Dakar Classic, Through My Lens - Aurélien Vialatte

This article first appeared in The Petrolicious Post 004

My name is Aurélien Vialatte. I’m a French automotive photographer, and for nearly four years now I’ve been the official photographer of a rally raid category that matters deeply to me: Dakar Classic.

I first joined the Dakar between 2017 and 2019 as an official photographer during its South American years, traveling through Argentina, Peru, Chile, and Bolivia. Since 2020, the rally has taken place in Saudi Arabia, where I now follow what I like to call the legends. Not because they are faster than anyone else, but because they are still here, still driving, still answering the call.

The Dakar Classic was created by ASO, the organizer of the Dakar, to run alongside the modern event. It is a different rhythm entirely. To enter, the first requirement is simple: a vehicle more than twenty years old. From there, it must be a model that once competed in the Dakar, or one closely related to that history. While the Classic is less extreme than the modern race, it is still nearly 8,000 kilometers of roads and tracks, sand and stone. Anyone who thinks it is easy only needs to look at the cars at the end of a stage to understand how unforgiving the terrain and the rally truly are.

Among all the vehicles in the Classic, the ones that have fascinated people the longest are the Porsches. For the 2024 edition, a French workshop called Nantes Prestige Auto built two Porsche 959 replicas based on the 964 Carrera 4. They were inspired by the cars driven by Jacky Ickx in the 1985 Dakar. The original cars now sit in the Porsche Museum in Stuttgart, priceless and untouchable.

The day before the start of the rally, I asked Jérémie, who was co driving one of the cars, if it might be possible to photograph the two 959s together in the desert. Of course, he said. One hour before sunset, I told him it was now or never. I climbed into the car with him and we drove out into the sand. I had twenty minutes to make the images. Those are often the moments when the best photographs happen. Improvised, rushed, and completely alive.

Working on the Dakar Classic is not an easy job. Because I work for the organization, I’m paired with an experienced driver in a prepared four wheel drive. Often, they are former Dakar competitors themselves, comfortable with roadbooks and navigation, guiding us to photo locations identified months earlier during reconnaissance. There are always two photographers per vehicle. Compromise is constant. Everyone has different instincts, different ideas of action, landscape, dunes. You live together for nearly twenty days. Trust and understanding are essential.


A typical day begins around four or five in the morning. We drive three or four hundred kilometers to reach the day’s route. We enter the stage one or two hours before the first competitor, who always starts at dawn. Night stages aren’t possible, helicopters can’t fly in the dark. Each photographer chooses one location. It will be the only one of the day.

Then there is silence. Absolute silence. No one for fifty kilometers. And then, in the distance, sound. A V6. A flat six. A diesel six cylinder smoking black. That’s when the magic begins. Finding angles. Managing the low light. Climbing higher. One hundred competitors will pass in front of you. The fastest first, carrying the highest average speeds. At the end, the trucks.

After three or four hours of shooting, we head toward the next bivouac. Photos are edited in the moving car, strapped into a bucket seat with a harness. Night falls. We arrive at the bivouac, upload images in the press room, study the next day’s program with the driver.

Then it’s time to sleep. Sometimes at the bivouac, sometimes ahead on the route in a tent, which can be more restful. The bivouac never sleeps. While drivers rest, mechanics work through the night. Engine checks at three in the morning. Gearboxes and suspensions changed under floodlights. It’s loud. But that’s also Dakar.

For many competitors, the Dakar Classic is not about winning. It’s about finishing. About adventure. About experience.

And for me, as a photographer, the Dakar Classic is not about extreme speed or spectacular dune crossings. It’s a feeling. A shared atmosphere. A family. Everyone talking over coffee at the start, discussing preparation, setup, solutions with competitors who, elsewhere, might be rivals.

Somewhere along the way, that feels like the true spirit of Dakar. Like it was in the eighties and nineties, when exploring distant lands was part of the adventure itself.

Photography by: Aurélien Vialatte