American Woman Motorscene

Camel Trophy: Living Through Hell to get to Heaven

by: Sue Mead

Day One, Lamini. We awake to the fiery heat and sweltering humidity of northern Belize. We prepare our Land Rover Tdi for the 1700-kilometer adventure through Belize, Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras that we are about to embark upon; Jim and Daphne check all of the vehicle's mechanical functions and spare parts, while Erich and I attach storage netting to the interior and find safe stowage for camera gear, daily food and water and other essentials that will not be tied onto the roof Tomorrow, Jim and Daphne will begin the first 30-hour series of physical and mental tasks in this tropical sauna. Erich and I will carry their food and water along with many pounds of camera gear as we record our own and the other 19 team's efforts. We will participate in two tasks that include driving, running, orienteering and navigating skills.

Welcome to Mundo Maya '95, this year's Camel Trophy. It's an event with a 16-year testosterone filled history that's considered "The Olympics of Four-Wheel Drive." Sponsored by Worldwide Brands, Inc., an outdoor clothing and adventure-gear marketer, and Land Rover, the British automaker that specializes in fourwheel-drive vehicles, this highly regarded trek drew over a million and a half applicants from 20 countries around the world. For 40 driver's-seat positions. In addition, two journalists are chosen to represent each of the countries that participate.

Day Five, Tres Bandieros, Belize. Our 33-car convoy set up camp along a jungle track for some three hours sleep after crossing three international frontiers (Belize, Guatemala and Mexico) in less than 12 hours. We explored Rio Azul, a virtually untouched Mayan site with 50-meter high temples. "Be careful not to touch the walls. There's a centipede on the left and a poisonous tarantula on the right," whispered Pedro. Sucking in a deep breath of fortitude, I crouched and headed into the dank, dark tomb. A small light source behind my head directed my slow movement forward over the dirt floor that was littered with pottery shards from a civilization dating to B.C. Suddenly, a warm glow illuminated the red, brown and burnt-umber-colored drawings on the wall in front of me, casting a shadow of the Mayan ancestor that was my guide onto his heritage. For a moment, time stood still. I had been told that few people had ever been lowered into this tomb in this remote corner of Belize near the Mexican border. And, I realized, as the limestone walls were slowly crumbling around us, few ever would.

For the first time in days, my excitement was greater than my fear. Fatigue was replaced by energy. And I opened up to the possibility that not only would I make it, but that I was about to begin an adventure beyond my wildest dreams.

It was Day Five of our 24-day, 1000-mile trip through Central America. Since arriving in Belize City by plane, then next transported by bus and boat to our jumping off point on the New Lagoon River, l had suffered the blistering 127degree temperatures and blanketing 95-percent humidity that left a hive-like heat rash over the majority of my body's protective outer layer. I felt accosted by the screeching howler monkeys and exotic birds whose sounds filled the windless air with a cacophony that thwarted the little sleep to be had in nylon tents in which sweat and moisture pooled into puddles. And, I felt fear at every turn in the lush, tropical jungle that appears benign in travel brochures, yet, in reality, was like being teleported onto the pages of that Maurice Sendak children's book "Things That Bite, Sting and Go Bump in the Night" poisonous, that is!

Mexico. The four of us are paired with the German team to participate in the uncovering and mapping of an ancient Mayan city. Here, we become part of a workforce using machetes and shovels to clear tracks and begin exploratory excavations in an around-the-clock 40hour archeological project that's credited as a year's worth of progress. Our group finds nearly 1000 artifacts (mostly ceramic shards along with several stone tools and a rare intact black vessel) dating from 300 B.C. to 850 A.D.

I had dreamed for four years of a seat on Camel Trophy, known as the most grueling four-wheel-drive adventure on the planet, and had applied last year for a journalist position. However it wasn't until this year that women were allowed to try out for the U.S. team. (Last year, two women from European countries participated for the first time.)

Twelve contenders-eight men and four women from 2000 applicants-were selected to attend the U.S. Trials, held in Grand Junction, Colo., along with a small group of journalist hopefuls At the end of 30 hours of non-stop physical and mental competition in snow, sleet and hail, which included swimming, running, orienteering, rope climbing, knot tying, driving and winching, the field was narrowed to four candidates-one woman and three men. Erich Schlegel, a news photographer from Dallas, Texas, and I were chosen as backseat participants.

I was filled with pride at the, ceremony where it was announced that I had been selected, since I had participated in the trials alongside the candidates, wanting to prove to myself and to my fellow teammates that I was worthy. And I knew that this was just the beginning of a long, hard road that would end some four months and 1700 kilometers later. I also knew that it would challenge my 44-year-old body and adventuresome spirit more than it had ever been challenged. But I was ready to take this on. For myself. As a role model for my daughter, Brooke. And for other women who dream of pushing themselves farther and harder, in their own way and their own places. But especially in places where women previously have been excluded.

In addition to further training in Colorado, the six of us attended the International Trials and Selections in Istanbul, Turkey, in April. Here, more training-which included first aid and survival skills-and another 30 hours of non-stop competition, culminated with the announcement that Daphne Greene, an outdoor adventure consultant from Ross Calif., and Jim Swett, a construction foreman from Lebanon, Conn., would represent the U.S. as competitors. Daphne was selected as one of three female competitors, and I joined two other female journalists that would make up the 80 individuals comprising the 20 national vehicle crews. In addition 13 other vehicles with communications, mechanical and medical support would make up our full convoy of 33 Land Rover Special Edition Discoverys. Six women would join nearly 120 men on an event recorded as one of the world's most challenging venues.

Day 1O. River Ostua, El Salvador. Almost 72 hours ago we broke into small convoys of amature adventures and traveled independently with tests of time-keeping, navigation and communication to reach checkpoints as we bumped along 750 kilometers of rutted back roads with the Russians and Brits. There was little time for sleep. We have come from Flores in the far north over mountain passes to he reunited now as a full convoy on the banks of the River Ostua on the Guatemala/El Salvador border. We are undaunted by the green worms in the river that attach themselves to some of our peers-it's the first bathing in days. The last was in a crocodile-infested lake. Tomorrow, we will attend a ceremony to dedicate a research station funded by Mundo Maya '95 to be used by scientists in the Montecristo National Park, two and a half kilometers above sea level in the mist-couered pines.

The next six weeks were a blur of maintaining my regular automotive journalist work schedule and, at the same time, gearing up for the jungles, thorn forests, treacherous river crossings and mountain highlands of Central America. This included continuing to train at home, on the road and in Colorado; trying out and purchasing clothing, food and equipment; taking a series of shots, oral vaccines and pills designed to ward off a wide variety of Central American maladies; and writing my first will, as a result of signing the "You Might Be Killed or Severely Injured" release forms. Not that anyone has been killed. Injured, yes. But it was clearly the most risk-taking of my wide array of adventures to date. As the mother of a daughter who is now a young woman, I try to model risk tasking as well as responsibility.

Day 12. Above Lake Izabal, Guatemala. Teams cut back dead trees with saws and use pick axes and shovels to construct a road along the Spanish Conquistadors' 450-year-old route where we find stones laid by Cortez and his men. Jim inches our vehicle over the deeply rutted path while Daphne directs him on foot in the blazing sun. It's a painstakingly slow task. The jungle surrounding us is on fire, at times, and smoke burns our eyes. I encounter a masts of biting red ants and now have painfully swollen feet. All of us are covered with heat rash and most of us have experienced some form of water and/or food-borne ilness. We are now used to eating on the run long days and little sleep, and are actually getting stronger everyday. Lake Izabal looms like a cool oasis in the distance.

The most difficult question to answer is the often-asked "What was Camel Trophy like?" Still not well known in the U.S., it's considered to be about cars and competition. In fact, it is. It's about driving a vehicle that's widely considered to offer the world's most advanced four-wheel drive-technology. That's also true. Our "Discos," complete with snorkel-protruding out from the top of the "windscreen" (Brit for windshield)- bull and brush guards, rollcage and winches, came through the bone-jarring, chassis-pounding expedition grinning for more. It's also about intense, multi-sport physical and mental challenge, at the beginning and end of the trip. All of it performed in temperatures most of us suffer to walk around in.

But it's also about a motorcarload of other things. Like traveling with teams from around the world through an amazing part of the world. Like giving back something to the culture you're traveling through, as we did by assisting in the clearing of a recently discovered Mayan site. And about cooperation-often a backseat ingredient in competition. On Camel Trophy, it takes a front seat with the Team Spirit award, which is more coveted than the Competition Award. It's based on the thoughtfulness and competence of the four-person team and voted on by all teams.

Day 16. Frei Bartomole de Las Casas, Guatemala. We set up tents and hammocks under a thatched roof dwelling on the outskirts of town with eight other teams. On our way here, one mountain trail took three hours to travel some 15 kilometers and we are bone-weary from long days trouncing in our Disco. Outside the open-air dwelling, it's pouring. It feels safe within until a radio call informs us that police have alerted other teams camped nearby that guerrillas are patrolling the jungle near us. I worry only momentarily and soon will myself to sleep, for when we awake, we have a punishing 48 hours of driving to Santa Rosa as our next task.

For me, it was also the best and most difficult combined physical and mental challenge of my life. It was about pushing myself harder than I ever dreamed possible. Being part of a team. Being part of a convoy. Exploring the world through Mundo Maya '95.

Day 19, River Mopan. We have bumped and winched along a jungle track to arrive at the "You Made It" ceremony on the River Mopan, where a crowd of hundreds cheered us in. Jim, Daphne, Erich and I lock arms and cheer back with cold beer in our hands. I tear at the sight of the U.S. flag held by our press peers on the shore. The past two days were spent on the Guatemala/Belize border, where Jim and Daphne performed for points in a grueling Special Task on the river and Erich and I performed with other journalists and support crew for fun, team spirit and the amusement of the competitive teams. Jim and Daphne now will begin their final two days and nights of energy-sapping Special Tasks and Erich and I will support them again by carrying food and water and participating in two tasks, along with documenting it all for the work we must do upon returning home.

We're in synch now as a team of four and as a 33-car convoy that has seen and experienced people, places and things we'll remember for the rest of our lives. Two days from now, we will sit and listen to the night sounds of the jungle at the base of a Mayan temple, which will be lit with dancing, colored lights. We now have a more intimate knowledge of this land and its past, but know, as 20 nations gather for the awards ceremony, we represent the future.