February 22- Sorry Mom (on two counts)

The first reason I have to apologize to my mother is because she doesn't like it when I participate in dangerous activities. I didn't MEAN to do anything death-defying today...it just sort of happened.

On the very first night we arrived in Mui Ne, our guest house of choice was full. A man on a motorbike touted a different guesthouse to us (he'd get a commission). Tired and lazy, we agreed to stay at his guesthouse. But now, how to get there? The guesthouse was 2km away and we didn't want to haul our bags that distance. We decided to take a taxi. The problem was, there's only one kind of taxi in Mui Ne, and that would be the motorbike taxi. With my suitcase wedged between his legs, and me hanging on to him, my motorbike taxist dropped me off at the guesthouse (the other four arrived in staggered intervals).

I hated the ride. It felt much too dangerous.

So today, when Amanda and Suze rented a motorbike (to drive THEMSELVES), I convinced Lisa that a nice, safe non-motorized bicycle ride would be WAY more fun (and safe...did I say that already?)

Off we headed to see the red sand dunes of Mui Ne (the white dunes are supposed to be prettier but its too far to bike there).

Upon reaching the dunes we immediately spotted the ATV's for rent. I've driven ATV's when I was in elementary school (can I get a rural Nova Scotia YEE-HAW) but not since.

I figured that if I could do it when I was eight years old I could do it now, so we rented the ATV's. I'd like to point out two flaws in my logic.

1. When I was eight I drove on trails (around open fish tanks, but still), not dunes.

2. When I was eight I was not aware of my own mortality.

I knew I was in trouble within the first five seconds.

Lisa and I each had our own ATV and then two men (I suppose they were safety guides) shared another. In order to drive up insanely steep sand dunes, you need to speed towards them as fast as possible.

I was not good at this.

I continuously raced towards these walls of sand, only to find myself slowing, slowing, stopped. And going nowhere. Lisa was a champ and was doing fine, so one tiny, Vietnamese safety guide jumped on my lap, wrapped my arms around his torso (twice, because his torso was so small) and showed me how ATVing on the dunes was supposed to be done.

Well Shit.

It was scarier then the most scary roller coaster ride ever invented. We would CHARGE up cliffs of sand, catching air and riding on two wheels. He would drive right along the edge of these four-story cliffs, while I waited for the edge to crumble and for us to plummet to our deaths. Up another wall we'd roar, only to find ourselves staring down a four-story wall of sand.

It's like that moment at the top of the rollercoaster. That second where you're absolutely still, but you know you're going over the edge and nothing you can do can stop it.

"No!" I shrieked, "Don't go DOWN there! Stop! Stop!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Sand came rushing up past us as we roared down the dune.

I wonder how many foreigners typically scream in his ear? Was I the first?

Eventually we circle back to Lisa.

"I'm done!" I announce dramatically. It's been ten minutes into our hour.

"What?!?, but this is so much fun!", Lisa cries as she guns her engine and zooms into the distance.

"I don't want to do this anymore", I declare firmly to my driver. He looks blankly ahead, then launches us into some sort of suicide doughnut maneuver.

Eventually, I get used to the constant shifting of my stomach from my throat to my toes. I start smiling. I start to enjoy myself. My screams turn from screams of terror to screams of exhilaration.

Its breathtakingly beautiful; the sahara-like dunes that overlook the ocean. It's an awesome sight.

My driver feels y death grip loosening. "You" he grunts as he jumps off the ATV.

"Ok, I can do this", I lecture myself...and get stuck in the sand five metres further on. Running after me, my driver un-sticks me and points me in the right direction.

Quickly, I become this man's worst nightmare, as he chases me over sand dunes, constantly un-sticking me, and/or hopping onto my lap to drive me to somewhere I can handle. During one such short drive he insisted that I wear his baseball cap. Unfortunately, his head was as small as the rest of him, and it immediately blew off my head.

I was getting into it though. I was driving up and down bigger and bigger dunes, and getting stuck less and less.

Finally they thought I was ready to go down a small (maybe 10 foot) 90 degree drop on my own.

I wasn't.

I crept to the edge of the cliff and slowly inched over. So slowly in fact, that my wheels didn't turn at all on my descent, I just ploughed through the sand (which everyone found hilarious).

All in all it was a wicked experience, and I'm glad everyone completely ignored me when I said I wanted to quit.

So sorry mom, for doing a dangerous activity.

Oh yeah...remember how I said I was sorry on two counts? Well...when we got on our ATVs I asked Lisa to carry the digital camera you got me for Christmas last year. She put it in her shoulder bag, which had an unfortunate meeting with her exhaust pipe.

My camera melted.

It is WRECKED.

My driver got the memory stick out, so hopefully my 400+ pictures have survived.

I'm genuinely sorry mom, I really didn't mean to ruin one of the best gifts I've ever been given:(

ps. What were you thinking giving me something so easily destroyed? Have you MET me? :)