Today we started early and saw the riders off on what was to be a brutal stage. We get the roadbooks every night at 5pm to begin marking them for hazards and changes. It tells a story that begins to read like a book, and it was clear that today would be almost as tough as yesterday.
I drove with the team boss and other team members today. We stopped at the start of the first special stage and the refuel point after the second special stage, before the liaison stage of around 450km. The road took us through canyons and along a rugged, craggy coastline – very different to the giant dunes and coastline of before. Then into a shale sandy combination, then back to dunes and then into a combination of all of the elements.
I wish I’d payed more attention in geography. The vastness and expanse of this place is impossible to describe, with its tiny little villages, unfinished buildings and restaurants selling local favorites dotted along in totally haphazard fashion.
While it was fantastic to stop at the various points, it meant that I will not be at the next bivouac, where we believe it is raining when David arrives. Peggy (our Journey to Dakar manager) is in another vehicle and will probably not make it on time either. Dakar provides physios and doctors and I’m sure that Dave will make his way there and make use of the facilities.
It is quite impossible not to fall in love with this place. The locals are friendly and enthusiastic and the further we get from densely populated areas, the less evident the litter is and the more beautiful it becomes.
It’s now nightfall and we are still driving. I’ve got word that the big trucks have arrived in the bivouac and that David is still not in. Peggy has arrived safely. It’s 10 degrees at our new camp and the showers are cold. I am very uncomfortable at the thought of our team riders riding this coastal road in the dark. The sheer beauty in the daytime has become a worry and concern by night.
