StevePartridge.com
Trans 333: Mauritania 2001
by Anthony Taylor
When can an event be described as "extreme"? Certainly it must be way beyond marathon distance and include at least one night out. The ability to cope with sleep deprivation is a key element. Ideally, there should be rugged off-road terrain. However one pitches the definition, Trans 333 qualifies in the front rank. It is a 333 kilometre (208 mile) non-stop desert race with a time limit of 4 days 20 hours and 16 check points at intervals averaging 20 kilometres.
The latest running of this event took place between 11th and 16th December 2001 in Mauretania. The man in charge is a tough-looking Frenchman called Alain Gethin. He is reputed to have run from Dakar to Paris (the Rally route in reverse) with minimal support. Although unquestionably a formidable man, Alain lacks genius as an organiser. We had a foretaste of this before we even set eyes on him.
Our instructions were to present ourselves at Marseilles Airport by 2300 hours on Sunday 9th December. We were to connect with a charter plane coming from Paris, flying on to Atar in Mauretania at 0200. We soon learnt that take off had been delayed until 0630. There was no food available at the Airport and we just had to bed down on the hard floor. This did not seem ideal preparation for an event involving up to five nights without proper sleep. Fortunately our group had enjoyed an excellent lunch earlier that Sunday. We didn't know that it was to be our last decent meal before returning to England!
Trans 333 is predominantly a French event. The Administration and the Doc Trotter Medical Team were entirely French as were most of the competitors. However, there was a British contingent of 18 shepherded by James Henderson. James acted as Alain's agent in dealing with the British entry. I had read an article by James about the Trans 333 in Running Fitness Magazine.. He had finished 6th in the 2000 event and was well qualified to look after us. James speaks French well and this was of vital importance. For example, the pre-race briefing was exclusively in French so most of us relied upon James's simultaneous translation.
I faced an ordeal but I did so amongst friends. David Seys, Rory Gilmour, John Downes and Stephen Partridge had been with me in Morocco in 1999 when all of us completed the Marathon des Sables. Steve and I had completed the Jordan Desert Cup together in 2000. Malcolm Croft had come with us on our overnight training run all round the Isle of Wight. We did not expect to see anything of him during the race except his heels at the start. Malcolm is a quality runner and we wondered whether he might be a contender. There were other familiar faces. Alistair and Jeremy had been with us in Jordan. Luke had addressed us at the pre-race meeting in the Yorkshire Grey pub in the West End. He had suffered from severe dehydration at Trans 333 2000 and talked about the importance of maintaining the right electrolite balance. We soon got to know the rest of the Brits. Notable amongst them was 66 year old "Death Valley Jack". He had completed the 135 mile Death Valley event in California no less than 10 times. That entire event is on asphalt in extreme heat. Roraigh and Jamie were doing the event together. In fact they had no choice as they would be tied together by a length of rope. Jamie had lost his sight during Army Service when he was injured by an explosion. He would rely on Roraigh to act as his guide. Shirley had only taken up running a year ago. It was absurd that she should attempt anything as difficult as this so soon. However, she had completed the Marathon des Sables already. James from Northern Ireland was almost as funny as Malcolm. Simon, Celia, Richard and Ian completed the party.
We had been served a couple of bread rolls on the flight to Atar so lunch was on our minds upon arrival. We soon learnt that nothing happened very quickly in Mauretania. We hung around at the landing strip eyeing a fleet of trucks and a lorry identified as our transport. Alain engaged in an increasingly furious discussion with a number of officials. Apparently the officials wanted Alain to exchange hard currency for Ouguiya but he was reluctant. I can't blame him for that as Ouguiya cannot, I suspect, be changed back into any recognised currency. Once you have Ouguiya you're stuck with it. The problem must have been resolved since we boarded the vehicles, which delivered us to a modern hotel. Expectations were high as we filed into the dining area, but they crashed as we saw the fare that awaited us. Each table was laid for four people. We had one small loaf each. On each table there was a pot of red jam and a half pound of butter in its original wrapping. There were tea bags, coffee bags and sugar. Waiters brought metal jugs to each table containing warm water. Tinned milk was available on request. The waiter deftly made incisions on opposite sides of the tin so that it poured. Our disappointment turned to revulsion when we saw the flies. The table was covered with them all waiting for the jam to be opened.
After lunch we were to be driven to Ouadane. The race was due to start there at 1800 the next day (Tuesday). Before we left there was a fight in the hotel car park. Someone had tried to pinch an article through the window of one of the trucks. The truck driver objected strongly since any theft would have reflected on him. One aimed a wild kick. The other picked up a piece of wood. The combatants were held apart by the assembled throng. Whilst we stood by, we became the target for itinerant salesmen. One boy, offering a few bolts of thin cloth, was very persistent. He said he had come all the way from Nouakchott the capital, hundreds of miles away on the coast. I was too polite and he then followed me everywhere under the false impression that I might be a customer.
The convoy departed but went nowhere. We thought our drivers had got lost in Atar. I couldn't see any directional signs by the roadways. Later we realized that none of the vehicles had any petrol. Eventually we joined a queue by a petrol station. Each truck had three large drums loaded on the back. Each of these had to be filled as well as the tank. Documentation authorising each vehicle to be fuelled had to be studied. Eventually our driver lost patience and joined a shorter queue at another petrol station.
Whilst all this was happening we had ample opportunity to inspect Atar. It was an oasis in a vast desert. I expected it to be intensively cultivated. Instead, large parts of it were covered by piles of refuse. Goats wandered at will through the streets eating paper and anything else they could find. The population seemed to be very poor. Mostly they were listless. Young boys sat on flat carts. These were supported on car tyres and hitched to a donkey. Were they waiting to be hired? I saw only three being used. They formed a short procession carrying rough building blocks. Otherwise there was little evidence of commercial activity. Lethargy hung about the place even though it was mid-winter and not very hot. Street urchins congregated around us and stared at us fixedly with expressions of astonished disbelief.
The journey from Atar to Ouadane was over 200 kms. We climbed up a spectacular canyon quite early on. Otherwise the land stretching away on each side of the road was flat, arid and stony with thin patches of trees, bushes and grass. Occasionally we saw herds of goats grazing these vestiges and, more rarely, camels and donkeys. There was not a soul to be seen on the entire journey except an Asian cyclist whom we were to meet on the road again days later. The convoy stopped by one ramshackle dwelling so that a vehicle could be repaired but there was no one visible.
At Ouadane we went to the tourist compound which was a few hundred metres from the village. Inside a surrounding wall, tents and huts were scattered about and we chose our berth for Monday night. This was our last chance to get some uninterrupted sleep before tomorrow evening's start. Prospects of this were shattered when John saw a large, olive green scorpion on the pullover he had placed on his mattress. Simon was quick to put his boot on it but might there not be more? There were anxious discussions, with feigned nonchalance, on the subject of whether scorpion stings were serious enough to prevent a victim from starting the race or whether they might even be fatal. No one really knew the answers to these worrying questions. I consoled myself with the thought that these scorpions were entirely concentrated in a nest underneath John's mattress, which was on the far side of the tent from mine. Normally John laughs easily but I decided not to test his humour by sharing this thought with him.
As if scorpions were not enough, a new problem now loomed. David's snores can be compared to a pneumatic drill in the road immediately outside one's house. Once in a while one can laugh this off but it was vital to get some sleep. My first concern was to ascertain David's choice of tent and then to place myself diametrically opposite on the far side of the compound. What I failed to allow for was David's tendency to sleep out under the stars. No doubt his motive is to avoid converting those who might otherwise share his tent into life-long enemies. Unhappily for me David laid his sleeping bag down immediately outside my tent. I didn't realize this at the time as he was hidden behind a large painted board propped up next to the tent. Although the board hid David, it did nothing to abate the noise of his snoring. Provocatively, he copes with all this by total denial. However, I had brought a dictating machine to record my experiences. I could use this to obtain the conclusive evidence I needed to help David acknowledge and confront his problem. Unfortunately, I was so tired after last night's fiasco at Marseilles that I fell asleep before engaging the machine and not even David's snoring could awaken me.
From 1530 Tuesday I started to keep a record on tape. My thoughts as revealed by the tape become increasingly disjointed and almost incoherent as sleep deprivation and exhaustion take their toll. A transcription from the tape is not feasible. However, the tape is the basis of what follows, supplemented by memory. Any inaccuracies will no doubt be seized upon by the friends who shared these experiences.
Tuesday 1530
We are due to start in one and a half hour's time. The original start time has been brought forward by an hour. This gives us an extra hour of daylight. It will be dark by 1830. I've discovered that Ouadane is very old and is on one of the caravan routes. The brick buildings were single-storied and windowless. There were a few shops. These were hard to find in the absence of indicative signs. We peered into dark interiors where goods were piled higgeldy piggeldy on the shop floor. I went into the village with three of the others earlier today. Almost at once we were surrounded by a large number of children issuing forth from a school. Even before entering the village we were adopted by three adolescents who relentlessly followed us all the way round the village and then back to the encampment, obviously in the hope of some gift. We found their company very irksome. We were not able to communicate with them except by way of a few words of French. They remained uncomfortably close to us, stared at us and generally took possession of us and I must say that I didn't like it at all.A number of the locals have spread out their wares on carpets in the encampment. I haven't seen them make a single sale. A few are also stationed just outside the exit that leads to the toilet and shower block. They can be confident in that position of brisk traffic. People pass to and fro constantly but I doubt whether anyone wants to buy the goods on offer.
Although it's winter now it can get extremely hot between 11 am and 2 pm. Fortunately we're going to be able to make a lot of progress before we're hit by the heat on the first full day.
Much of the last few hours is spent dealing with the drop bags. We are all permitted to have items taken ahead to await us at Check Points (CPs). Most people have chosen to have about four drop bags with torch batteries, medication, changes of clothes, spare shoes and food. I have decided to have a drop bag at all sixteen CPs. Some of them just have a sachet of Gel, a cereal bar and some dried fruit and nuts. This means that I am guaranteed food at every CP. I wasn't totally confident about the food promised by the organiser. If we were at the back of the field it might all be gone.
The drop bag system worked well. All of them turned up in the right place. This meant that a small pack was all I needed. It was sufficient to carry my water system, night clothing, some food, a first aid kit and my head lamp. In my bum bag I kept my camera, my recorder and some food so that these items were readily accessible between CPs.
Alain addressed us this afternoon. We were to receive no map, no route description, no compass bearings. Alain described the route and James briefly translated. I don't think much was lost in translation. Alain seemed much given to philosophising. At one point he said it was an event for "real men not pansies". I trust this remark was not directed at the British contingent. We were as resolute as the rest of the field but less talented.
Tuesday 1700
A motley crowd of locals have assembled to witness the start. They seem genuinely puzzled by our antics. A few more stirring words from Alain and we're away. Nearly everyone is running. We start running in a conservative sort of way, conscious of the enormous distance ahead of us. As we leave the village it gets sandier and the gradient is upwards. It's still quite warm. Now we're walking more than running, and soon we're just walking. I was with John and Rory. We plan to do the whole event together. There are a few like us but most of the field disappears ahead. Jamie and Roraigh go by tethered together but walking purposefully. I comment as they pass that we're now about last. One of them says "That's a good attacking position".2150
We arrived at CP1 (20 kms) at 2125. It had taken us 4 hrs 25 mins to do the first stage. This is rather slow and we fell right to the back of the field. I delayed the party due to a 15 minute stop enforced by an unwise dosage of Syrup of Figs the previous evening. The effects of this had not worn off. David, Steve and Alistair are in the tent with us. The Brits are making the rest of the field look like professional athletes. I'm feeling better and spirits are high. The CP crew is very helpful. We've had no problem route finding. There are red illuminated markers every 500 metres or so. Also the car headlights of the support vehicles are much in evidence. No doubt this will change later when the field spreads out. This will not happen for a while as the first 80 kms is out into the desert for 40 kms and then back to Ouadane. Later on the front runners will come back past us and we shall see how the race is evolving.We left CP1 at 2200. After a while a marshall flagged us down and told us there was an Englishman in trouble in his car. He had been very sick and had been in the car for half an hour. He was now feeling a bit better so could he come on with us. We saw to our astonishment that it was Malcolm in the car looking pretty groggy but he said he was ready to move again. Initially he was close to being his usual cheerful self. He warmed up and removed his fleece. Then we got to a difficult section of soft sand and he visibly wilted. When a medic drove up there was a serious possibility that he might not continue. John had a deep gash on his leg patched up by the medic and this gave Malcolm time to rest and consider whether to go on or not. He had cramps and a headache and was very down. The medic advised he should stop and Malcolm agreed without much further hesitation. He must have felt awful. The rest of us were depressed by Malcolm's fate for some time.
Not long after Malcolm's retirement we saw the first runner coming back from CP2. We applauded and the sole leader acknowledged with a surprisingly high pitched voice. Later we discovered that the leader was a woman. She already had a useful lead.
Wednesday 0200
We arrived at CP2 (40 kms) four hours after leaving CP1. David was with us. Three have dropped out already including Malcolm. Steve and Alistair are here. Alistair seems to have a problem. The British do not appear to be excelling. We are heavily over-populating the rear of the field. Perhaps sand is not our element.0240
We left CP2 and turned back towards Ouadane. Quite soon John realised he'd left his water bottles behind so he had to go back for them. David and Rory went on but I waited. John admits he is not the best of navigators. If left on his own he might wander off-course and never be seen again. We only lost about ten minutes. Someone at the CP had started to come after us with the bottles and met John. In hurrying back to me, John fell badly and grazed an arm and a leg. With the gash as well, his legs looked a mess.The four of us pressed on. We overtook Steve and Alistair who were now with Shirley. Later we caught Ian who had been far ahead of us. He had injured his knee and was limping badly. A thin crescent moon came up in the East. The terrain was mainly sand with the occasional hard section where we could make better speed.
0630
We reached CP3 (originally CP1) (60 kms) in 3 hrs 50 mins. David said he would sleep here for half an hour. There were others sleeping in the tent. We had walked straight past CP3 as it looked like a nomad encampment. A woman chased after us wearing a blanket. She seemed anxious to sell us something. We found her slightly threatening and started to hurry on but she persuaded us that she was a member of the CP crew. John is suffering from cramp in his legs. I demonstrated the remedy I know. This involves the sufferer stretching a leg out and pushing against a hard surface like a wall. If there is no such surface available then someone else can hold the leg and apply pressure to it, making sure it remains straight. It seemed to give John some relief.0715
As we left CP3 it was well past dawn but still cool. The section back to Ouadane was hard as it became very warm and we had had no sleep. It took us 5 hrs 5 mins. Towards the end we feared that we had gone wrong as there was no sign of Ouadane. I began to think that the village was on the other side of a hill we were passing. I was about to suggest we climb up the hill to get a better view when I saw a marker, the first for ages. Shortly afterwards I could see the village. The buildings hardly stand out from the rocky brow of the hill. CP4 was the Auberge where we had spent Monday night. As we approached it John fell back. He had slowed right down and said he was "knackered".1220
On arriving at CP4 (80 kms), Rory said that he wanted to eat, rest 10 minutes and then continue. John, usually compliant, insisted that he had to have a good rest and that he would not be able to leave for a couple of hours at least. So Rory and I had showers, and then ate and rested whilst we waited for the sleeping John to recover. If we could leave at 1500 there would still be 8 hours before the 30 hour deadline for arrival at CP5. Malcolm is here and back to his cheerful self. He looked after us bringing food and drink. He feels better and has decided to spend his time supporting the rest of the British runners. David has arrived and will rest before continuing. Steve will do the same. Now we must walk on roads for 60 kms. I'm feeling good and Rory seems OK. John is not in such good shape but he is highly motivated. It would take a major problem to make him even think about stopping.Whilst waiting at CP4 I had an encounter with about ten Mauretanian youths outside the Toilet Block. It didn't appeal to me enter a cubicle with this crowd loitering outside. I looked at the most forward of the youths and stepped back, inviting him, with an extravagant gesture, to enter the toilet. He seemed puzzled and the crowd fell back. There was no sign of them when I came out. I suppose there is little for them to do except hang around the tourists.
Thursday 0015
We reached CP5 (100 kms) at 2000 having taken 4 hrs 45 mins on the stage. We were three hours inside the deadline. John has stiffened up. We have slept and will soon continue. I find I am next to David in the tent. He made the cut-off but fell ill some way short of CP5. He was accompanied in by a woman doctor. He says he will not go on and pointed out that we still had a distance to do equivalent to the Marathon des Sables. Later I learnt that he recovered and was all set to continue. Before re-starting he had a Gel and fell sick again. He had to pull out after that. Steve will come with us, Alistair having retired.0025
Rory, John and myself, now accompanied by Steve, left CP5 and at first we made good progress. Then Rory started feeling sick. He slowed right down and was walking unsteadily. A medic stopped and asked how we were. Rory said he didn't feel so good but would continue. Shortly afterwards Rory was sick and, when the medic passed by again, Rory decided to retire. He went off in the medic's car. I have no doubt he made the correct decision. He had weakened quite suddenly.The three of us continued and we saw what we thought was the CP's light long before we reached it. The road seemed interminable. At last we arrived at CP6 (120 kms) at 0430. We decided to get some more rest and to sleep if we could.
0740
We are still at CP6. Steve is having his feet patched up. John is very stiff but ready to go. I suggested that he should move on ahead and we would catch up with him.I keep on losing things. I've lost one gaiter and my cutlery. During the stop, my items start getting mixed up with my neighbour's. The lighting is often poor at night so it's not surprising that I'm shedding possessions.
When I arrive at a CP I collect my drop bag, take items out of my rucksack, drink some coffee or whatever the CP crew offer. At each CP there's a sack of small loaves. With the passage of time these are becoming rather hard. By dunking a loaf in the coffee, I am able to eat it almost with enjoyment. There isn't much else to eat so I rely very much on the drop bags..
0820
Steve's feet have been patched up so the two of us set out after John. It took us two hours to catch him. I have developed a blister on the side of my left heel. I put a Compeed on it and it didn't give me much trouble after that.1245
We arrived at CP7 (140 kms). James was here taking a video as we approached. Alistair is also here to give us support. He came up with some weird contraption consisting of the bottom half of a water bottle with a separate top half slotted over the top of it. He said that this was to keep off the flies. I said thanks very much but I didn't see how I could carry it with me. "You birk!" said Alistair, "It's to keep the flies from the pineapple slices which I've saved for you to eat now". I must have been half asleep. The pineapple slices were the best I'd ever had.Simon has been detained at CP7 under suspicion of a thrombosis in his leg. He had passed us with Luke between CPs 4 and 5 going very well. The medics have pulled him out.
1400
We left CP7 and with it the road. We are now following a sandy track. A camel passed us with a rider up. He spoke to us but we couldn't understand each other so he rode on. At this point we were being trailed by Bernard the Breton, the flag of Britanny sticking out of his rucksack. He took a photo of John and myself which he later sent to me in England. At this point Steve had gone on ahead.1830
We arrived at CP8 (160 kms). This is an Auberge. It is here that we have to take a guide with a camel to take us over a section of desert to another Auberge. We booked our camel for 1930. Bernard will share it with us. Our plan is to get some sleep at CP9 where we also get a cooked meal. We'll eat on arrival and then sleep for a few hours. Today we'll have done our scheduled four stages. If we can do the same tomorrow, we can do the remaining three stages on Saturday, finishing on Saturday at midnight. This leaves us with a good margin since the deadline is 1300 on Sunday. We can have major setbacks and still do it.I overheard someone say in CP8 that the next stage should take 3 hours as it was shorter than the average. Things went wrong from the start. We set out with Bernard. Apparently the guide asked what speed we wanted to go and Bernard suggested "doucement". I agreed with that. Even this proved faster than comfortable. We were straining to keep the camel in sight in the darkness ahead of us. This rendered us unable to look down and avoid the numerous rocks on the path against which we repeatedly stubbed our toes. It took us some time to realise that we could dictate the pace from behind since the guide, presumably, would not want to lose us. If he got too far ahead, he would just have to slow down. For what seemed an age we stumbled on behind the camel occasionally struggling over dunes. I became almost hypnotised by the faint white shape of the back of the camel striding without effort over the soft sand. Once in a while the guide would stop and make some observation that we didn't understand. Bernard said the guide didn't speak French so we had no means of communicating with him.
I was under the serious misapprehension that the next CP was in Chinguetti. In fact Chinguetti was 120 kms further on. Without a route description there was no means of checking. Chinguetti is the Seventh Holy City of Islam. It had to be a sizeable place. When we were well into the third hour since leaving CP8, I began to worry that we couldn't see any lights. We had been told that this stage was only 13 kms. When we had done over three hours and still couldn't see any lights we began to lose confidence in the guide. He seemed to be treating us like tourists. Every so often he would stop and tell us something that we couldn't comprehend. He didn't seem to realise that our only concern was to get to CP9 as soon as possible so that we could eat and rest. As we approached the fourth hour we began to despair. The footprints we saw in the sand were our own. We were walking in circles. Was this guide of ours an imbecile or a villain? Perhaps he was being paid by the hour.
After four and a half hours we were in disarray. The event seemed to be over for us. The only question was whether this unspeakable guide would abandon us or remain to lead us ever further from our destination. We stopped to consider what we should do. The guide carried on so that we temporarily lost sight of him. It hardly mattered any more except that we did want to survive this experience. That was as much as we hoped to salvage from our predicament. Somehow we had to communicate with him.
I said to Steve that there was no point in shouting at the man. Maybe he was doing his inadequate best and we would just alienate him. Steve evinced no immediate readiness to address the guide so I tried instead. In my desperation I could only think of showing the man my watch. I indicated on the watch face the time we had started and asked him by gestures to show me the time he expected to arrive at CP9. Blank incomprehension. It looked as if the guide had not seen a watch before. I tried again with no greater success. In the end I did precisely what I had warned Steve not to do. I shouted. I shouldn't have done it but I was overcome by frustration. The guide took a step back with an expression of alarm. I'd made the situation even worse.
Later, as we blundered about on our knees on a particularly high soft sand dune, I couldn't see Steve any more. We had to stick together whatever happened. I shouted out "Steve, where are you?" The reply came out of the darkness - "I'm thinking". If anyone could get us out of this by the application of pure reason it was Steve. I later saw that he had drawn a chart in the sand. This chart depicted such information as we had. So far as I can remember, it showed CP8 where we started, CP9 our destination, Chinguetti near CP9 and the position of the moon in relation to our theoretical line of march. The idea was, I think, to conduct a dialogue with the guide by reference to this chart. The placing of Chinguetti 120 kms out of position would not, I think, have facilitated his purpose.
Suddenly we came across a couple of tethered camels. Miraculously we were outside CP9. I entered and half collapsed into the arms of Malcolm who immediately set about looking after us. We were quickly served a very palatable vegetable stew with boiled rice. What a relief! Two or three hours sleep and we'd be fit to continue.
This stage had taken us 4 hrs 45 mins and we were fortunate. One group was taken by its guide direct to CP10 missing out CP9 altogether!
Friday 0510
Conditions had not been ideal in the tent. Blankets were in short supply so I had to share one with Luke. I met up with the others in the dining room to discuss what we should do. Steve's legs were in a poor state so he needed to stay a while to have them dressed by the medics. John's feet were blistered but he'd had them patched up and was ready to go. We couldn't afford to delay so we wished Steve good luck and emerged refreshed for our next encounter with the desert. It was 0600 and dawn was just breaking.This was the first of a section of three desert stages that would take us to Chinguetti. John and I started briskly and made our way through several nomad encampments. Our early impetus faded but we saw CP10 (200 kms) from far off and reached it at 1120 having taken 5 hrs 20 mins since leaving CP9.
As the day got hotter flies became a problem. Hundreds were hitching a ride sitting on our hats, rucksacks and clothes. Occasionally I took a swipe at John's flies with my hat. They would buzz about him for a while and then re-settle, some of them no doubt transferring to me. Although I killed dozens it never seemed to make any difference to the numbers. If one opened one's mouth, a fly was likely to fly in. I swallowed three.
It is remarkable the difference it makes if one pauses for a few minutes in the shade of one of the leafless trees. It is blissful to rest briefly and enjoy the cool and the faintest of breezes. Even the flies, unsettled by the stop, cannot spoil this. Bernard, ahead of us, is stopping at most trees and resting at each for some time. He seems to be reacting badly to the heat.
At CP10 (200 kms) Alistair did an analysis of what we needed to do to finish within the time limit. If we took seven hours for each stage, including stopping time at each CP, then we would arrive precisely on the time limit (1300 on Sunday). As we rested, Alistair went to the trouble of drawing up a chart with a time-table showing where we had to be and at what time to remain within that schedule. He concluded that we were "on the cusp". Although we had a chance of finishing on time, there was little chance of anyone behind us doing so. John took exception to Alistair's assessment. He thought there was no doubt we would make it. Clearly John was not prepared to consider the alternative.
After resting at CP10 for one hour we set off for CP11 at 1220. This was the CP at which one earned a 222 kms certificate. Steve and James achieved the 222 certificate. Bernard missed it by 3 kms. So far as I know, everyone else who got to this point went on to finish. We reached CP11 at 1745 after 5 hrs 25 mins and rested there for an hour and a half. When we started out from CP11 we could not know that our greatest crisis was lying in wait for us just ahead.
We were to have three bad stages (John would say four) but this was the worst. It was dark when we started. I was wearing my headlamp and concentrated on the illuminated markers that shone red in the reflected light. They were often quite far apart. I also noted that we were walking in the direction of a highly luminous star so I kept my eye on that as well. Presumably we would keep going more or less in one particular direction, but I watched out for any shift since the star would then be off our route. I checked the compass bearing but we did not know what bearing we should be walking on except that it should coincide with the direction of the markers. John's torch had long since proved itself useless so we were dependent on my torch.
All went well for an hour. The driver of a vehicle said we had 15 kms to go to CP12. We were undone by a big gap between the red lights. For a while we just assumed that a light would appear. Eventually we knew this wouldn't happen. We looked down and there were no vehicle tracks or footprints. Also we seemed to have left the wide flat area where the track was. Somehow we had wandered off line into some dunes. It was about 20 minutes since we were on route. I had no idea whether the compass bearing was the right one. In theory if we turned round and walked a bearing 180 degrees different from the original bearing we would get back to where we were. We didn't like the thought of this. We would be losing hard-earned ground and I wasn't sure that it would work. The sensible thing was to stay where we were. We were 20 minutes away from the track. If we kept moving and made a further mistake we could end up still further off with less chance of being found. We sat down on top of a sand dune in the hope that we might see some car headlights in the distance.
John was concerned about the time we might lose if we stopped for any length of time. Strangely I wasn't in the least bit worried about that. We were lost in the desert. If we got out intact that would satisfy me. The event didn't matter at all. We sat on top of the dune. There were nine hours to go before dawn. We weren't properly equipped for staying out at night unless we kept moving. John began to feel the cold. I started to get my survival blanket out. The only way to keep out the cold was for both us to be wrapped up together in the blanket. I wondered whether the blanket was big enough as it was probably designed for just one person.
Suddenly we saw car headlights in the distance. We got up and ran. I hadn't run since the first few minutes of the event and I was amazed how fast I could go. We had to get near enough to the car for it to see us before it passed by. The dune was massive. It seemed to be arranged as a series of giant steps. The going was firm but the car was still far off. We weren't fast enough. The headlights began to recede but at least we knew where the track was so we kept moving in that direction. Within a few minutes another car appeared. This time we attracted its attention and it stopped. When we said we were lost, the driver said we had to follow the vehicle tracks. They all led to Chinguetti.
The problem with this advice was that we had to look down at our feet the whole time. John took my headlamp and held it low down so that he could see the tracks. He was obviously not prepared to lose sight of these tracks again. We had had a bad scare. I had a vision of there being two empty seats on the plane. But the stage wasn't over yet. There seemed to be no end to it. I thought we must be going in circles as the landscape, or what we could see of it, endlessly repeated itself. We always seemed to be inching forward in a giant arena surrounded by dunes. We promised ourselves a good rest at CP12 but there was never any sense that we were getting closer. After an age we found ourselves walking parallel to a proper road with occasional traffic but it wasn't close to the city as we hoped it might be. At last we couldn't go on any further without a rest. I sank down into sand with the consistency of powdery cement mix. I must have fallen asleep on impact. John quickly got cold again and wanted to move but he couldn't wake me. I didn't stir when he spoke so he touched me - no effect. He shook me - still no effect. Was I dead? He then had an inspiration and said "Anthony, there's a car coming!" I got up immediately. Not long after that we came into CP12.
Saturday 0235
Arrival at CP12 (240 kms) anti -climax. After 7 hrs 20 mins out in the desert we wanted cosseting. Where were Malcolm and the others? We discovered later that they were asleep. We just had to cope for ourselves. A robed figure came up and asked if we wanted food. We ordered couscous and tea. Too late I realised that this was not a meal provided free by the organisers. I had to pay and I should have negotiated first. He wanted 150 French Francs but settled for 100. It was delicious. I then relieved myself in a flowerbed before seeking a tent as far away from John as possible so that his snoring wouldn't keep me awake.Apparently I have offended the proprietors of this guest house. It just didn't occur to me that the place had facilities. In any case there was no one around to show me where they were. James Henderson took me to one side the following morning and said that I was the last person he expected to have to talk to in this way. I asked him to pass on my apologies. In mitigation I can only say that my experiences on the preceding stage had reduced me to a state when I could only think of immediate gratification of the most basic needs.
0800
We started again revived by a few hours sleep. We were finished with the desert and faced a long stretch of graded road headed for Atar. We had to make good speed and did so. The stage took us just 3 hrs 50 mins. We were up for it. We really believed that nothing could stop us now. Despite the travails of the last desert stage we were really going to finish after all. In fact we still had a potentially fatal episode ahead of us.Shortly after leaving Chinguetti we met the Chinese cyclist we had seen from the coach on the road to Ouadane. He was very cheerful although we couldn't have much of a conversation. He carried all he needed in panier bags. There was very little for him to see and I wondered what brought him here.
1150
At CP13 (260 kms) we had a fantastic welcome from Rory. He had recovered and now looked after us really well, bringing us anything we needed. It was good to see that the Brits who retired were doing something positive, either helping at CPs or, in David's case, acting as interpreter for the remarkable Polish American woman, Alicia, who led throughout despite a bad fall in the canyon.There was some wispy cloud cover today which kept the heat down. The flies were still terrible. We each retained our personal fly colonies which must, by now, have passed through several generations. Rory told us that there were three Brits about an hour ahead of us - Luke, Shirley and Death Valley Jack.
1250
We set off on another stretch of road. John walked on ahead and I didn't catch him. This stage took 4 hrs 15 mins so we were keeping a good speed. During this stage Alain drove up with Michelle and Alicia. She had finished first in under 65 hours. There was a bad cut and bruising beneath one eye caused by her fall. I was astonished to learn that she had only taken up running in 1996 and was 48 years old. How on earth had she beaten the young and gifted French runners who had experience of this type of event. Alicia warned us about the descent into the canyon. She said it was very rocky and that a torch was essential.CP14 (280 kms) was another British CP manned by Roraigh (a British Army Major) and Jamie. Roraigh was running it energetically and efficiently. Jamie played his pipe. I spoke with Jamie for a while and he asked what tune we would like to be piped out by. Death Valley Jack went out just before us and he left to the strains of Silent Night. I didn't want to pick something outside Jamie's repertoire so he suggested British Grenadier. I agreed but asked him to play at a funereal pace as we were starting out on each stage slowly because of sore feet and stiffness. Luke and Shirley were in the CP briefly after our arrival.
We rested at CP14 from 1705 until 1855. We planned to have a sleep at CP15 before tackling the last 20 km stretch leading to CP16. There would then only be the final 13 kms to the finish. It looked comfortable unless something went wrong.
Jack started out just before us from CP14. He is troubled by his back and lists slightly as he walks. He told us he would definitely finish but was worried that the medics might pull him out. We soon caught up with Jack and stood to discuss the turn-off we had to take to get to the canyon. In doing this we became disorientated and starting walking back towards CP14. Fortunately a car came up quite soon and pointed out that we were going the wrong way.
Soon after we started the descent into canyon my torch bulb failed. It was my last one. We tried to carry on without a torch but the path was rough and there was a precipitous drop over the edge. Also the route was not clear as there were occasional turn-offs and frequent bends. We tried to proceed by using the green luminous light sticks we had to carry on the back of our packs. By holding these close to the ground we thought we might spot the footprints of those ahead of us when the route became difficult to follow. It was hopeless. It was very dark down the side of the canyon and we just couldn't see enough to proceed safely. All we could do was to wait for Jack and rely on his torch. That was far from ideal as he had slowed right down and was not likely to arrive inside the time-limit. When Jack did appear he nobly agreed to give us his spare light bulb. This would have put him into grave difficulty if his own bulb had failed. However, I believe we would have done the same thing if our positions had been reversed.
My own second light bulb had lasted so short a time that I wondered if there was some fault in my torch which shortened the life of the bulb. Our success hung on the thread of a single light bulb that had to last the best part of eight hours. If it failed we would just have to wait for Jack and go at his pace. We continued tensely and at last arrived at CP15 (300 kms) at 0045
Sunday James was at CP15 and gave us coffee. He said he would wake us at 0230 which he did and we started again at 0245. Magali, a French woman photographer who spoke excellent English, came a short way with us and took photos with a flash. We now had a fantastic stage. It felt as if we were on a knife's edge the whole time with the torch problem but the bulb held. We had descended to the canyon floor before the last CP and started to climb again. We now continued to climb and walked along the top of an escarpment although we could see no distance in the dark. We were back to the form of yesterday and took only 4 hrs 15 mins on the stage. We passed two French girls who sang as they walked. Much later, as dawn began to break, we passed Luke and Shirley although they must have started out from CP15 about an hour and a half ahead of us.
0715
We arrived at CP16. Nothing can stop us now. We gave ourselves the luxury of a good rest before starting the last 13 kms at 0835. It was now as hot as it had ever been during the event. We caught the singing French girls and asked them to take photographs with our two cameras. We maintained the brisk pace we had adopted since leaving Chinguetti. We knew the finish was outside Atar and we scanned the parched landscape for signs of a building or tents that might signal the end. Eventually a vehicle came up with James Henderson and members of the British team. Richard Johnson walked with us for a while. He had come in 14= with Celia, the first Brits to finish. Everyone enthusiastically praised our effort and then they drove off to await us at the finish.At the finish there was quite a crowd and we got a rousing reception. John and I came in together hand in hand. We got a hug and a can of soft drink from Alain and hugs and handshakes from everyone we knew, applause from everyone else. We were inside the cut-off by an hour and 40 minutes and our total time was 4 days 18 hours 20 minutes. We collapsed on mattresses in one of the tents and waited for the others to come in. Last of all was Jack. By now he was walking in a most uncomfortable manner twisted round and leaning over on one side. He got a tremendous reception for carrying on to the finish despite his condition.
This encampment is about four hours outside Atar. Last year the finish had been in Atar but some of those finishing at night had felt threatened by the locals in the seedier areas of the town. Once Jack finished transport took us to the hotel where we had had lunch after our arrival.
That Sunday evening there was a dinner in the hotel. While we waited to be served David and I went to the bar to get some soft drinks. Alcohol was not available. The attendant wanted to give us Ouguiya as change although we had paid in French francs. We insisted on having French francs so the attendant called someone else. The new arrival couldn't solve the problem so he had to ask for assistance. By the time the manager joined us the group was overflowing the bar but the problem was no closer to being resolved. In the end David suggested we bought more drinks so that there was no change to worry about. I didn't think this a very satisfactory solution but the only alternative was to walk away from the bar without any drinks at all.
After dinner there was a presentation. Alicia and Jack, the first and the last, both got standing ovations as they went up to receive their certificates, T-shirts and small gifts from Alain. I dozed through the presentation but jumped up when my name was called. John and I came 48= out of about 75 starters. About 54 finished. John had to leave the presentation to have his feet operated on by a Doc Trotter team, his blisters were so bad. Steve told James that he thought the style of the hotel architecture was very Moorish. James replied that he found Guinness very moreish as well.
The event was over but we still couldn't relax. Our plane had been overbooked by 27 seats. We would be competing for places with a party of tourists. The plan was to get up at 5 am, breakfast at 5.30 and then go quickly to the airport to get to the front of the queue for check-in. Next morning we were ready to go but our transport appeared to consist of one taxi. We were losing precious time. For all we knew the other party were also aware of the problem and might arrive at the airport before us. More transport appeared but, when we joined the queue for check-in, it was by no means clear that we were all going to get on the plane. We kept turning round to count the number behind us. So long as there were more than 27 we should be OK. Occasionally an individual without baggage would drift forwards. Were they queue jumping having left their baggage in the care of a friend? It was impossible to control this. As we approached the check-in counter, David warned of an out-flanking movement by those behind us. We spread out in an attempt to avert this. It could affect whether we were on the plane or not. We got our boarding passes but then we were concerned about a couple of the other Brits who were further back in the queue. They were held up at the counter and it looked touch and go. One Frenchman further back became very vociferous. The Brits got their passes on the ground that they had connecting flights in Paris. The unlucky ones had to travel by bus hundreds of miles to Nouakchott, the capital. There they were to get a flight to Paris at midnight on Air Africque. This must have been a nightmare after the rigours of the event.
Out of a field of 75, only 21 failed to finish. Most of these were either ill or injured. Provided one avoided injury and illness it was not too daunting in these conditions to achieve 43 miles a day for the best part of five days. Most of the competitors did much better than that. Four finished in under 70 hours, three between 70 and 80, ten between 80 and 90, fourteen between 90 and a 100, five between 100 and 110, eighteen between 110 and the cut-off time of 116 and finally Jack on 119 hours 36 minutes.
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