January 3rd 1988. Liaison stage from Algiers to El-Oued.   

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After slowly passing through the very thorough Algerian customs procedures there was further delay caused by the lateness of the boat carrying the lorries and motorcycles. This delay was caused by a particularly rough crossing of the Mediterranean. We finally left Algiers at 3-30 pm for the 600 km. Stage, and apart from one wrong turning we had a problem free drive. We were rather surprised at the apparent lack of any wish to survive shown by some competitors, especially the truck drivers. A twin turbo Daf passed us on a completely blind corner at what seemed like 1000 mph! We decided not to emulate these drivers as the liaison stages are non competitive and the time allowed is plenty. Most of this stage was on good road, although towards the end there were a lot of pot holes and tongues of sand blown across the road. The landscape was quite mountainous, and due to optical illusion there were several places where we could only tell whether the road was up or downhill by listening to how hard the engine was labouring. We arrived at the overnight bivouac at about 11-00 pm and were very pleased to find a good hot meal and coffee at the Africatours canteen truck. By the time we had eaten and found a relatively quiet place to pitch the tent we got to sleep at about 1-30 am.

January 4th 1988. El-Oued to Hassi Messaoud.

We awoke at about 5-50 am and missed the 5-00 am briefing! Africatours provided an adequate breakfast and a food pack to last the day. The first 50 km of the stage was liaison, mainly on rough tarmac, and was done in convoy. We left the bivouac at 7-00 am and an hour later were at the start of the special stage. Our due start time was not until 12-10 pm, so we had plenty of time to check over the vehicle and swing the compass.

The start was at one minute intervals, with 5 vehicles starting together. This is unusual in rallying, normally a start will be one vehicle at a time at 30 second or one minute intervals. Although we were almost the last to start, within ten minutes we had passed many cars and trucks stuck in the sand, and after about 12 km we were stuck for the first time. We took out our shovels and sand mats, and it was not long before we were on the move again. Because of the soft sand the going was now very slow, and we got stuck many times, although not for very long each time. We were becoming more confident now, and beginning to make fresh tracks rather than drive in the deeper more used ones. This was quite successful and we made better progress for a while, but then we had our first major problem. We came to the top of a dune, still right beside the main set of tyre tracks, only to find ourselves in a dip of incredibly soft sand. We started to shovel the sand away from both axles and the bottom of the fuel tank, and put the sand ladders in place. After about five minutes digging we were ready to attempt to move, but we moved just the length of the sand ladders and then sunk in again as deep as before. Undeterred by this we started digging again, only to have exactly the same result! This happened five or six times, and the net result of thirty minutes hard work under the strong sunshine was about 15 meters progress! It looked as if we were going to be there for a very long time, and it was then that we first really began to realise the magnitude of the task in front of us. But then we looked over to the main track and saw the support truck of the Toleman team coming to a halt. The sight of a strong electric winch on the front of the lorry cheered us up no end, and we gratefully accepted their offer of a pull out of our muddle! We had a brief chat about what to do and decided to travel in a two vehicle convoy so that if either of us had a problem we could help each other out. This we did quite successfully for about 20 km, but the sand was getting softer and although we were not getting stuck so much we were working the engine very hard, and it began to get very hot. We managed to draw some heat from the engine by putting the cab heater of full, but by now with the outside temperature up to around 40 degrees it was getting very tough.

Unfortunately our discomfort soon seemed an insignificant problem as the engine coughed once and then stopped completely. We immediately guessed what the problem was, and a quick look at the sediment bowl on the supplementary fuel filter confirmed that we had a major fuel vapour lock problem. It had got so hot under the bonnet that the fuel was vaporising in the filter, which meant that the pump was unable to draw any fuel to the engine. This problem was clearly going to take some time to overcome, so after a brief attempt to cool the filter with water and wet rags it was decided that the truck must keep going to fulfil his main objective of supporting the Toleman teams Metro. We quickly thanked them for their priceless assistance, and wished each other good luck, and they disappeared into the dusty distance.

We then set to the job of by-passing the fuel filter. This was not particularly easy because the steel armoured rubber hose is very difficult to join without all the correct fittings, and work conditions were less than ideal. However after nearly an hour we were on the move once more. We saw many vehicles stuck in dunes and some with insurmountable mechanical problems, and we felt sympathy for them after our newly found experience. But no way could we help them without totally losing any chance of finishing in time ourselves.

After another three hours of moderately good progress, interrupted by problems with the bodge job on the fuel line and still getting stuck now and again, we were about 75 km into the stage and the sun was going down. Very soon it was dark, but as luck would have it there was a clear sky and a very bright full moon. Shortly after dark and about 85 km into the stage we found ourselves in a mass of very soft sand dunes with about six other competitors. The intention of most of them was to stop where they were for the night as they felt that it was unwise to continue in the dark, and one had already pitched his tent! We now had to make our own decision whether to concede defeat or to press on. We were not long in making the decision, which was just as well because it was getting late and we still had 215 km of special stage in front of us! Watched by a Frechman scratching his head in disbelief we disappeared into the darkness. With only the vehicles spot lights and the moonlight, and being aware of the potential dangers, we decided to take a more cautious approach. We would walk a few hundred meters along the route to find the firmest track, and mark it with sticks or by scratching the sand. Dick would then stand with a torch at the end and Chris would drive towards him along the marked route. According to the road book it was only 15 km to a harder surfaced track. With this in mind we continued with this method, and made slow but safe and regular progress. Eventually we made it to the better track, and our hopes of finishing the stage in time were lifted.

By now we were becoming concerned about our fuel situation. Because this was a relatively short stage and we had too much weight on the vehicle anyway we had decided to start the stage with 40 gallons of fuel, rather than full tanks that would have been 50 gallons. At the time we felt that this was plenty for the 250 km special stage, and road stage to the next fuel supply, but we had not appreciated how much fuel a vehicle could use being driven at maximum revs in first gear low ratio, as we found we had to in the deep soft sand. We just could not believe the amount of power that was needed to move the vehicle under these conditions, it is something you have to see to really appreciate.

Progress on the harder track was very much quicker, and we were able to use high ratio gears again for some of the time. But this seemed almost too good to be true, and after 28 km our hearts as we arrived at an erg, which is a large mass of very soft and steep sand dunes. By now it was 2-00 am and we were 120 km into the stage. We found no encouragement from the number of motorcycles, cars and trucks that had decided to abandon and set camp at this point, but the thought of us joining them did not even cross our minds. Warning beacons flashed everywhere as a lone French competitor watched, looking rather bemused by the sight of two mad Englishmen digging their way to the top of the erg. We were soon over this latest obstacle and back on to hard ground, and we briefly wondered what the French observer must have thought as he heard us drive off into the night.

The good track was to last for just 3 km, and this short distance was to take us an hour due to a problem with the sump guard becoming detached from the vehicle. As Dick fixed the guard Chris looked around and could see at least ten sets of headlights in the distance, and the distant notes of straining engines came from all directions but seemed to get no closer. As the repair was just about complete a BMW car stopped alongside, and in the true spirit of the Paris-Dakar Rally asked if we were OK. We told him all was well and he wasted no more of his precious time.

It was now about 4-00 am and once again we were amongst sand dunes. We managed to make quite good progress still, and later were told that the sand is better to drive on at night because of the slight dampness that occurs. There were now some small bits of rough vegetation around us, but there was not time to pay much attention to that. As we gathered speed down the side of a dune to climb the next one we suddenly saw a torch light being frantically waved as if to point out the best route. In a low gear and with the engine revving like a vacuum cleaner we made our way up the other side towards the light. Thanks to this competitors help we had been spared a lot more digging, and we wished we could return the favour, but there was no way we were going to stop! After another few kilometres, about 160 km into the stage, we were faced with another problem. The engine stopped again, and after about 30 minutes checking the fuel filter by-pass bodge Dick diagnosed the problem as the fuel pump. We got down to replacing it, but by now it was very cold and damp, and our feet felt like blocks of ice. Conditions for this job were far from perfect, but after another hour we were on the move again. Whilst changing the fuel pump we saw a message written on one of the spares boxes. ‘Keep it going lads, from the night crew!’ This reminded us of all those people who had spent the last few days before Christmas working all hours to put our show on the road. It lifted our spirits, and confirmed the feeling that after all we had been through during the last 16 hours we were not stopping now.

We had not been going again for long before we were delayed again. A police patrol Land Rover was stuck in the middle of the track half way up a sand dune, and there was no obvious way past. We waited 20 or 30 meters away as these natives laid a track of wild vegetation in an attempt to get moving. After five minutes they had made no progress, and we decided that we would have to try to get past them. We made our intentions clear to them by use of the international language of flashing headlights and a loud air horn; they were left in no doubt that we were on our way! We passed close to the stricken Land Rover and climbed the dune, but having missed the bush tracks we got stuck close to the top. We looked at each other as we reached for the door handles, unsure of how the locals would react to our efforts! We dug a track towards their bush track, managing to avoid any confrontation with the Land Rover crew, who by now were spectators. We felt rather uneasy at the fact that the natives had stopped their own attempts to move, and were aware that everything we did was now being watched, probably in a very critical manner. With some relief we loaded the shovels and climbed back into our vehicle. We drove onto the locals bush tracks and were pleased that they worked very well. As we drove away we imagined that the bushes must have been scattered everywhere, and we hoped that the locals would not be too upset with us!

With a few more kilometres behind us we found ourselves in a very large dip with high sandy walls all around and the BMW that we saw earlier was half way up one side, marking what seemed like the only way out. Again in low gear and with maximum revs we began the ascent, but cursed the lack of power from our engine as we stalled alongside the BMW. The driver was lying in his sleeping bag gazing up at our dazzling headlights with his tired eyes. The only way we could move was backwards, so we reversed as far back up the other side as we could, and full of determination tried again to get up the steep soft dune. After several similar attempts we realised that we were making no progress, and that we would probably blow up our engine if we kept thrashing it so hard. It was now 6-30 am and things were again not looking good. Seeing our attempts had sparked new enthusiasm into the BMW crew, and although they spoke no English, and we spoke very little French, they managed to convince us that we had no need to clear the dune, and that everyone that had done so had turned round and come back shortly afterwards. They told us that we had all taken a wrong turning about 500 meters back, and that if we could turn round we would find the proper track. By now a Mercedes G-Wagon was with us in the pit, and its French crew agreed with us that we should go back the way we came. Both the G-Wagon and ourselves managed to get out of the pit, but we were unable to pull the BMW out and had to leave them.

After retracing our tracks for a short distance we did indeed find the main track, which we had lost only an hour earlier in the dark. By now it was broad daylight, and this made our job a lot easier. Soon after we rejoined the main track we came across a French motorcyclist who had spent most of the night trying to repair his clutch, and he confirmed our belief that we were on the right track. We gave him some water, as it looked like he had a day in the desert sunshine in front of him, and then agreed with the Mercedes crew to travel in convoy with them, still hoping to finish the stage in time.

It was now about 7-30 am and we were making good progress again. After another 20 km we were becoming more and more surprised at some of the abandoned vehicles we were passing. They all seemed to be within a few kilometres of each other, and some of them were from tip top factory backed teams, with telephone numbers for budgets, and several years previous experience. There was a factory Range Rover, a Kuros VW buggy, and a Honda Racing Corporation works bike with its Lee Cooper Jeans livery. It struck us that this stage was sorting out even some of the best prepared professional teams, and we felt a little better!

We were now 200 km into the stage, and we saw yet more victims of this incredibly hard test. Three more competitors, two motorcycles and a Lada, had just cleared their nights camp, and the Lada crew informed us of some inaccurate information in the road book. Unfortunately the motorcycles could not continue, so the convoy now of three vehicles left them to their long wait for help.

It was now 10-00 am and the track was much firmer, but travelling in a convoy of three cars meant that there was a problem with dust. We were quite happy to put up with this if it meant finishing the stage sooner and safely.

Not much further on and we stop again, having found a broken down Mitsubishi and some motorcyclists. The French crew of the Mercedes seemed to be more content in helping everyone by the roadside rather than going all out to make it to the next stage in time. After carefully considering our situation, which included the fact that both our distance trips were not working and that the roadbook was thought to be inaccurate, we decided to restrain ourselves from tearing off without them, and Dick did his best to subtly hurry them along. We felt it would have been of no overall advantage to ,go on alone, and theoretically we still had time to make it and check that no one was at deaths door! The Mitsubishi was un-repairable with a broken clutch, and although we did not like to leave the lone lady competitor, we had to continue.

We were making good progress now, and according to the roadbook there was only 20 km to the end of the special stage. We were pleased to be making the best average speed so far in the stage, and felt that we were still in with a chance of making the next one in time. But then, 10 km from the finish, it all went quiet again. We looked at the fuel gauges, and our first thought was that we had run out of fuel. Unfortunately we were at the back of the three vehicle convoy, and in the dust our colleagues did not see our dilemma. Indeed we never saw them again, and we wondered if our decision to stick with them really was such a good one!

As we thought we were out of fuel there seemed to be nothing to do but wait for some kind competitor to come and let us have some, and as we had not eaten much since the night before the start, we decided to take some Kendal mint cake from our emergency supplies. We were surprised just how good mint cake could taste! A little while later we saw three Mitsubishi press cars approaching, carrying reporters for the French TV channel 5. We thought that they would be in a good position to tell the world of the hardship and trauma of this very difficult rally, and it seemed that they were in a hurry to do so, as they drove past without stopping to see if we needed any help! After another 30 minutes we heard another vehicle, and it did not sound like a diesel so perhaps there was hope. We were situated on a soft slope, and the approaching Toyota showed no sign of stopping, but to our relief he stopped at the top of the next dune, to avoid the possibility of getting stuck himself. The two occupants started to walk towards us, and the co-driver, a large French woman spoke very good English. We discussed our problem, and she told us that they had plenty of fuel but could we let them have some water. This seemed like a good deal, and we soon had petrol in our tank.

Unsure of what lay ahead, the French pair suggested that we travel together, and we agreed that this was a good idea. Unfortunately when we tried to start the vehicle it had decided that it was not going to play today, and the French pair, fearful of disqualification, decided that they had to go on alone.

With Dick working under the bonnet there was nothing for Chris to do but pass over some tools occasionally, and listen to the sighs and curses emanating from the engine compartment. Then after about half an hour struggling with the fuel line again Dick confidently called to Chris to ‘‘Fire her up!’’, and this he did. After a few tense seconds the engine came to life, and again our adrenaline flowed fast. We had no time to be annoyed with ourselves for wrongly assuming that we had run out of fuel, although with hindsight the first thing we should have checked was that problematical fuel filter bodge. Looking back it is clear that sheer fatigue was a factor in this oversight. But we had wasted nearly 2 hours, so we quickly packed the tool box, food pack and sand ladders, (we had got the hang of that by now!), and set off for the last few kilometres. We could not afford to stop now, we had to keep moving. The sand was deep again now, and making fresh tracks seemed to be less effective than driving in the existing ones, but we could sense that the finish was not far away, and this made everything seem much easier. After a problem free 10 minutes we could see the finish, and we thought to ourselves that after the 26 hours of hardship and trauma that we had just been through a fitting welcome might be a grandstand full of people and a rostrum with Champagne flowing. But all there was were two flagpoles that had almost fallen down, a rally organisation truck and a Coca-Cola Land Rover. We stopped at the checkpoint to hand in our time card, but there was no one there to take it, and we began to realise that we were not going to make it to the start of the next stage in time.

An unshaven Frenchman beckoned us forward, and made some comment. We would still like to know what he said, but he handed us a couple of cans of Coke, and to us at that time nothing meant more than this little gift.

A brief conversation with the organisation truck driver confirmed that we had missed the next stage, which was still separated from us by 540 km of liaison stage. As we spoke to him it came over on his radio that the start of the next stage had just closed. We finished our drinks and then set about the hardest task of all. We had struggled in the stage, and had worked towards the rally for 12 months, and during that time we had overcome some formidable obstacles, and frequently come to the end of our tethers. But now we had to fill in the official notice of abandonment. Dick took a pen and a deep breath and got on with it. He filled in our start number, our exact location, the date and time The next question on the form was ‘Reason for withdrawal’. There was not enough space to put it all down there, so Dick wrote ‘Out of time’.

We were not the only ones to go out of the rally by the end of this stage. Over one third of all starters did not get any further either, and it was acknowledged by many that this had been one of the hardest stages ever put in this rally, which itself is said to be the hardest rally in the world of motorsport.

Looking back at what happened to us we can see many possible reasons for not getting any further than we did. However we came to the conclusion that if we had not had the problem with the fuel vaporisation, and the multiple delays afterwards caused by the unsatisfactory bodge on the fuel line, we would most probably have done much better. Having just failed to get over the first stage in time, and being told it was an exceptionally hard one, we later learned that the next one was one of the easiest of the rally. However, with the knowledge and experience we gained we feel that another attempt must be made, and our chances must be better by a factor of ten.