“Blimey, no! Surely not. Jeez! Yes, I’ve crapped myself.” We were camped for the night on farmland about 300 kilometers south of Khartoum, Sudan. We’d ridden there from the U.K. on our scooter and sidecar, and we’d had the most incredible time coming through the desert. It’s a great place to ride because the people are so friendly, and you can camp anywhere. Tonight, a farmer said we could use his land. It was a perfect location, empty and about a mile from the main road. After dark, there was no one around and all we could hear was the sound of singing in the distance. The only other entertainment was the crackling campfire and the billions of stars above. Oh, and the fact that I’d crapped my pants in the middle of the bloody Sudanese desert….
I told Reece, but what deserved a full-blown laugh merely got a snicker. He was also a mess. We’d both come down with a horrific case of food poisoning. The next eight hours were spent going in and out of the tent, digging holes around that poor farmer’s land. It was disgusting.
We woke up feeling completely rundown but decided to get on the road as soon as possible, and began packing. I was outside the tent when Reece crawled out. As he stood up, I saw a shadow flash of something running up his leg. At first I thought it was probably nothing but had to make certain.
“Reece, stay very, very still. There’s a scorpion on the back of your knee.”
“Oh my god! Get it off, get it off, get it off!” Reece pleaded.
I grabbed the nearest stick and flicked it off. Reece was saved.
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