of the track bordered me. Thorny bushed were ripping at my arms. My mirrors were smacking against branches and my bags scraped along bushes and sand-walls which enclosed me on both sides. When I saw the first bad piece coming up I was startled. Slowing down I would never make it. It was a deep trench. Maybe one meter deep and so there was no room for my legs if I wanted to push or peddle. The sides were just to high. In despair I completely opened the throttle and in second gear I literally blasted my way through the sand, the branches, the thorny shrub, and anything which was in my way. I was sure I would rip my tires to shreds, but they surprised me by staying in one piece and by not being punctured by the thorns which were al around me.
There where four bad stretches and all four I blasted through. Sometimes I had to shift down to first gear, but no time to use the clutch. Poor Pam took the beating like the brave lady she is. In between I stopped to let her cool down. She needed it badly. The last part someone had been stuck with a tractor and had put branches in the track. Branches, leaves, and trunks. Anything they could find I guess, and this saved me. It gave the little bit of extra traction I needed. When I would hit one of those branches I would jump forward again to slowly loose my speed against the sucking sand, but I made it. And suddenly, there was Fort Ganal.
They were waiting for me and had some food ready. I needed it. And I needed to rest.