Dennis pivots on his heel to walk back to the lead car. I see pair after pair of safety helmets bobbing and weaving together as the drivers go through their starting checklist. I glance around to inspect my two-seat open-air vehicle known as a sand rail, what there is of it. Lacking a roof, windows, doors, fenders or body panels, a sand rail is a high-powdered skeleton, the metal outline of a small sedan with a roll bar on top. With a low center of gravity and high flotation tires, my dune buggy was designed to cross the high sand dunes of Peru’s remote Ica Desert, once a shallow ocean basin now internationally known for its superb dune buggying. I expect this machine will devour Grand Turk. It does.
Our procession of brightly painted buggies decorated in fluorescentlike Easter egg olors—lime green, lemon yellow and fire engine red—leaves the cruise ship dock slowly. We are off on our 90-minute journey the length of Grand Turk and back, a round-trip of 14 miles. We dash down the main highway, careful to drive on the left, following the road rules in this former British possession.

INTO THE WILDS
Making a hard right, we quickly turn onto a wide, bumpy sand road leading to the ocean. Soon we’re streaking through the island’s barren desert terrain like a Roman candle burst. Surrounded by open dunes, the path gradually narrows as high-banked green- and yellow-leafed trees enclose us in a topless tunnel of foliage. I feel ready to test my sand rail’s limits but Dennis wisely maintains a moderate speed so we newbies can gain more confidence and experience.
We stop at the foot of a rocky bluff, leave our helmets behind and trek to the top of Gun Hill, the second highest point on Grand Turk. The fellow ahead of me tells his wife, “Pretty good driving for only driving off-road on a golf cart.” Swatting his arm playfully, she says, “Now you know why my name is Dale. As in Earnhardt?” Gun Hill, only 62 feet high, nonetheless gives us a fine view of several offshore islands. This morning the sun is behind them, making them appear like a group of silhouetted turtle shells, big and small, in an endless glistening pond. Dennis points out one in particular, Gibb’s Cay, a small Atlantic landfall known for a chance to play with wild, free-swimming stingrays in knee-deep water. Sounds like fun, but for now I can’t wait to get back on the road.

CUTTING OUT
Dennis takes off at a blistering speed that leaves the rest of us far behind. We eagerly accept the invitation to catch him. I floor the accelerator, shocked at the dune buggy’s sudden rush. I concentrate on avoiding the clots of dirt and the dust billowing off the high-flotation tires of the vehicle ahead. My arms and clothes grow darker with dirt. But this is an exciting part of the adventure, as close to riding a dirt bike as anything I’ve ever experienced.
Back on the paved main road, we pass a series of landmarks such as Grand Turk’s international airport, with a replica of John Glenn’s Freedom 7 space capsule that landed in the Atlantic near here in February 1962. Just outside of Cockburn Town, capital of the Turks and Caicos Islands, the large Salinas, or salt pans, once used by the islanders to produce sea salt for preserving and pickling, are next in our sights. Entering North Wells on a sand track no sane tour bus driver would attempt, I search the North Creek wetlands for flamingos that often feed with other wading birds.
North Point Lighthouse, our final destination, overlooks North Creek, where some historians believe that Christopher Columbus first landed in the New World. Two short walking trails here offer the chance to explore the area closely, and I can see why Columbus himself might have been intrigued by this rocky point. But now it’s time to go.
Life in the fast lane is so fleeting. With two people to a vehicle, the minimum
age for a dune buggy excursion is 6; drivers must be 18 or older and weigh no more than 250 pounds. Women who are pregnant are not allowed to participate