Running through the dunes was an amazing experience. The dunes themselves were magnificent and impressive, but there was an additional feeling of solitude, as we were often out of the howl of the wind and completely on our own, with no other runners to be seen � not even their footprints.
As we progressed further into the dunes, we started to catch occasional glimpses of other runners. We would crest a dune and would see either ahead of us, or behind us, other runners at high points, all taking different routes through to CP4. It was at this stage that we were blessed with the company of another runner � a French athlete named Jerome. Jerome, who had been running alone, obviously wasn�t keen on doing so through these intimidating dunes and so had decided on following me and Russ, which we didn�t mind in the least. However, after some time, Jerome started to get a bit agitated that as every time we reached a high point, he could see a runner in the distance that appeared to be following a different course. �Are you sure zat zis iz ze right way?� he would ask, to which Russ would explain about the fact that we were following the bearing given in the roadbook. Several hundred yards later, Jerome would again catch a glimpse of a runner in the distance, heading off in a slightly different direction and would pipe up again: �Zat man is going ze right way I sink, and we are going in ze wrong direction�. Russ again explained about the fact that we were on a bearing given in the roadbook.
About an hour and a half into the dunes, we caught up with a group of three Italian athletes who were also not too confident in their map reading abilities. They happily tagged onto our threesome and the six of us soon caught a glimpse of CP4, nestled in shallow basin. At this CP I asked some of the medical staff how many runners had gone through before us, and although I couldn�t exactly understand what they said, I gathered that it was only 2 or 3 people in front of us now seeing as we had made such good progress throughout the day.
The 6 of us left CP4 together, with Russ doing all of the compass work. As we pushed on the clarity of the light started to deteriorate; the sun was obscured not by cloud but again by sand that the wind was starting to pick up. Each time we crested a dune the sand was whipped into your face as you met the wind head-on and the effort of having run 35 miles to this point were now starting to tell. Above us, the helicopter was buzzing around and in the distance was the sight that we had been waiting for all day � one of the top competitors and winner of the race on a number of occasions, a Moroccan, appeared out from behind a dune and just lazily galloped past us, as if he hadn�t run a mile. The 6 of us just stood and gawped in silence until in we broke into a round of applause. As soon as he had shot past we spotted his brother about 50 metres away to our right and knew that there would be a close finish if they were still pretty much together after over 50km.
In the last few Kms before CP5, the 6 of us again broke up and Russ and me were left with Jerome over the last series of dunes. Struggling to the summit of one, Jerome piped up for the final time: �...zis is not ze right way...�, at which point Russ lost it. I couldn�t exactly hear what he said but I caught snatches of his mad Scottish monologue: �...know what I�m........fucking doing.........bearings in the book...........he can go his own way........� and all the time, Jerome just happily ran along, looking sheepish but wanting to stick with us for company.
Eventually we climbed up over the last dune and before us lay CP5 a few hundred metres in the distance. The CP was based just outside of the edge of the dunes in a massive salt flat, over which the last few miles of the stage would be run.
Upon arrival at CP5, I couldn�t believe at how fresh and relaxed I felt at having run over 40 miles, with only 11 or 12km to go until reaching the end of the stage and the bivvy site. Russ again took of his shoes and emptied them of sand and we also put some dressing on his back which was looking pretty sore. After only a few minutes we were back on the go, with Jerome in our footsteps as usual. Now that we were on completely flat hard packed earth, we felt the full force of the wind, which seemed to be worsening every few minutes. Me and Russ took it in turns of about 2 or 3 minutes at a time to lead, and although I knew he was tired, I started to get annoyed with Jerome as even though we were running as a threesome, it was only me and Russ taking leads at the front to protect the other two from the wind and make things a bit easier. Having run up until this point in relative ease, it would now start to go horribly wrong.
The weather conditions had really started to deteriorate since CP5: not only was the light fading as evening drew in, but the wind had picked up so that the air was full of sand � not the type you find at the beach, but a fine red dust that seemed to clog up everything. About half an hour or so after leaving CP5, we were joined by a number of athletes, all running as individuals, who had managed to catch us up. These didn�t include the guys that we had run through the dunes with, but consisted of a couple of Italians, a South African, a Japanese and a couple of others. These runners tucked themselves in behind Russ and me and happily stayed out of the wind as we did all the work in keeping the group going. I soon started to get really fed up at the fact that Russ and me were doing all of the work for this pack and wanted to do something about it. The both of us tried to start running so that those behind us weren�t being sheltered, just so that they�d get the message and take a turn in sharing the effort. This however didn�t work and they all just sat there behind us � stony faced and ready to pounce at the finish.
I couldn�t believe this. We had run over 45 miles, through massive dunes and for the most part of it on our own, and this stage, the biggest and most fearsome of the race was ending like a 10km road race with everyone jockeying for position as we covered the final few miles. In an attempt to rid ourselves of the leeches (as I now figured them in my mind) I screamed at Russ above the wind, which by now must have been coming straight us at over 50mph, that we should just make a break for it. We both just teared away from the group at an amazing speed and there was just no way that any of them could follow. There was now just me and Russ again heading into the gathering dusk and I started to regret that we hadn�t signalled to Jerome our intentions in leaving the others behind. Hopefully he would accompany the others to the finish.