Sprache wechseln
Scanning the horizon like an indecisive compass, nothing but sand. Cloaked in silence, we’re alone. This is the space we’ve yearned—away from the cacophony of urban streets, the bustle of markets, and the clatter of chaotic workshops. The serenity of untouched landscapes, such as the Swiss Alps or a secluded beach, repeatedly beacon us to quench our thirst for nature. But nothing we’ve experienced before has been quite so mesmerising as our first acquaintance with the desert.
We are Toby and Martina, two Swiss adventurers, and we have embarked on an extensive overland journey. It took several years of preparation before we were ready to leave: we saved our money, bought Olga, our Land Rover Defender, and set about a long list of repairs and conversions, right down to the self-designed interior and electrical concept. We resigned from our secure jobs, terminated our rental agreement, stored our remaining belongings in my mother’s cellar, packed the car and drove toward the rising sun with neither a particular destination in mind nor a time frame.
The very first time we scaled an Iranian dune at sunset, we were taken aback. The view across the endless expanse of peaks and undulations conjured a mixed feeling of respect and awe within us. The image that lay before us, with each dune tip dipped in the hue of the setting sun, cast a spell that left us yearning for more.
We’d barely returned to civilisation before the all too familiar beaconing of the wild echoed in our minds and it didn’t take long before we decided to explore the impressive Dasht-e Lut [“Emptiness Plain”], a vast desert located in the Iranian provinces of Kerman and Sistan-Baluchestan. Renowned for its unusual rock formations and lofty dunes, this desert has made a name for itself because of its unpredictability, incessant high temperatures, and a degree of uncertainty in regard to landmines.
We replenished our groceries, filled the water and diesel tanks, tested and retested our satellite communications and navigation, and informed friends and locals of our planned journey. Without knowing in advance for how long we would be gone, we embarked on an expedition into one of the remotest regions on earth. Our trusty Land Rover carried us along barely discernible tracks as we ventured deep into nature’s most unforgiving realm.
ADVENTURE IN DASCHT-E LUT: EIGHT DAYS OF SECLUSION
Our arrival in the Lut was marked by its fascinating rock formations which soon dissolved into spectacular dunes. For eight days, we drove 600 kilometres through a constantly changing landscape. We climbed dunes and rocks, warmed our souls under the sun, and took countless photographs. Our precautionary stops to reduce tyre pressures, however, didn’t prevent Olga from becoming stranded, and we had to dig her out on a number of occasions
Not a day went by without us having to adapt to the changing surface beneath our wheels: soft sand, gravel, and hard sand. But during those eight days, we didn’t meet or see another soul, not even an animal. Characterised by its silence, seclusion and rugged beauty, this vast expanse of sand imparted a deep inner peace upon us.
Except for one day, that is. A sandstorm picked up and held us captive for 24 hours in a cloud of red sand and dust. Confined to the car without any idea how long it would prevail, there was nothing we could do other than ration our food and water while we waited for this natural phenomenon to pass. Fortunately, after a whole day (and night) of continued buffeting, the darkness gave heed to the light, and the wind subsided enough for us to remove Olga’s thick layer of sand—inside and out—before heading back to civilisation.
Just when we thought our journey was coming to an end, the excitement picked up again: our fuel consumption was higher than expected and it was questionable if our reserves would be adequate. We had to rethink and find a shortcut. However, what looked to be a promising route on the map turned out to be quite the opposite. The track ran across a broad dry river bed with deep, almost impassable, channels that formed large and irregular steps. They were both challenging and exhausting, but we eventually made it through.
Aside from the spectacular geography, our stay in Iran was made special by the people we met. The warm-hearted welcome, their generosity and willingness to interact, was in complete contrast to what the media wants us to believe. Consequently, we met new people and made new friends.
When our two-and-a-half-month stay in Iran came to an end, we were faced with a familiar question: where to next?
In response to the Corona pandemic, many borders were closed and our dream of following the Silk Road was shattered…for the time being, at least. So, we decided to continue exploring the Arabian peninsula and delve into more desert wonders.
THE NEXT ADVENTURE: 1000 KM OFF-ROAD IN RUB’ AL-KHALI
A significant milestone of our overland expedition was crossing the Rub’ al-Khali, the largest sand desert in the world, otherwise known as the Empty Quarter. This desert, which does justice to its name, is one of the most surreal regions in the world, and we wanted to cross it from east to west.
Whilst researching possible routes and identifying vital service points, we discovered a very inviting road that ran along the border between Saudi Arabia, Oman and Jemen in exactly the direction we wanted to take. Optimistic we’d found the ideal route, we set off in search of that road.
A short excursion across the dunes and we, indeed, found what appeared to be a brand new, perfectly intact asphalt road. We couldn’t have been happier because this meant we would cover bigger distances in less time.
However, our euphoria was soon dampened when we were flagged down after a few kilometres and escorted to a military base where we were placed under open arrest. The staff were friendly and looked after us well. We could fill up our tanks, were offered tea, fresh oranges, deep frozen chicken, biscuits and plenty of water. We couldn’t have wished for more, other than to be released so we could continue our journey.
Even after lengthy discussions, they weren’t having any of it. We weren’t allowed to leave. They acknowledged our intent to cross the Rub’ al-Khali, but informed us we hadn’t kept a minimum distance of fifty kilometres to the freshly built road. This was the turning point. Once we understood what we’d done wrong and promised to abide by their regulations, we were escorted back to where we had started.
Not to be undermined by this setback, we scrutinised the maps and chose a new route into the desert further north.
WHERE THERE’S A WILL, THERE’S A WAY: OVERCOMING A TECHNICAL SETBACK
Our adventure could begin (again). Around one thousand kilometres of off-road driving lay before us. No tracks, roads, or fuel stations…just the barrenness of the Empty Quarter.
As much as we loved the feeling of boundless freedom, we couldn’t ignore a certain element of anxiety. It took a big portion of courage to launch ourselves into the unknown. What if something should go wrong? What if one of us got sick? What if Olga got damaged? There were plenty of what-ifs to occupy our minds, but they weren’t about to stop us driving into this next big adventure.
The endless dunes and emptiness continued to enthral us. It was hot and arid. The thermometer pushed its way past 50°C every day, and we did our best to avoid the worst by starting early in the morning, stopping at midday, and continuing anew during the late afternoon.
One day, as we carved our route through the dunes, there was a loud bang. Whereas the dunes had been consistent for a long time and lured us into a less alert frame of mind, the ground had unexpectedly fallen away and we were briefly airborne before making a very hard landing. The heavy jolt dislodged our water canister causing it to empty its precious and much-needed content all over the living space in the back of our car.
Standing, thankfully still upright, in the middle of the desert, we were faced with cleaning up the mess and drawing up a strategy to cope with our loss. As much as the situation was dire and would test our nerves, it couldn’t dampen our enthusiasm. The desert’s rugged charm motivated us to keep going—not that we had any other choice.
Onward. As we penetrated deeper into the desert on our way to the high dunes, the landscape gave us an incomparable feeling of freedom and adventure. Nights in the desert were magical, and we enjoyed the solitude under a canopy of stars as we prepared our evening meals—also including the typically Swiss “rösti.”
The following morning, we were making good progress when a loud, unnerving sound grabbed our attention. We immediately stopped and looked under the car only to find that the front prop shaft had come off the differential and was dangling down. The bolt which held everything together, had snapped and the diff housing was damaged, too. A problem you wouldn’t normally anticipate and certainly one we could have done well without in the middle of the desert. One of the what-ifs had reared its ugly head and we were shaken.
One of the most important things we’d learned whilst travelling was to accept problems for what they are and to focus on solutions. So that’s what we did.
Toby knuckled down and demonstrated once more, just how clever and creative he can be. Using a chisel as a drift, he expelled the broken bolt and replaced it with another from our collection of spare parts. The only problem was, it was shorter than it should have been, but Toby reckoned it would hold long enough to get us out of the dunes, if we stopped and checked to tighten it at regular intervals.
Serendipitously, he was right, and as soon as we were out of the worst of the dunes, he decided to remove the prop shaft altogether and continue in two-wheel drive for the remaining 400 kilometres off road until we reached solid pavement again.
We had to significantly air down the tyres to cope with very soft sand during this stage, which also meant we only made slow progress. It still didn’t stop us having to dig Olga out on numerous occasions which was pretty exhausting, but all part of the adventure. Our determination and improvisation eventually saw us back on solid ground.
BACK TO CIVILISATION: HELP AND HOSPITALITY
Having mastered the Rub’ al-Khali and returned to civilisation, we now had to assess the damage to the car and make repairs. We knew we needed assistance, so we called upon the Defender community in search of someone who could help.
It didn’t take long before we were put in touch with a Land Rover specialist some 700 kilometres away. He was a Brit living in Saudi. Without any further delay, we set off in his direction.
He spent five days helping us with the repairs, looking for parts and teaching us about the Saudi Arabian culture. When we couldn’t find the part we needed, he took the diff of his own Land Rover and fitted it to Olga’s front axle.
We were deeply moved by this incredible gesture and his generosity. It’s moments like these which are difficult to summarise in words, but they just go to show how priceless human bonding and support can be.
Our time in the desert and the acquaintances we made, taught us a great deal. We’ve learned about the loneliness and peace nature has to offer and, at the same time, how a positive attitude in a difficult situation can keep us on track. After all, this wasn’t the first setback we’d had to endure. Our overland journey had already seen us roll the Defender and cope with various complications such as breakdowns, problems with visas, and other salvage scenarios.
Our perseverance and ability to adapt to changing circumstances would prove itself a huge asset as our journey continued. After leaving the Arabian peninsula we crossed to Africa where the desert turned into bush and the Arabian culture made way for the African, filling us with anticipation.
Even though this continent rewarded us with its animal kingdom, cultural highlights, and excellent food, we still had plenty of challenges to overcome. Difficult border crossings, travelling through war zones, continued sagas with the car, and even a spell in an African prison, all kept us on our toes.
Martina’s pregnancy meant we were separated for ten weeks: Toby drove Olga north along Africa’s west coast while Martina began preparing everything for the new family member back home. Three weeks before the birth, we caught up with one another in Morocco and completed the final leg of the homeward journey together.
THE FILM
We’ve started to produce a film about our overland expedition and have launched a crowdfunding campaign to help us bear the costs.
If this travel story has whet your appetite, support our campaign and help bring this informative and inspiring film to fruition.
Thank you for your support: wemakeit.com/projects/travelmovie-keep-going
To learn more about Olga on Tour’s journey, visit their website and follow their adventures on Instagram
