Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Stuck in the Desert #1 3.9.2006
We left Mike and Tuuli in a tiny backwater town called Solitaire, on the fringe of the Namibian desert. The plan was for them to hitch back to the capital while Nate and I attempted to limp back to Windhoek in our badly damaged car. The previous day, we snapped our rear left shock in half, tearing out a huge chunk of the frame in the process. Things did not look good. The closest place with the necessary facilities to begin fixing the car was over 250 kilometers away.
Tuuli and I hitched a ride 30 kilometers to the closest town, found a welder and mended the shock. However, we were warned by the welder that the shock wasn't strong and we wouldn't make it far before it broke again. With no other alternatives, we decided to unload as much weight as possible from the Stingray (including Mike and Tuuli) and attempt a journey over mountainous terrain that we were told we couldn't make.
After 70 uneventful kilometers, the shock broke again. The last remnants of the rusted and battered frame that secures the shock to the car also decided to completely rip apart. Stranded on a lonely road in a beautifully desolate province inhabited by a few white farmers scattered great distances apart, Nate and I wait for help. We can't leave the car, or it will be picked clean by light-fingered scavengers. I am not sure what solution will present itself, but for the meantime there’s nothing to do but sit and hope for the best.
We left Mike and Tuuli in a tiny backwater town called Solitaire, on the fringe of the Namibian desert. The plan was for them to hitch back to the capital while Nate and I attempted to limp back to Windhoek in our badly damaged car. The previous day, we snapped our rear left shock in half, tearing out a huge chunk of the frame in the process. Things did not look good. The closest place with the necessary facilities to begin fixing the car was over 250 kilometers away.
Tuuli and I hitched a ride 30 kilometers to the closest town, found a welder and mended the shock. However, we were warned by the welder that the shock wasn't strong and we wouldn't make it far before it broke again. With no other alternatives, we decided to unload as much weight as possible from the Stingray (including Mike and Tuuli) and attempt a journey over mountainous terrain that we were told we couldn't make.
After 70 uneventful kilometers, the shock broke again. The last remnants of the rusted and battered frame that secures the shock to the car also decided to completely rip apart. Stranded on a lonely road in a beautifully desolate province inhabited by a few white farmers scattered great distances apart, Nate and I wait for help. We can't leave the car, or it will be picked clean by light-fingered scavengers. I am not sure what solution will present itself, but for the meantime there’s nothing to do but sit and hope for the best.
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