There are few sporting events more gruelling than the Dakar Rally. Lasting 16 days and set upon some of the most rugged terrain that Africa has to offer, the race seeks to crush its victims one bone at a time, regardless of whether they're on a motorcycle or in a truck or car.
U.
K. actor and television personality Charley Boorman participated in the 2006 version of the rally, and the fact that he emerged with his faculties and vital signs intact was a definite victory for the adrenaline junkie.
"I cracked some ribs," is how he introduces his injury scorecard.
"I injured my collarbone. I jarred my spine. I broke both hands.
But I still consider myself one of the lucky ones. Honestly, the main objective of this race is merely to stay alive because it's just that intense."
Boorman first gained notice for his biking exploits in 2004 when he starred in the TV documentary Long Way Round alongside his best mate, actor Ewan McGregor.
The pair rode from London to New York on their respective steeds, filming their exploits and raising awareness for UNICEF along the way.
In retrospect, that adventure seemed positively placid compared to the breakneck insanity offered by the Dakar Rally. Once again, Boorman rode alongside a full camera crew and documented the dementia for all to see.
Boorman says the new Race To Dakar DVD, which is now in stores, offers just a small glimpse into the full Dakar experience.
"There were around 600 hours of film recorded for Race To Dakar. Because the happenings on a day-to-day basis were quite unpredictable, it really forced us to film everything.
It introduces a lot more characters and interactions, and these people we met became integral to telling the story of our adventure. There's a lot of crap footage we had to sift through, but when you're forced to condense it down into a short seven hours, it's a real challenge to decide what stays and what goes."
While travelling alongside producer Russ Malkin and a small crew of like-minded nutjobs, Boorman says no efforts were made to keep the content cable-ready.
There was no mugging for the camera and certainly no sly glances or clever quips. The footage shot was raw, gritty and true to the race itself.
"The film crew wasn't a factor for Dakar because if they hold you back, you're done," says Boorman.
"And we knew this going in.
"It was entirely up to them to keep up, as we weren't holding back in any respect at all. Luckily, we struck a deal with the organizer, Amaury Sport Organization, pre-race to have access to all their assets: 10 helicopters, 20 aircraft, 50 doctors and nurses.
Hell, they had 27 film editors and were broadcasting to 37 countries every night. All the best action shots were available to us and we could then use our crew to concentrate on telling the story on a far more personal level."
In the past, races such as the Dakar Rally have drawn resistance from protesters who oppose the concept of ripping up local landscapes and assumedly exploiting the locals left in their wake.
While Boorman concedes there are certain countries that should be off limits for political or sociological reasons, he also points out that the locals seem to enjoy the spectacle of these races as much as those watching at home.
"Especially from North America, the rally gets a lot of opposition from those who think it's a disgrace that we come tearing through these countries and destroying the terrain. That's simply not the case.
In most of the villages we hit, they love it, the sheer madness of it all it's like the circus coming to town. There's an assumed resistance that's just not there, and the locals really enjoy the race as much as anyone else does."
Music plays a large roll in Boorman's adventures, and both Long Way Round and Race To Dakar feature soundtracks packed to the gills with Brit-infused goodness.
The Stereophonics penned the title track to the former, while Boorman's friend Jim Penfold wrote the theme to the latter alongside his backing unit, the Hollywood Killers. U.K.
stalwarts Blur, Massive Attack and Coldplay have also contributed tracks to Boorman productions, and music served as a primary escape mechanism while on the road.
"For Dakar, music and my iPod were really integral for me, especially when I was trying to get some sleep. When you go into the pit area, there were 250 support vehicles and dozens more arriving all through the night.
The routine for sleeping would be grabbing your sleeping bag, finding a free space under a truck somewhere and cranking up the volume until it drowns out everything else.
"KT Tunstall especially was somebody I listened to plenty when I was trying to catch some sleep. I needed some nice melodic, calming music to try and chill out a bit.
When you're only averaging three or four hours of sleep a night, the last thing you want to hear is loud guitars and screaming."
With a doting wife and two young daughters at home, Boorman's adventures effectively thwart any normal home life that he might aspire to have. With his life in the balance at every turn of the handlebars, he concedes his hobbyist bent is a touch selfish and he's fully aware of the strain it causes on his loved ones.
"When I learned that my bike was down and I was out of the Dakar, I immediately went to the hospital because I had broken both my hands," he says while motioning to some nicely calcified scar tissue on his left wrist. "I remember phoning my wife and her being terribly upset.
"It's understandable but, at the same time, I was alive and doing OK, so I figured it would be more of a relief to her than it was.
With the racing, I take a step back now and then and realize the stress that it must put on my family and friends to know that I'm out competing in these types of events. There are people literally dying in front of you and it really makes you wonder how you got involved in such a bizarre activity."
Does this mean Boorman has come to his senses and might soon be hanging up his helmet?
"Not a chance," he says with a grin. "It's way too much fun to stop now.
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