By Paul C. Sereno
Dune Field, Southern Sahara,
Niger
"Hey, there's sparks
comin'outta
your tailpipe . .
. Now there's flames . . . You,
you better stop!" radioed Andy Gray
from one of the Land Rovers.
I gritted my teeth.
I had to make an instantaneous
decision. If I lost
momentum and stopped, my tires would
sink deep into the dune sand, and
likely the team might never get
the car out. If I
continued, the Land Rover might
catch fire! I eased
up on the accelerator and made a
run for hard ground.
The vehicle I was driving, a 10-year-old
Turbo diesel Land Rover, was actually
the youngest vehicle of the fleet
of four we had managed to transport
to the Sahara. Technically
speaking, it wasn't a "turbo."
That part of the engine had
self-destructed on the last expedition,
leaving the vehicle with about half
its original power. The
ignition, too, has seen better days.
Turning the key doesn't start
the engine. It just
unlocks the steering wheel.
In order to actually start
the vehicle the driver has to flip
a hand-made switch to turn on the
electricity and then push a "start"
button.
I managed to reach
hard ground but the sun was setting.
The team was in the middle
of a dune field, 60 miles from camp.
Luke Mahler, another University
of Chicago student, was our official
"North" that day. With
a global positioning unit, or "GPS,"
in one hand and a 30-year-old laminated
map unfurled across his lap, Luke
was desperately trying to figure
out where the particular rutted
desert track was headed.
Luke ventured, "This isn't right,
Paul. I mean, we are
miles away from our incoming track
and getting farther." Sweat was
dripping from his chin. Dunes
had never looked so menacing.
Night had fallen, but moonlight
was giving us a slim last chance.
The team discussed the situation
and made a decision: we would leave
the track we'd been following and
cross open desert in hopes of finding
another way out...continued
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