Stage 4: One Long Day

Wednesday 9th/Thursday 10th April 2014

Ba Hallou to Rich Merzoug - 81.5 km

Allowed Time: 34 hours

Check Point Closures:

CP3 Closure: 11hours

CP4 Closure: 16 hours

CP6 Closure: 30 hours

Well the big day had arrived. The routine was as normal with 2 exceptions on my part. Firstly I ate a Beef and Potato Hotpot (from a Ziplock bag) for breakfast - it was so nice not to have something sweet for once. Secondly because my feet were swelling I thought I would just wear my outer double layered 1000 Mile sock and not my inner Injini toe socks. When I tried this in the tent, I immediately got a blister on one of my toes. Not the best of starts but out with the medical kit, removed the blister, cleaned the area and put back on my toe socks. Sorted (well kind of)!

I had thought I would approach this stage with a sort of 'GAA-style dressing room motivation' where if I had brought a hurley, then I would have smashed it off a chair in an attempt to psyche myself up. What actually happened was a far more nervous affair where I kept going over my plan for the day in my head and continually reassured myself that no matter what happened, I was going to stick rigidly to it.

The plan was as follows: Go easy for the first 10km to CP1 - walk a lot of it. Get over the big jebel in one piece and run on and off to CP2. From CP2, the plan was again to run on and off until I got to the dry lake, which I would run across to CP3. There were then 3 jebels to tackle before CP4. Run on and off to CP5 and then on to CP6. Depending on my state at CP6, run or walk to the finish. At CP4, I was going to eat a freeze dried chocolate chip desert (500 calories) and throughout the day I would snack on Power Bars, a sugary flapjack or two and some energy sweets. Simple as that!




Patrick Bauer And His Translator Giving Us The Low Down On The Stage Before The Off

We were informed at the morning race briefing at the start line that we would be dancing to Farrell Williams' "Happy" to help us "loosen up". Given that only 938 competitors took to the start line (Stage 3 had taken its toll on the race), this seemed like a good way to cheer everyone up! Sure enough before we left for the day, before we heard ACDC in our ears, the song kicked in and all of the runners, led by Patrick Bauer and the translator lady, began to dance. It felt a little odd but the vast majority got with it and it created a bit of an atmosphere, which for the guys videoing in the helicopter above our head, must have looked good, because we danced for ages as they circled and circled and circled. We would dance to the same song on the final 'fun' charity stage, but, due to severe tiredness and pain, it would not be so good.

The countdown was on and the longest single distance I would have ever covered on my feet in one day was upon me. Survival was the major priority. Where I finished didn't really matter but I had set my sights on 16-20 hours to complete the stage. Of course in these sort of events the MDS lesson of "don't expect anything" is especially true - you never know what is going to happen over a full day of racing like this. You can feel great one minute, terrible the next. This was common - it is meant to be "the toughest footrace on earth" afterall.

I left the start line slowly. It was the first time where I felt I was really being passed by a lot of the field. Part of my reasoning to go out slowly was to use the first few kilometers as a check to see how my body was and to let it warm up slowly. I was a little concerned at the numbers passing me but kept reassuring myself that I would make inroads in the latter part of the stage where my plan of not stopping at checkpoints would pay off.     

The first 10km to CP1 went smoothly but slowly. I power walked my way along stony terrain and into another oued. It was primarily soft dried mud, so you could move well enough through it without any major sinking of the feet.

2 bottles of water here - I refilled my bottles, poured some over my head and then looked upward and gasped in horror at what was awaiting me. It was the El Otfal Jebel, a 2km trudge up the most difficult jebel we would face in the race. It had a 12% gradient for the first 1.5km and then a 30% gradient for the last 500m. It was so steep in some sections that they had installed climbers ropes to help the participants. 

The Approach To The El Otfal Jebel After CP1 - Zoom In To See A Long Line Of Competitors

You could see a long line of runners stretching out over the ascent route and there was nothing to do but join the queue. The first sections were fine, sandy climbs where you had to work hard to ensure you were moving up and not slipping down. As we neared the end of the steep sandy section after around 20 minutes of torture, we hit a rock face, which we were expected to rock climb over and along to reach the next sandy section. If you are not good with heights and steep drops like me, this is not a good place to be as runners were climbing over each other looking for the best routes, rather than staying in line and waiting. One wrong step and you were going to break many bones on the way down to the foot of the jebel. Looking down I could still see plenty of runners coming into CP1, still with the ascent of the jebel to begin.

Eventually, after much clinging and climbing, I made it to the rope section and the Road Book proved to be extremely accurate again as the last 200m would have been near impossible without the aid of the rope. Standard stuff from me at the top, head down and go, no waiting around. I hit the rocky bed of a river channel coming down the mountain and walked my way off the jebel. The ordeal of the jebel was over. The realisation that I still had 68km to go after putting in what felt like a huge effort already was sinking in.

View From The Top As Competitors Ascend The El Otfal Jebel

We had a small dune section to negotiate, which I negotiated very well thanks to my internal compass and my desire not to follow the herd. I emerged on a stony plain, which was easy going, with CP2 around 6km in the distance. Halfway across the plain, we were greeted by a cheery MDS official from England. I deduced that this was Steve Dietrich from Running The Sahara UK. Steve had helped my get a place in the 2013 race initially (and subsequently into 2014) and I was very grateful for his help (see post "Arse Biscuits and My Saviour Steve"). I introduced myself and thanked him. He was rather pleased!

CP2 was another two bottle station, which at that stage I was glad of. It was 11km to CP3 and the terrain was going to relatively flat, with very few sandy sections, followed by a dry lake to cross. It was time to start running. I walked away from CP2 and took out my MP3 player, which immediately gave me a boost. It was here I passed Sian and Anj, both still going strong as I power walked and danced my way off the soft sand and on to a stony trail. The trail allowed me to pick up my pace and it was the first time on the stage that I ran without interruption.

After a further 3km, I caught a glimpse of what it takes to be in the top 10 at the MDS. The leaders had eaten up the advantage that we were given that morning and came cruising past - they had yellow marks on their numbers to say they had begun after us, but you didn't need to read their numbers to see they were in a different class. The Moroccan Elmorabity and Jordanian Al Aqra flew past with smooth running styles that seemed effortless. Not far behind was Mohamad Ahansal. All three offered words of encouragement and appeared to appreciate it when it was returned.

Mohamad Ahansel Passing Me - He Made It Look Effortless

 We tackled some undulating terrain before finding ourselves on a dirt road passing an oasis, the Foum Mharech Gorges Oasis to be exact, which was literally in the middle of nowhere. We skirted round a set of palm trees and some buildings before finding more undulating dirt road, which led towards the dry lake. Just before the lake, I spotted a large, isolated building on the hillside, which turned out to be a hotel called the Riad Nomad (http://www.riadnomad.com). It was bizarre. The roads were awful and it seemed to me that we were miles from anything resembling proper civilisation!

Passing The Foum Mharech Gorges Oasis

On I plodded past the hotel and down onto the dry lake, where I could see CP3 in the distance, around 3km away. It was a real Sahara moment - you could see the finish, but also the shimmer from the heat which would cause it to blur it as you moved - it was either that or I was becoming dehydrated.

As I got closer, I decided to drink everything I had in my bottles, so that I could start afresh at CP3. Anj arrived in just behind me, full of cheer with a big grin on her face, which made me smile. The smile was wiped off my face as soon as the nice French lady handed me just one bottle of water. I knew we had over 13km to CP4, including jebels and sandy terrain and it was still extremely hot. I was told I could take a second bottle along with a time penalty for taking that bottle, but I declined it. I should have known not to drink all my water before the CP by checking my water card - once again don't expect anything.  

I left CP3 immediately and headed straight up a narrow sandy gorge, which opened onto a steep sand ridge, which took a huge effort to climb. At the top I was struggling and was conscious of the fact that I was consuming a lot of fluid. The descent led into a stony valley before there was another sandy ascent to negotiate. Having two climbs in a row really took its toll on me but it did at least level out into a long plain with a slight incline, which thankfully was fine to run on.

The course skirted around some rocky heights before opening into a long straight stretch that brought us to Mhadid Al Elahau Jebel. You could see it in the distance - it did not look pleasant.

Along this section, the women's leader, Nikki Kimball, came bouncing past. She was full of energy and was smiling away and ran beside me for a short period to say hello. Again an elite athlete offered me words of encouragement and motivation and thanked me for returning the favour. She bounced along up the path to another competitor and ran beside him for a bit, no doubt cheering him along as well. Then off she went into the distance. It was a little surreal that the race leader, who was trying to put distance between herself and second place Laurence Klein, would be so kind as to stop and say hello mid-race. That's ultra running for you.

The jebel was not really what I needed at that stage - I was tired and running out of fluids. As I approached I spotted a man having a rest under a tree. It was Eoin. He looked so peaceful in the shade enjoying some food. I decided not to disturb him too much and kept going, taking out my earphones for a quick chat. I told him I was listening to Aslan on my MP3 player, to which his response was "It's a Crazy World"! Brilliant (if you know your Aslan) given the circumstances.

The jebel was nasty. It started with a long, slow, sandy ascent, which developed into a gradient of 13%. As you got higher it became rockier, but the rocks were flat and slippy, so you aimed to stay on the sand. On it went for what seemed like an age and as it started to level out, it felt as if my lungs were on fire. More fluids were taken to help myself get over the side effects of the climb. I was beginning to worry about making it to CP4 with what was left in my bottles.

For once, there was no major descent and instead I found myself running along the top of mountain following a trail that undulated up and down over the troughs and peaks of the jebel. It was a beautiful place to be and despite my fatigue, I actually enjoyed my surroundings as I ran along on my own. Eventually the trail led to a sharp sandy drop, which allowed us to plunge down into the valley below. What I was greeted with as I neared the valley was more sand. As you had to come off the jebel and move across a sandy slope, moving at pace was difficult as you were side on to the slope, as opposed to going up it. It was important to pick a line that wasn't too steep and follow it across and up the hill.

At this point, I had 4km to go to CP4 and both my bottles were very light. I was joined by an Englishman named Alex, who kept me company all the way in and helped to keep my mind off water. He was in a similar situation with regard to fluid - we were both empty. It turned out he had been engaged until a few weeks before the MDS, had gone through a break up and was pretty gutted about the whole thing (as you can imagine). That can not have helped him given the mental stress the race puts you under.

I felt sure that the lack of water coming from CP3 would take its toll on the field. I was to find out later that this was the case. 

CP4 could not have come sooner and the two bottles we were given were a real relief. I knew I had to eat but didn't want to spend too much time at the CP. My feet became very sore any time I stopped, so keeping moving was a priority. I hauled out my chocolate chip desert, poured in the water and let it soak. Bottles were topped up, electrolytes added, salt taken and I gave myself a mental once over.

I tried my level best to eat the dessert but it was lumpy because the powder hadn't mixed right. My only option was to mix it again and wait and seeing as I don't like waiting, I opened my mouth and shovelled it in.

Now eating powdery, watery, chocolatey gloop is a difficult challenge at the best of times, but in my then state of mind, it was next to near impossible. I came close to vomiting it back up but I flushed it down with more water but could still feel the powder sitting in my throat. To finish my meal, I ate a handful of nuts and off I went.

As I was leaving, I met Daniel, who had been ahead of me and had taken a rest. I told him I'd keep going slowly and he would catch up to me. Alex joined me but because my feet were still sore from the rest, I told him to push on, which he reluctantly did. After a bit of a chat with Richard, who I met on the bus from the airport, I was left alone as he pushed on as well. It wasn't long after that that I began to loosen out and started moving more freely.

I caught up with Alex and was chatting to him when Daniel came past and urged me to run with a small group he was with. It felt good to move with a bit of pace again and the sand began to ease off into more stony ground.

The race marshals had mounted a bright green laser at CP5, which pointed back to CP4 as a way to help with guidance as we were traversing a set of small rolling dunes. It would have been easy to get a little lost, especially as the sky darkened very quickly quickly. The head torches went and the mandatory glow sticks we received at CP3 were snapped and attached to our bags. It was a bizarre sight, seeing moving glow sticks ahead of you.
 

On Route To CP5 - The Sun Was Rapidly Descending So For First Time That Day I Could Take My Hat Off

I stayed with Daniel's group as long as I could, but I was struggling again and let them go ahead. We were well over 50km in now, so less that 30km to go. My brain was starting to tire because I started saying to myself "that's just ten trips up and down to the shop at home in Ardnacrusha, you'll do this easily..."      

Music makes my legs work it seems, because once I had put my MP3 back on, I got moving and was moving well. I passed Richard from the bus, then an Australian girl who was with Daniel's group, then Daniel's group who were having a meeting around a Road Book, before passing the Moroccan army trucks, who were supporting the race.

With about 3km to go to CP5, there was a slight incline and the ground became sandier (despite what the Road Book said). I was reduced to marching through the sand and running whenever the ground was hard enough. The laser grew closer and closer and Daniel and company passed me with about 2km to go, again urging me to run with them, but I was spent. I arrived at CP5 to a bottle of water and a brief medical check. Despite the fact that at night the desert is a cold place to be, the heat remains for a while after sundown as the sand and rocks release the heat stored up during the day, so there is still a risk for competitors.

After a quick a stop at CP5, I felt I was hitting the home stretch and this spurred me on to run out of CP5 along a sandy track. I knew there was 11.5km before I would get to the final CP before home and I thought I would try and run the entire section and see how I felt at CP6.

So off I went into the night alone, with only the sounds of my MP3 and the little voice inside my head for company. Occasionally a race 4x4 would come past and spray dust and sand in my face, but for the most part I was alone. I could see some runners behind me, but no one in front of me - no one to follow except for the fixed glow sticks the organisers had put in to help guide us. Despite this, I felt pretty good.

After about 5km, I had to turn off the trail I was on and entered a dry mud area with loads of small crevices. Concentration was crucial here as you had to keep an eye on your feet, the terrain and also your navigation but I found that after 62km, your mind tends to wander. Mine wandered off to The Farm in UCC (the sports' fields of University College, Cork) where I did most of my MDS training. I could see the grass I was running on and the white lines on the ground that marked out the pitches. I could even hear the grounds-keeper's tractor and the barks of dogs being walked. For all intents and purposes, I was in Cork running around a soccer pitch.

It was then I got a shock as I headed over a steep bank and barely managed to maintain control of myself. Gone was the grass, the tractors and the dogs and it was replaced with the realisation that I had no idea how long I was in dreamland for and what distance I had covered. I had entered low rolling dunes and oued country, reducing me to a walk and putting a big dent in my moral.

It was a very tiring 4.5km to CP6 and I could do nothing only walk as steadily as I could. I was really feeling it now - pain in my feet, tired muscles, sore back and low spirits. A few people passed me on the way in to the checkpoint, I am not even sure how many. When I arrived, I was offered one or two bottles and I took two. It was cooler now and I wasn't drinking as much so only need one but with the second, I gave myself a bottle shower. It was a great feeling to get a lot of salt off my face and hair and despite feeling a little refreshed, I was fading slowly.

I left CP6 tired but not emotional! I was numb from any feeling other than tiredness. Oueds were now the bane of my life. Every time my foot slipped on the deep sand or if I moved across the oued with the hope of finding harder ground only to be disappointed, I was made even more tired. i was beginning to become quite  annoyed with the desert.

Belgians are good for a lot of things - chocolate, beer, hosting MEPs in their capital city and now you can add 'motivating tired MDS competitors' to that list. Peter and Tommy came powering along behind me. I had just been spooked by a local who walked into the oued out of the scrub land and frightened the life out of me. It was just midnight and this guy just emerged into the oued in silence. I said to myself "where the f*ck was he off to?" given that there was nothing around us but barren desert and I hear "out visiting his friends" said a deep Belgian accent from behind me. The brothers were moving faster than I was and I thought to myself it was going to be a long trek in on my own, so I picked up the pace and powered along beside them.

The boys were flying it and had a good grip on remaining distance. Tommy, who was lagging behind us a little, talked about eating a bag of French fries and drinking a cool beer. He had resisted the lure of alcohol for over 8 months in preparation for the MDS. I told him I had a glass of wine with dinner on the night I arrived (which was delicious I might add)!

The oued eventually ended after over an hour of hard work, made easier with some Belgian banter. We left the oued and climbed over a small sand bank and there it was, the finish. It was miles away in the distance, all lit up, looking very inviting. One last lull hit me as I slowed down to a stroll as I realised the distance I still had to go.

I didn't care at that point, I was happy to stroll in. Once it hit me that 'strolling' was going to take an age, I decided running was a better way to go and took off after the Belgians who were now about 500m ahead of me. I caught up with them just at the finish line and 16 hours 24 minutes after I left the start line that morning, I crossed the finish line on what was the most difficult physical day I had ever experienced.

After a few handshakes, a cup of Sultan tea and collection of my water, I made the long journey back to Tent 140. There were a few groans from the tents as I passed them on the way down to our tent, but the vast majority were at least half empty.

Patrick and Ian were already home and sleeping. The lads put in some great performances, both in the top 200 overall, with Patrick not too far away from double digits. Patrick and I exchanged some tired pleasantries and I inflated the thermarest and struggled with my shoes, gaiters, socks and calf guards. Food wasn't an option at that point. My entire body was in pain and all I could do was haul the sleeping bag over me, put my feet up on my bag and shut my eyes. Apart from five minutes at CP4, this was the first time I had taken the weight off my feet since the morning start. A minute later I was upright again as I felt a sharp pain in my back and once it eventually eased off, I nodded off to dream of green grass, tractors and dogs barking. My long day was finally over.

I had no idea how long I'd been asleep when I heard my favourite Scot and my favourite former Olympian coming home. There are vague memories of saying well done to the girls before rolling over to avoid another back spasm to try and get back to sleep. I still hadn't managed to actually get inside the sleeping bag, but at that stage I didn't care.

I was dead to the world until I was woken by the Brighton Boys. Alex and Rich once again made it 7 out, 7 in as the lads arrived back at 6.40am. They had slept at one of the final checkpoints before making the long journey in. Tent 140 was complete again. It really was a great feeling to have everyone in back together.



Just Home - Alex And Rich Make It 7 Out, 7 In For Tent 140 On The Long Day

Much of the 'off' day was a bit of a blur between sleeping in the tent, having a chicken korma (in soup form) during the afternoon and trying to sort out my body so that it would move again the following day.

My feet were in dire straits. Patrick was in a similar boat and both himself and Ian made trips to see Doc Trotters and returned with positive reports. I decided I could rely on Dr. Phil no more and headed up to the medical tents. I took a brief pause to wait by the finish line, hoping to cheer on any of my fellow competitors I knew coming in, as I had been told that Niall had not returned yet.

The medical tent ran fairly smoothly. First you were directed to an assessment tent, where you were checked to see if you were in bad enough a condition to require the doctors. If they felt you were in a reasonable state, they encouraged you to solve the issues you had yourself using their first aid equipment.

Luckily I was deemed a health hazard and directed to the tent where I was given a number and was asked to wash my feet with disinfectant and water. I was told it would be about 40 minutes, leaving me time to go back to the finish line for a while and watch as person after person stumbled in under the mid-morning sun. Still no sign of Niall.

Back I went to the medical tent, where I was eventually called and was directed to sit on the ground in front of Flo, a pleasant French doctor who had clearly seen too many feet already that day. She gestured for me to lie on the ground and give her my feet on her lap. I was already feeling sorry for her as I pointed out the main areas of concern - the blisters on the outside of both heels, under my right ankle, the ones on my big and small toes on both feet, the two under my feet, the one breaching the big nail on my right foot and the hard skin where I had punctured blisters earlier in the week.

She took a scalpel in her hand and smiled telling me "you can look to me or you can close the eyes". I opted of the latter, occasionally peeking to see what she was doing. The process was straightforward - she would puncture all existing blisters, followed by cutting off all of the dead skin and already-punctured blisters, followed by carefully adding iodine to guard against infection. She would then tape my feet so that I would be able to run the following day.

The scalpel was not the most pleasant experience I have ever had but Flo cut quickly to minimise discomfort. I had a good laugh/wince/cry with an American who was going through the same experience. He was from San Francisco and had visited Cork and when I mentioned my friend Elmer, he remembered the incident in which he died. After twenty minutes and a bit of stinging from the iodine, Flo smiled and said she was done. My feet were clean, pink (iodine) and neatly taped up. I thanked her several times before leaving to go back to my tent. I was beginning to feel better.

My Feet After Dr. Flo, A Scalpel And Some Magic Tape

The queue for the email was busy during the day, but once it died down I went across to report home that I was still alive. I had just sat down at the pc, when Niall walked in to the phone section of the tent, just beyond the desk I was sitting at. "Good man" I said, "how did you go?". "I'm gone" was the reply, to which I assumed he meant he was wrecked. "Sure we're all gone" says I, referring to how tired and sore we were. He replied "No, I'm gone, I'm out, I didn't make it".

Niall was a victim of dehydration, a major part of which must have been the lack of water received at CP3. He had made it to CP4 before he had to enter the medical tent there, where he was given a drip (two hour penalty) and then a second drip (six hour penalty) before sleeping and vomiting. He then took an extremely brave decision to leave the race. It takes a lot of guts to continue in a race like the MDS when you are close to breaking point, but it takes even more to put your hand up and say enough is enough. I cannot imagine what a difficult decision it was but for him, it was the right decision and that's all that matters. I shook his hand and told him I was sorry, it was all I could say. I deeply admired what he had done and felt it took real courage. He was allowed to stay with the bivouac, partly because the medical staff needed to keep him under observation, but also because it was the latter part of the race and his wife was flying out to see the last couple of stages. 

Back in Tent 140, we all relaxed and chatted about the stage and as we all missed proper food, what we would consume once we were finished and back in the real world. I only had eyes for a Big Mac meal from McDonald's!

There was a sense of satisfaction knowing that we had all broken the back of the race and with only a full 42.2km marathon to go to complete the official race, we were well on our way to achieving our goals. The magnitude of what we had done already was brought home when a klaxon went and all of the competitors made their way to the finish line to welcome in the last few still out on the course.  This is an MDS tradition. It was amazing to see the respect shown to those still making their way in by those who had already finished. Over 32 hours had gone by since we began the long stage and these guys were still out there battling away.



Emotional Welcome: Waiting For The Last Competitors (Sunglasses To The Left Of The 'U')

The welcome they received was inspiring. All of the athletes, including the elites, clapping and cheering as they completed the last hundred meters or so - it was enough to bring a tear to the eye. Waiting at the finish line was Patrick Bauer, from whom they received a well deserved hug. The sweeper camels, the camels who walk behind the competitors each day with their 'driver', also got a huge cheer. The driver was lifted up by the Berbers and thrown into the air repeatedly. It was crazy when you thought about it. The driver, who looked like he was getting on a bit, was also completing the MDS, and not for the first time I'm sure!  


Some Of The Last Competitors Crossing The Line To Huge Cheers Of Applause

After returning to the tent and receiving our emails, which again lifted our spirits, we were told that we needed to collect new race numbers. We all knew it was a bit of a ruse, as in previous years competitors had received a surprise ice-cold can of coke on the rest day and this rest day was to prove no different. The can was indeed cold as I pressed it to my forehead. I considered exchanging it for some food, but quickly put that out of my mind as I opened it and knocked it back. Savage!

All that was left to do, was to take stock of the last two days and get ready to sleep. One last big effort and we would officially complete the "toughest footrace on earth". The mood in the tent was great. Despite sore bodies and tired minds, there was a sense of impending elation, but it would only come after one last hurrah through the Sahara! We told jokes and laughed before turning in to reflect on an epic couple of days. 

 


Road Book for Stage 4:

Maximum Authorised Time: 34

1st group departs: 9H00.
2nd group departs: 12H00

Km 0 : Follow markings to keep very stony terrain on the right. Km 3 : Cross small sparse dunes for 1.6 km. Then flat terrain with small stones.
Km 6,8 : Cross Rheris Oued. Loose soil, oued vegetation and small dunes.
Km 8,3 : End of oued, keeping oued to the right go N/NO.
Km 9,7 : CP1. Go SW (course 217°) for difficult climb up El Otfal Jebel.
12% average slope up to summit, then 30% for the last 500m.
Climb alternating rock and sand.
Km 11,7 : Summit. Panoramic view. Turn left.
Km 11,8 : Turn right.
Km 11,9 : Rocky oued bed. Descent.
Km 13,2 : End of descent down oued bed. Cross very stony plain.
Km 14,3 : Enter dunes. Take direction 215°.
Km 15,6 : Exit dunes. Go South (course 184°) until CP2. Flat, slightly stony terrain.
Km 21,3 : CP2 on small hill. Continue South (course 177°) until km 24.7. Flat, few stones.
Km 24,7 : Rocky peak to the left. Terrain more stony.
Km 26,4 : Well to the left. El Maharch Pass. Sandy.
Km 29 : End of pass. Go S/SW (course 195°), cross dry lake.
Km 32 : CP3 at end of lake. Small ascending gorge.
Km 32,5 : Sandy summit. Descent then stony valley.
Km 33,2 : Sandy passage through slightly hilly area.
Go South (course 174°). Deceptive ascending slope, sandy.
Km 34,7 : Sandy descent.
Km 35,3 : Bottom of descent. Go W/SW (course 250°) until km 39.7.
Alternating stony and sandy terrain.
Km 38,8 : Small hill. Sandy ascending terrain.
Km 39,7 : Climb up Mhadid Al Elahau Jebel (13% slope).
Go along crest looking over 2 valleys, one on each side.
Km 41,9 : End of crest, turn left, sandy descent.
Km 42,2 : Valley. Go West (course 263°). Sandy ascent.
Km 43,3 : End of ascent. Go W/SW (course 257°) until CP 4. Sandy descent.
Km 45,3 : CP4 in valley. Go West (course 260°) until CP5.
Succession of oued beds with vegetation and slightly stony terrains.
Km 51,6 : Hill and military post to the right. Less sandy then small stones.
Km 55,3 : Taourirt Mouchanne Jebel to the right. Terrain increasingly stony.
Km 58,1 : CP5. Go West (course 281°) along the Mouchanne to the right.
Km 60,5 : Mouchanne ends, passage through small dunes. Go N/W (course 311°). Stony terrain.
Km 61,6 : House to the right. Stay on course (course 310°) until large fallen tree.
Km 62,7 : Crevices and uneven dirt track. Stay on 310°.
Km 63,6 : Large fallen tree. Go N/W (course 307°) until bed of Bou Khechba Oued.
Stony terrain then dirt track and small dunes.
Km 66,2 : Enter the oued. Turn left, general direction W/NW (course 283°).
Sandy oued bed lined with trees.
Km 67,4 : Follow oued to the right.
Km 69,7 : CP6 in the oued. Stay in oued, general direction W/NW (course 296°) until km 76.5.
Km 74,3 : Well.
Km 76,5 : Leave oued on the right side, direction N/NW (course 333°).
Row of small dunes then plain with small stones up to bivouac.
Km 81,5 : B4 finish line