I had lost some of my skills since last time. We were going to spend the first part of the morning getting them back. Instead of going to the bigger dunes, Barlow took me into the area where I had gotten stuck and put me through the paces until I was comfortable again.

As I drove across the waves of sand I started to feel the rhythm coming back. The smooth flow of the repeated motion, always the same and always different all at once. The Jeeps weaved in and out, up and down, along the curves of golden sand. It was good.

After a while, Barlow saw I was ready to tackle the questions of speed and handling. She picked a point as an “objective” and told me to decide how we would get there, but she wanted me to explain the reasons for my choices. The options were going over the dunes, which would take longer, or running through an area along the wadi bed, that was flatter, though full of trees and other obstacles we would need to weave around.

For me, time was the bigger issue, so I chose the flat route where we could go faster. I headed straight for the wadi, across the smaller dunes and into typical sandy desert terrain and began to speed up…

As we descended into the valley, we reached the outskirts of a village, and according to our map, the CP should be somewhere around here. We must be careful here, as there are kids playing and people working and private property that we must avoid trampling. Niki was feeling very uncomfortable about our “invasion” of this rural village. But residents smiled and waved, as we drove slowly through the central “road” looking for something “red.”

I had a hard time imagining that they would put the checkpoint in someone’s yard. Still, the plotted point was roughly somewhere around here. The Gazelle invasion was in full swing, and we saw lots of other teams methodically searching as well.

We were struggling with the “obstacle” of a populated area with homes and fields that prevented us from going in a straight line. Their winding street did not match our heading, and we were losing track of our “exact” position. We started driving towards anything “red.” And I wasn’t helping the situation, because I kept seeing “red” everywhere: a moroccan flag outside a school, something red hanging on a laundry line in a backyard, even a lady in a red robe in front of her house!

We backtracked and tried again, thinking we may have missed it. Finally we got a clue when we saw several Gazelle vehicles coming back from a point a bit past where we had been searching, but roughly along our heading. We decided to go to the place they were coming from. We followed the village road around, and this time found the flag, tucked in behind a small rise a bit beyond the last building. A crowd of Gazelles and villagers were there intermingling. It was a very strange sense of contact without contact. We were there and so were they. But we could not connect beyond a smile and a wave. There was no time to stop and speak. No time for sweet desert tea or a shared moment together. The momentum of the event pushed us forward, we had to hurry on to the next CP.

As we drove off toward our next heading, we were struck by just how bizarre it felt for us to be in this place without at all connecting with the people who live here…

We are learning to be able to distinguish tiny differences in the desert landscape and use them as “landmarks” and that is pretty cool. But at the same time the intense concentration on our “target” means we cannot appreciate the whole. The Sahara that I love so much. We are deep in it, but unable to stop to bask in the simplicity of her magnificence. We are chasing time.

I see off to our right what looks like ruins. Maybe it once was a village. What happened to it. Why was it abandoned. All my instincts want me to stop, to explore, to make notes and photographs and try to learn the story of this empty place. And yet there is no time to even stop for photography now. We are determined to try to get all our CPs and I drive too “slow” to allow for leisurely stops along the way. We have not even gotten to the first checkpoint of the day. I tentatively mention my thoughts about the place to Niki, but I see that look on her face and know before she even says it — “just keep going straight”…

After yesterday’s “success” we were feeling ready and motivated. We were determined to keep up the momentum of our “new beginning.” It was like we had finally proven to ourselves that we can do this.

I eagerly prepped the Jeep while Niki plotted our first CP. We were focused. As we left the line, heading out into the desert morning, we were smiling…

But we were still slow. Eventually the convoy of Gazelles, photographers and officials caught up to us and sped along ahead. We didn’t care. We let them take the lead. Today we had been “fast enough”…

I tried to “stretch” the boundaries of my vision to see further into the grey blur that was the horizon. I only needed to see one flash of red. We knew roughly where it should be. But my eyes were only met with grey. The tactic wasn’t working this time. Niki reminded me that we were losing the light. She was right. We had to keep moving.

We were back on the ubiquitous mixture of sand and rock, and the sound of our diesel engine seemed so loud in the emptiness of the desert. The day had been very long. And we were on edge, looking for the checkpoint with a mixture of desperate fervor as if in search of the holy grail. A solitary figure appeared in the distance coming towards us from nowhere. Getting closer, we could see the robed man on a moped coming from the direction the CP should be in. Our spirits lifted. That bedouin was a “sign.”

I sped up, moving faster, as straight as I could go towards what seemed to be nothing in the empty desert beyond. And then it seemed as if we were on the edge of a plateau that opened beneath us, and I saw the flicker of light I had been looking for. A group of Gazelles were still there, waiting for the CP to “close” so they could drive to the bivouac together. We pulled up and got our paper stamped.

Relief and elation. We did it. We got all the checkpoints!

Niki had to concentrate on keeping our heading “landmark” in sight as I concentrated on maneuvering the Jeep in a series of tight curves around the cursed bushes half covered in sand. The sun was low in the sky. And we were determined to get this final checkpoint. For us it had taken on an almost mystical importance. Until today we had never even been close to getting all our CPs, and now we were almost there. The dunes had been the key that unlocked our mojo. We had worked our way back into the game. This last checkpoint was our “proof” that we really could do this.

Now we just had to find it. The helicopter was hovering over something far off and to the left of where our CP should be. We resisted the temptation to drive towards it, knowing that it was probably filming the last checkpoint of the day for the top competitors, and that wouldn’t be ours. We stubbornly stuck to our line, with a new found confidence in ourselves…

As we came closer they shouted for us to be careful. Pointing to a rock on our side, they told us not to take that path, that someone got badly stuck there (I don’t know if they broke their truck, or just got stuck, but this info was enough to make me want to avoid that particular rock). We thanked them, and continued to look for an opening.

Another ten yards or so down the side I found my sweet spot. Niki walked on ahead to spot me back up on the other bank as I eased the Jeep down softly without a scrape. Driving slowly along the trench, past the rock we had been warned about, I made my way around to a less steep place where Niki was standing as a “directional marker” so we wouldn’t lose our heading. She got back in the Jeep and we drove up right next to the other Gazelles. They were on their way back from the CP we were heading to, and they offered us a some friendly advice, telling us it was “very hidden” and difficult to reach. We thanked them, driving on along the side of the black rocky mountain looming ominously on our left.

According to Niki’s map, the CP should be behind that mountain. We were almost there, but we saw nothing to give us a clue. Just the same black rocks in all directions. Putting our blind faith in the heading and distance measure now, we kept going, chasing the emptiness with a purpose.

Past an almost imperceptible hill of rocks, we reached another deep wadi. This one looking less inviting than the last. Another stop to scout moment. Encouraged by the sight of a Rally photographer on the other side — which probably meant we were almost at the CP — we moved quickly. In a surreal moment of ridiculous “vanity” I wanted to do the obstacle flawlessly for the camera. Niki would spot me up under a badly placed tree on the other side, but the almost straight down rock wall I would do on my own. I crawled it like I had been taught, with precise wheel placement and perfect throttle control. I could feel the weight of everything in the rear of the Jeep pushing down against my seat. It was a steep angle, but I knew exactly where each of my tires were at all times, and I had good traction. As I reached the bottom and flattened out, I smiled. Niki motioned me forward and up under the tree without a scrape. The photographer finished shooting.

From here we could see the flag…