It quickly became apparent that it was going to be a long day in the saddle as stood up on my street style pegs was starting to burn my legs. My wrists were vibrating with each section of off-road terrain partly due to my lack of front suspension. I realised this was going to be less about navigational accuracy for me and more whether my body and bike could cope with two days of physical impact.

On each day there are navigational and technical sections that are designed to challenge even the biggest and most capable of adventure bikes. I had the option to navigate around these obstacles but decided in my own head that I wouldn’t have completed the Rally properly if I didn’t at least give it a go.

The ‘steps’ on day one represented approximately 500m of rocky terrain. To say I was a little nervous at this point would have been an understatement. As I approached the technical section, I felt my pupils dilate and my mind started to sharpen, focusing on a suitable route through the declining steps to ensure I didn’t drop off from any great height. Ride your own race, take your time, set your own pace. Ride your own race, take your time, set your own pace.

Surprisingly, although I did bottom out a few times, the SCR950 continued to eat up the ground and I found myself flying down this technical section with relative ease and confidence. My skills were improving and as I was congratulated by my fellow riders at the end of the section, I found myself growing in stature. After a small water stop to toast my minor victory, I turned the ignition to bring my trusty SCR950 burbling into life again as we felt the pleasant feeling of smooth tarmac for the next section of the ride.

The first day of adventure had some challenging sections which took me around eight hours to complete in total, but the Rally is not won or lost on time. Navigational accuracy, tracked by my GPS big brother transmitter, and points deducted for speeding were the two considerations for both days. My bike was strong and sturdy but slow which for once was working in my favour. My growing confidence on all terrains started to get me thinking that I could do quite well as a newcomer if I kept within my limits and protected the bike.

I came off the bike twice on the first day. Around 200km in to the 300km day, there was a steep slope, covered by trees. After a slightly drizzly morning the rain had come to an end, but this section remained muddy and still wet under the natural cover of the surrounding foliage. I began to creep down the slope but my lack of skills started to show. Using just my front brake the bike started to veer and twist in the mud. Before I knew it the front wheel was sliding, and I came to a halt on my side feeling the full force of my bike on me. I was immediately thankful for my new armoured trousers and proceeded to pick my bike up and dust off my pride. It was a timely reminder that I was very much a beginner in this environment and needed to work within my limited skillset.

The second crash was a little more impactful. The second technical section was externally tricky, rocky, wet, and steep. As the bike bottomed out on the steeper section, I veered off track into the verge, bending my gear lever back on itself. A fellow rider stopped to help me to my feet, and I limped over the finish line feeling a little battered and beaten.

Crossing the first day finishing line, I rode straight to the van to break open the tool kit for some immediate repairs. I managed to get the essentials back in place before heading to dinner and an early night.

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More than the sum of its parts