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The first test on our leg is a dune about thirty feet high and with a 45-degree elevation. I look on in mild astonishment as a swarm of Toyota Land Cruisers, Nissan Patrols and the odd Range Rover hurl themselves at the summit, scrabbling over the top in a wave of billowing sand before disappearing entirely. This is the first time I have ever driven in the desert and I quickly seek out a marshall for much needed words of advice and encouragement: “I’d gun it mate if I were you!”
With these words of wisdom ringing in my ears, I line the Armada up at the base of the incline. I’ve got a good run-up, low range 4WD selected and second gear at the ready. The marshall gives me the nod, and I launch the SUV forwards.
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My farcical attempts to get the Nissan in a straight line collapse almost immediately, the feel through the front wheels all but gone and short sharp turns to the steering registering little change. All faith lies with my right foot and the Armada’s hitherto unwavering commitment to uphill dashes. Incredibly, even if a sharp drop in speed as the dune gets steeper temporarily sends my heart into my mouth, the behemoth SUV powers its way over the parapet, the V8 and all 6000revs wailing their determination. Sand clouds blot out rear-visibility, and suddenly all I can see is sky as the dune disappears. I’ve hit the summit. The Armada’s done it.
Good. That’s one down.
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As I bounce along across smaller dunes following the marker flags that plot the route, I survey the surrounding landscape. Plumes of sand are billowing out of the ground for kilometres around as dozens of participants try to free themselves from the desert’s grip. Some are successful. Briefly. Others are forced to wait, rather ashamedly, for rescue trucks.
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Soon the inevitable strikes, and I grind to a halt on one of the larger dunes. The wheels begin to dig in, and I leap off the accelerator, keen not to make the situation worse. I’m stuck.
Mercifully the Armada is at least facing up the dune rather than teetering at an ominously sideways angle. I’m quite keen for my first rescue not to happen within the first half an hour though, so I select reverse, gently squeeze the throttle, and start to turn the front wheels quickly left and right. The idea is to physically move the sand locking the front wheels away in order that power from the 5.6l engine can at least bite rather than digging the SUV in any further. There’s a nerve-wracking wait, but eventually momentum channels its way through, and gravity starts to take hold. The Armada starts to roll. The roll gets quicker, and quicker, and soon I hit the bottom. A heavy sigh of relief escapes through my lips.
