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15161516 of my eye as they battle with physics. And although we are riding together: in this moment we are each on our own. But it is very comforting to know that you can trust your friends should the need ever arise. This has little to do with making time, important is arriving together. A pit stop at the Auberge Oasis revives the spirits. The owner tells us of the old rally days and how the express caravan bolted westwards across the dried out von Lac Maider. There can be little mention of bolting, let alone higher speeds, over the next few kilometers as the north side of the Foum Mharech confronts us with deepest Fesch-Fesch. Gradually I notice that my office-steeled body is reaching its limits. The Lac Maider welcomes us with bright, penetrating light. This irritating shiny surface looks like polished from a distance. But there is something else, too. A dull sound getting slowly louder and louder …roooaaaAARR! A rally buggy shoots past us with an infernal roar. Followed by a wagon train, could

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