'Kingdom in the sky' hosts toughest race yet
By James Bowyer

This year's Raid teams must complete a 155-mile trek across water

This "kingdom in the sky" may be well known for its stunningly beautiful mountains and its friendly people, but it will offer little comfort to those competing in what may be the toughest adventure in the Raid's eight-year history.

The 50 international teams descending on Lesotho on January 25 will find themselves within a forbidding and mysterious landscape. Meandering rivers are transformed into lashing whitewater with little notice, while jagged sky-scraping mountains soar above 9,850 feet.

Spectacular thunderstorms are common during summer months, something merciless Raid organizers may have taken into account when they chose to stage the event during the region's wettest season of the year. Perhaps the hostility of this terrain is why the local Basutho people, who understand the ravages of an extreme climate, show such deep respect for nature.

Lightning strikes are a common cause of death and are seen to be the work of the boloi, or witches, the minions of evil. If lightning seeks the life of someone, a Ngaka--learned one--is consulted to appease the unpredictable forces of nature. These are highly respected members of the community armed at an early age with elaborate rituals for pacifying the unforgiving elements.

The weather bureau's forecast for the region predicts storms and unrelenting downpours over the next few weeks. International competitors, with little more than space-age Gore-Tex and sunblock to protect themselves from the wrath of nature, may do well to consult the learned ones before embarking on this expedition.

This year's Raid will be the longest yet. The 430-mile course will include a spine-crunching 56-mile horseback ride, a grueling 100-mile mountain-bike ride, a 155-mile trek across water, and 125 miles of hiking. Some serious rock climbing has been thrown in for good measure, as well as a dose of paragliding.

The route that competitors must navigate will remain unknown until 48 hours before the start of the event. And if anything can be expected from Raid founder, guardian, and organizer Gerard Fusil, it is the unexpected. As a journalist for the French press, he has been seasoned by 20 years of world travel covering major sports events. He pursued the Paris-Dakar race 12 times, navigated the Americas Cup, and paced the heroes of the Tour de France. With an eye for a good story, he disguised himself as a U.S. soldier during the Gulf War to get closer to the action.

It is this same audacious vision that dreamed up the Raid Gauloises. Since he founded the event in New Zealand in 1989, Fusil has overseen every detail of what is widely considered to be the greatest adventure challenge in the world. It is Fusil's taste for the offbeat that has given the Raid its distinct flavor.

Each year the adventure is held in a different part of the world. Last year it was the rivers and glaciers of Patagonia that tested the endurance of the human spirit. The year before, competitors cut their way through the jungles of Malaysia. The exotic locations may change from year to year but the concept has remained the same.

Teams made up of five members each--one of which must be a woman--are given a map of the course, which they must follow with little more than a compass and the will to finish the race. The winning team is the one that reaches the end in the shortest time. Last year's winners took seven days to cross the rivers and glaciers of the Patagonia course.

A lot can go wrong over 430 miles. Supreme fitness may help avoid the hazards of injuries, but body strength alone is no protection against psychological breakdowns caused by fatigue--or the collapse of a team caused by poor teamwork. The heroes of this event must reign supreme over all segments of the human condition.

Why somebody would travel halfway across the world to be beaten black and blue and pay $18,000 for the privilege is a mystery. Perhaps it has something to do with the $80,000 winner-takes-all prize. Or perhaps, as Fusil suggests, it has something to do with the willpower of those who have grown wary of scratching the soft underbelly of modern living, with touching a distant memory of feeling small amid a looming, rugged wilderness of time past.

James Bowyer is a freelance journalist living in Cape Town, South Africa.