Ich grübel, ob es an mir/meinem Alter/meiner Unerfahrenheit/meinem nicht angemessenem Training liegen kann, dass dieser Unfall passiert ist. Aber ich denke mal, ich sollte mir keine Gedanken machen. Shit happens, auch bei den Profis. Hier zwei Auszüge aus dem Buch "Walk across Australia" von David Mason. Der war 1998 mit drei Kamelen unterwegs, startete am 23.03.1998 in Cape Byron an der Ostküste und erreichte acht Monate später, am 14.11.1998 den westlichsten Punkt von Australien, Steep Point.
Seite 82: ..."At the creek, just before moving up to the Araluen homestead, the camels baulked. Kabul started dancing, or maybe more accurately bouncing, lifting his fore legs and then his hind, trying to buck off the saddle or his fear. Chloe and Kashgar soon followed and I found myself holding a line with three prancing camels. Something had unsettled them but it was not obvious to me. A few minutes later I even had trouble unsaddling them. Perhaps it was the pigs kept in the pen not far from the house." ...
Seite 97/98: ..."I felt more than heard Kashgar take off first, closely followed by Chloe. I turned to look over my left shoulder. I was greeted to a sight not unlike the etching by Dürer, the four horsemen of the apocalypse, only these were camels and there were only three. My mind registered colour. Red, the colour of the interior of the flared nostrils and mouths. White, the colour of eyes, teeth and spittle. Camel terror.
I normally had time to sidestep Kabul when he took off, but he pushed me into the path of Chloe. She knocked me down. I saw Chloe's pad come to my head and I thought of the Ethiopian soldier I had seen, his head crushed by the wheel of a truck, his brains squeezed from his skull and splurted over the dusty road like rotten fruit, his face hanging like a mask over the emptiness. For a moment I thought his fate would be mine.
But Chloe missed my head and in tandem the three galloped 200 meteres down the road. I lay on the dusty track and thought my dream must be over. I was sure I had broken my femur. I could not move my left leg. I imagined the blood spilling into the tissues of my thigh, slowly killing me and my adventure. After a systemic check I tried moving my leg again, and peeling down my trousers I found nothing other than a couple of scratches and some marks on my thighs beginning to manifest themselves into semi-permanent tattoos.
I hauled myself to my feet, tucked in my shirt and checked the cause of the problem. A car. I had not heard it. Nor had Kashgar until it closed right up. What breeze there was came from the west, into our faces. The driver had moved right up close behind us in an effort to get some good video footage." ...
Und auch er, obwohl er schon mehr als ein Viertel der 4000 km Strecke zurück gelegt hatte, muss sich am Riemen reißen und selbst-motivieren.
Seite 99: ......"Both my thighs wanted to seize up during the afternoon and walking was almost impossible. But this was a test, I reminded myself, was it not? Faced with a setback, pain and fear that it might happen again, take precautions that they will not. I told myself I could not afford to be distracted. I had to stop daydreaming. My body hurt so much there were tears in my eyes, but my heart would never let me stop."... 💗