Preface: So, it turns out it’s a lot harder to shoot a motorsport event when you’re taking part in it, as opposed to shadowing the action. Nonetheless, between getting stuck, catching air and coming up with repairs on the fly, I managed to take some photos of my adventure with the Zeus Offroad team.
The Porsche Cayenne is one of the most underrated cars on sale, period.
Though underrated might be the wrong word, as it’s more… misunderstood, than anything else. The Porsche crest on the bonnet of a five-seater would have you believe that it’s a sports car first, family car second, and all-terrain vehicle third. But after my weekend in the United Arab Emirates, I can tell you that’s far from the truth.
I’ve been fortunate enough to explore the Middle East on several occasions, and over the course of my adventures, I’ve made some good friends, including Samy Samir and his off-roading family at Zeus Offroad. From the very first time I joined them in the desert, I was hooked, so you can imagine my answer when I was invited to be part of the team on a two-day rally through Abu Dhabi’s most challenging dunes: the Rahal Desert Crossing (RDC).
After a late-night flight in from Kuwait and a four-hour journey from Zayed International Airport to the campsite, by the start point, I was exhausted. Yet when I opened my eyes the following morning, I was taken aback by the beauty of the Arab sunrise.
We were deep in the heart of Liwa, right on the Saudi Arabian border, in single-digit celsius (40°F) temperatures that would later soar to the mid-30s (95°F) by midday. For now, while packing up, we were enjoying the peace and quiet – broken only by the sound of V8 engines firing up on the surrounding peaks. There are worse backdrops to enjoy a morning coffee against.
The cup of caffeine was also a chance to meet the rest of the team I’d be competing with. This comprised Samy and in-house media man Raymond, Abdul and Kurt in Abdul’s 957 Cayenne Turbo, Ahad and Ray in the red 957 Cayenne S, and Tomasso in his white Cayenne S. I would co-drive and navigate with Samy on the first day, and Tom on the second.
Our early start provided an opportunity to scope out the teams we’d be competing against. It became abundantly clear that we were the underdogs, or outsiders, depending on your point of view. We weren’t just in a dune sea, but in an ocean of American and Japanese metal, with no other European car in sight. Land Cruisers, Prados, Wranglers and Raptors galore, it was evident that Porsche is not the go-to mode of desert transportation in the UAE.
Yet, after some time behind the wheel of Samy’s development car earlier in the week – a 955 Cayenne with a later 957 GTS engine and six-speed manual conversion – I know full well that the Porsches can keep up with the best of them.
Outright speed was not the name of the game, however, because the winner of the RDC would not be the team to finish first. The victor would be the team to hit all of the checkpoints in as short a distance as possible, as there was no direct route between them.
This was made clear during our safety briefing before the start, but that did nothing to stop all of us from putting our foot down when travelling alongside another team. You try telling a group of motorsport enthusiasts with racing numbers on their trucks that they aren’t supposed to race, and see how well that goes.
See, that’s where having a Cayenne comes in handy. All of the cars in our convoy were fitted with Zeus Offroad’s bread-and-butter modifications, including subframe lifts, tie rod reinforcements, bash plates, and cut bumpers for increased approach and departure angles. Most importantly, however, Samy’s in-house developed and tested ‘Zeus Shocks’ suspension system with external reservoirs, and the obligatory off-road tyres.
But the advantage of a Porsche over something truly heavy with a body-on-frame design is its power-to-weight ratio and inherently low centre of gravity. You’ll be familiar with the on-road benefits, such as improved acceleration and less roll through corners, but the advantages translate to the dunes, too. Cresting tall peaks and maintaining extreme angles is far less daunting when your car is less inclined to tip over, while the smooth powerband and prodigious torque of Abdul’s Turbo is handy when building speed for uphill sections.
It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, however, and the relative complexity and fragility of our machines were made apparent on a few occasions. Though Samy’s car is the most heavily modified, OEM part failures are unavoidable – especially on high-performance German machiens from the 2000s.
We chose a particularly tough route over an elevated ridge to save some precious kilometres, but it turned out to be hell on the cars. The three 957s got stuck early on, while Samy and I made good progress scouting ahead until getting buried in powdery sand.
Simultaneously, a fuel hose on top of one of the in-tank pumps snapped its seal, and we lost almost a whole tank of fuel, unable to identify the leak in the deep sand. Tom and I had the idea to wedge the hose in place with some tubing, and it worked, but the trouble was far from over.
Ahad’s and Ray’s Cayenne S was the real problem child, overheating on a regular basis, to the point where we thought it had cooked itself. We had no choice but to leave it behind after losing count of how many stops we’d made, or else we wouldn’t have finished the event and been heavily penalised for the next day’s stage. The six of us in three cars made it to the finish – the sixth team to cross the finish line, after starting second from last. While everyone else set up camp, we jumped into action.
First stop: fuel, as we were running on fumes thanks to the tank we’d lost on the ridgeline. The nearest stop was 45 minutes away, as is the way when you’re in the middle of nowhere, but we regrouped and refuelled, ready to go in and rescue our fourth car.
Yet again, there was a problem. By now it was nightfall, meaning it was pitch black in the desert. We were sleep deprived and physically exhausted, but we weren’t going to leave a man behind. The red Cayenne wasn’t playing ball, though, and even after bringing coolant and fresh oil, temps skyrocketed.
The only solution? Towing it along a desert track we found, in total darkness and at speeds I don’t care to admit, all so that we could get a little bit of sleep that night. My hotel room was the front seat of Tom’s car, in which his jerry can had sprung a leak and dumped out all of its fuel… so I had some pretty vivid dreams that night.
After not enough rest, with not enough coffee and barely enough breakfast, we were ready to tackle the second day. Ahad’s Cayenne had decided to rejoin the party, too, with what turned out to be an airlock that had cleared.
It would be plain sailing, then… or so we thought. The truth is, the second day kicked our collective ass – hard.
Though topographically it seemed as though it would be easier, the desert has a way of lulling you into a false sense of security. We’d make epic progress the prior evening, but we’d run out of luck on day two.
Long stretches of fast desert suddenly gave way to pockets of the softest sand we’d come across yet, with outrageously sharp peaks and drops of over 45m (150ft). The temperature was even higher, too, making the sand unbearable to stand on for any prolonged period of time.
Getting stuck was a given, but the real challenge came with Tom’s car, which was good as gold on the first day. While on our way to rescue Abdul, who came over a blind crest and was stuck at the top of an enormous crater, Tom got caught at the other end and landed hard, shearing his front axle bolts in the process.
We struggled, but eventually managed to recover both cars to the bottom of the pit and assess our options. Sadly, this was around the time that the heat had cooked my camera batteries, as even my spares were totally discharged. Nonetheless, we had a stroke of luck – if you can call it that.
Two of the axle bolts had dropped out clean, while the other four were stuck in the diff casing. After borrowing two bolts from his other axles, Tom managed to get the car going again, at which point we made it to the end, battered, bruised, but undefeated in spirit.
There’s something magical about the desert. I’m a Londoner, born and raised in the city, and the thing I crave most in life is peace and quiet, as well as all-out shenanigans in cars. Neither of those things comes easily where I live.
But the night between rally stages will forever stay with me. Sandwiched in between two days of high-speed driving, high-risk photography, recovering stuck cars, backache from catching air over the dunes, sunburn and borderline dehydration was a sliver of unadulterated peace, looking up at the most incredible starry sky I’d ever seen.
My soul was at peace, content and quiet, surrounded by darkness, desert and a squad of Porsche Cayennes. I’ve still not cleaned all of the sand out of my gear, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
