Above: “Whoops. My bad. Can
you just add it to my mini-bar tab?”Augrabies Falls in the Northern
Cape Province. A bit steep
even for Raptor’s rock mode
there’s not exactly a surfeit of power going begging. To recap, it
makes 157kW and 500Nm. Yes, today there will be plenty of WOT.
Starting now. There’s nothing too complicated about the course- the fast, flat section snaking across the dry-lake ‘pan’ is clearly
marked with flags at the apexes, then the climb and plunging
descent of the dunes is very much single-trail, but punctuated
by deep wallows, wash-aways, rock gardens and plenty of stout
vegetation to hit if you go off line.
So I select Baja mode, which allows ample oversteer angle if
the sensors figure you’re in control, and get my WOT on. Yes, more
vigorous acceleration would be welcome, and this leads to my first
rookie error. I dumbly apply a circuit-lapper’s technique of trying
to minimise lost momentum and carry maximum apex speed, but
this is costing me in terms of forcing a wider – okay, messier – line.
“Brake harder for the tighter sections and get it turned in; keep
your line tighter,” Woolridge instructs. “Don’t concentrate on apex
speed. In the fast turns, you’re going well; keep flicking
it very early – even earlier than you’re doing – and keep
your foot deep into it to hold the slide. That’s where
the momentum of the slide will make you quicker than
trying to keep it straight.”
I get that bit, and I’ve never met a bit of extended
oversteer on dirt that I didn’t like, so things are going
fairly well on the flat. But up in the dunes I’m initially
too conservative, and underestimate just how much
punishment the Raptor’s chassis can absorb. Mentally,
I’m in “don’t wreck the vehicle” mode, when I should
actually be in the “try and kill the bastard” zone.
The widening of Raptor’s track (by 150mm), the
Watts-linkage rear end (replacing leaf springs),
and, crucially, the move to the Fox remote-reservoir
dampers that bring extra wheel travel and ground
clearance, all combine to make this thing a proper
masochistic beast over terrain that would cripple a
regular 4x4 ute. It’s not just the ability to mercilessly
belt the front end at big speed into deep washaways,
it’s the rebound control that demands you recalibrate
what’s possible. Even if a standard-sprung ute could
handle the compression impact, its rebound rate would
likely pogo you into the next postcode.
Not here. Calls of, “Good! Good! Stay planted! Keep
the momentum! No brakes needed here!” will be the over-arching
theme from the passenger’s seat, and even for a slow learner like
me, it’s an easy directive to follow. At least until I barrel too hot into
a fast left-hand kink, exactly where the track transitions from hard-
packed gravel to rock. I can’t quite get turn-in grip and go straight-
on under brakes, mowing down a quarter-acre block of scrubby
vegetation and damaging a tyre sidewall on a rock edge. “Not a
problem, that lot needed clearing,” deadpans my instructor as we
limp back for a fresh rear hoop.
Woolridge makes light of my ‘moment’ but it’s a reminder, in case
I needed one, that off-road racing can be every bit as treacherous as
rallying or circuit racing (well, on anything other than a Hermann
Tilke-designed track). Since the Paris Dakar Rally Raid was
first run in 1979, there have been 26 competitor fatalities from
accidents. Okay, 19 were motorcycle riders, but that still leaves six
that were car-related (plus one truck), proof that off-road racing’s
comparatively slower speeds won’t alone save you, if the remaining
circumstances conspire the other way. By comparison, our own
Finke Desert Race has had three fatalities since it started in 1976.
“I count myself as pretty fortunate,” says Woolridge. “Of course
I’ve had some pretty substantial offs, but nothing that’s seriously
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