The look on Esapekka Lappi’s face was familiar. It’s been there for 70 years.
There’s little to compare with the expression that questions everything that’s going on around the place. The head is asking how it can be possible to navigate such rocks, such roads. The heart is already asking, when can we come back?
It’s Africa. It gets to you.
Standing in the middle of the Great Rift Valley as the sun first peaks above the hills is something quite extraordinary on a human level. To be standing in the same place and see the world’s fastest rally cars warming themselves up for the first stage of the day is something else.
Africa won me over when I first went 21 years ago. There’s a chaos about the place which can be so frustrating, but once you accept things for the way they are, you understand you have to relax into it.
I remember standing and talking with Björn Waldegård about all manner of hire car vexations, internet irritations and cell phone exasperation. He laughed.
“This is Africa. When you come from the plane, you have to change the way you think. You have to think the African way.”
That was then. Today, technology has eased so many of those things. But nothing will ever take away the magic of seeing the wildlife and those booming big African skies for the first time.
“It’s such a special place,” said Lappi. “Honestly, I had in my mind from watching the onboards and the coverage, I thought I knew what it was going to be like – but not like this. This is something incredible.”
It’s what keeps Sébastien Ogier coming back. Africa is so different to what we’re used to in Europe, it redefines one’s way of thinking. Yes, Mont Blanc is special, but to gaze up at Kilimanjaro, while impala munch on the grasses at your feet with oxpeckers feeding off their backs is on another level. Life is just so much bigger in Africa.
It’s that aspect that makes last week so important to the World Rally Championship. For too many years, the WRC’s story ran without this vital chapter. And to those who think Sardinia, México and Greece can represent rough gravel, you’re absolutely right – especially the Acropolis Rally. But nothing can replicate or embody what Kenya brings.
And, yes, there are older rallies in the championship. Monte Carlo was already 42 years old when Eric Cecil finally persuaded the East African Automobile Association (EAAA) to run a modified version of an idea which started out as a road race from Nairobi and around Lake Victoria – interestingly, at the time, the thinking was to allow competitors to go whichever way they wanted. There would be just two controls: one in the capital and one lake side.
All was looking good until somebody pointed out the need to cross the Kagera river. There was only one ferry – not a problem in itself, but what happened if the first driver there then ‘persuaded’ the boat’s captain to take a cruise around the lake for the rest of the day…
Ironically, it was the death of Britain’s King George VI which helped deliver the 1953 event. It’s well documented the then Princess Elizabeth was staying in the Treetops Hotel in Aberdares when news came through of her father’s passing and a subsequent elevated royal role.
The first Safari Rally was sold to the authorities as: “A tribute from the motoring public of East Africa to Her Majesty the Queen on the occasion of her Coronation.”
And so, with sponsorship of £500 from Shell and the same from the leading national newspaper, the East African Standard, and EAAA agreement to Cecil’s plan, one of the world’s finest and most recognizable rallies was born.
You don’t need me to tell you that the idea soon grew legs. No sooner could the Safari Rally walk, it was running and long-distance running. A route of more than 3000 miles became the norm.
But so much other stuff changed: cars became supercars, chase cars and service barges took to the air and the competition intensified. One team tested for a month, another did two months, then Toyota dedicated half a year to living out of Africa.
But so much stayed the same: the welcome, the color, the smells, the smiles. And, of course, the road. Granted, it’s not as long as it once was. But last week was still a true, true test of man and machine.
Gone are the days of purpose-built rocket ships which could drop rock gardens, rivers and ravines in the blink of an eye. Today’s cars are the same as the ones you will see in Estonia next month – and Finland the month after. Having bounced from boulder to boulder last weekend, they’ll dissect planet earth’s fastest stages with scalpel-like precision. With no dip in poise or performance.
DirtFish lifts off from Nairobi with another year’s worth of stories. Stories about Ott Tänak talking to Eliud Kipchoge, one of the most iconic endurance athletes in the history of time; stories of propshafts, punctures, rolling Takas and disappearing tailgates.
The moment is passed in a flash, but the memories of this rally last a lifetime.
And that’s the reason for this story focusing more of the provenance and perseverance of an institution that’s faced down seven decades rather than the nuts and bolts and stage-by-stage of round seven.
In case you hadn’t realized, this rally is bigger than any one person – regardless of how talented they are behind the wheel and regardless of how good their car (inevitably a Toyota in the event’s current era) is.
What does the Safari mean? Let’s reach back and listen in on the words of Cecil himself (via the pages of McKlein’s stunning Safari Rally book): “To compete, because it is the toughest and most glamorous rally in all of the world.
“To say before the event that you hope it rains and there is plenty of mud, but secretly hoping you won’t be affected.
“To feel king for a minute on the start ramp, when the flash bulbs are popping and the TV cameras are whirring and commentators are talking about ‘me’.
“To laugh when you feel like crying.
“To stay awake when you are so tired you can barely think.
“To talk about it for months afterwards.
“To sleep, sleep, sleep and, perchance, to dream of next year’s Safari.”
Well said, Eric.
