You Dakhla high road, and I'll Dakhla low road...

The Jap Jeep and the Meatwagon finally arrived at the campsite in Dakhla a little earlier than predicted, just after 1700h, the only minor hiccup being the gearstick coming off in Joe's hand (behave at the back, this is a family show) forcing a quick roadside repair. There is some excitement as apparently they have (whisper it) hot running water for only 10 Dirhams a go and fridges! I know some of the team are from Oxfordshire but surely that shouldn't have been too much of a shock. The cold showers and warm refreshment can now change places.

The ambulance was welcomed warmly by the other teams, most of whom were convinced that the Moroccan Customs Pound was the closest it was ever going to get to the Gambia. On further interrogation of said teams, it turns out that some of them are not going to move on tomorrow, as planned, but the day after (Wed 10 Jan). Since our stoic adventurers have done 931 miles since yesterday morning in two 14 hr stints, the plan now is to identify the group of people who also want to leave on Wed and form a convoy therewith, taking the chance to have a well earned slab of R&R tomorrow. According to someone who brought a GPS along for the ride (either a flash git or a very sage man - the trip through the desert will decide that) it's now 770 miles to Banjul as the crow flies. Unfortunately, since the answer to the question 'What have the Romans ever done for us' in these parts is 'b****r all', the road that leads there may well be considerably longer...

As I mentioned, it's pretty much radio silence from this point on so I may have to invent tales of derring do by way of an intermission to fill the space up till they come out of the desert. Or possibly tell you about my exciting travels to Tesco and the opticians. Or, you could all post your most exciting outings of the week. Perhaps you took potted meat sandwiches and a flask! Let us know by posting a comment. Cheers - Phil.