GAZELLES RECONNAISSANCE 2018

Day 1:

The last arrivals reached Ali’s house in Merzouga during the night. For some, this mission follows on the heels of the first edition of the Gazelles and Men: Ludo our fearless leader, in his Air Force One; Serge from the Control Centre; Richard from assistance; Éric, our valiant master chef, on checkpoint setup with Jacky, handyman extraordinaire; Étienne, Bernard and Moha, uncontested masters of the Bivouac; rookie of the year, Pascalou, in charge of carting around the medical staff. Not to

mention Dom, our experienced temp; Jean "Petit Gris", keeper of the finish line; and finally Valérie, doctor, chief coffee brewer and writer.

After picking up supplies and distributing the load, it is time to put together the Prologue. Some rocks, a nice oasis, some tricky small dunes... and above all the search for a new bivouac: everyone has an opinion to offer with regard to size, orientation, slope, ground quality, mobile reception, accessibility to trucks... As always, we end up setting up our little village in a well-known sandy area. At this first camp, everyone finds their spot, we put off working, we talk about absent friends… At the same time, we

know that everything needs to get done: to each his or her tasks. As Moha says, “the reconnaissance is like ball bearings: if we’re missing one, it just doesn’t work”.

Day 2: Our little village is comfortable but chilly! The temperature drops to 5° overnight; in the wee hours of the morning, to the gurgling sound of brewing coffee, the coffee maker enjoys half an hour of quiet starry solitude, glacial but splendid, before the awakening of the troops... Gloves are welcome, and we eat breakfast standing up, stomping to try and warm up our toes, fingers curled around hot cups.

The sun rises in a cloudless sky. It’s a pity: the conjunction of Jupiter and Venus notwithstanding, no clouds means no colourful sunrise… The first time we pack up camp is always a little laborious, but we soon hit our stride. Each vehicle has its route, some final instructions and let’s go for this first leg, heading by heading! None of these landscapes are new to us, but we are moved by them every year: from Djebel Nehra, elegant dark lady with her pleated velvet dress languidly stretched out with her train of golden sand, to the dunes of Erg Chebbi that appear to the west as the sun goes down, like gigantic pink meringues against the dark reg...

This evening, after a looped leg, we return to the sand that we know so well and compare our performances (kilometres over theoretical ideal distance, times). It looks like some may have driven a little fast… The day comes to and end without a breath of wind. Although night falls early and quickly, our navigators are able to identify distant landmarks on the clear horizon. No doubt better than the Gazelles will in March... but at least it should be warmer then!

Day 3: Leg 2... camel grass, camel grass, camel grass, camel grass, camel grass, rocks, bigger rocks, camel grass, camel grass, big rocks, camel grass, camel grass... And then, like a reward, the vast oued appears, voluptuously unfurling the splendid curves of its wide grey gravel bed! We gather at a common CP and take one last look at the plateau we are leaving behind: immense, flat and featureless, we used improvised landmarks to keep to our heading, and the Gazelles will have to do the same. We start our descent, taking a well-deserved break at noon; after all, we have been up since 5:30 a.m.!

Some eat lunch while others prefer to get cleaned up. Either full or clean, we all resume our route, with the sun in our eyes along the winding steep-sided trail, for the obligatory visit to town. Time to feed our trucks… amazing how quickly we get used to not needing indicators lights! Heated discussions take place in each car. We all want to do well, not to mess up. We’re all afraid of making a mistake, making a bad navigation choice or driving maneuver, of failing to convince our teammates (“yes, we should go that way!”), of not listening to them (“doesn’t this heading seem a little strange compared to what’s shown on the map?”). This evening, our well-deserved campfire is welcome, as we prepare for another chilly night.

Day 4: The dunes... They loom sharp against the horizon as soon as the sun comes up, fast and cold, to the south of our campsite. We wait before tackling the dunes for those who went up, by camel or on foot, yesterday evening to come back down. The legendary dunes, anticipated with joy or terror, do not define our desert, far from it, but they remain an essential rite of passage without which the initiation would not be complete. Impossible to describe them even after dozens of visits; to evoke the sensation of crunching sand under the tires as we ride the curves or top the crests, the calm voice of Serge in our ears as he leads the way in Air Force One with consistency and precision.

And as the organizers are only fallible men (and one woman), and their steeds are only imperfect cars (or trucks), and as will undoubtedly happen to some of the Gazelles, our little troop has its share of problems. Breakdowns, getting stuck in the sand… We bumble along, adapting to the circumstances, dealing with unscheduled stops to dig, detours for impromptu repairs. Thank you Moha, thank you Jacky and Pascal; the others help out as best they can or capture

the adventures on camera. Tonight, as much for the machines as for the drivers and navigators, we spend the night at a desert inn. No campfire but a cheerful dinner, real beds and hot coffee in the morning in a dim but friendly dining room.

Day 5: Today we are small electric cars: we imagine ourselves with two-wheel drive, 600 RPM in third, lower ground clearance, and off we go. Our job is to plot a route adapted to the capacity of an e-vehicle, but worthy of the Gazelles. Easy navigation across vast plateaus of tiny shiny black stones that form interminable glittering fields. We get the feeling that our tracks won’t disappear in a hurry. Here and there we see a scattering of white stones as though dropped there by a careless child which, from afar, look like a colony of small white birds in a freshly-planted field, ready to fly off on our approach. We even come across some real fields, but what they are planted with is anybody’s guess… It looks like mole hills... but what on earth would one do with moleskin out here? This fascinating topic of conversation keeps us busy for a while!

Others follow the SUV route around the dunes. Each vehicle class will have its route and its well-documented challenges. Once again we have exceptional visibility thanks to the season and the clear sky. Sunrises and sunsets may be less spectacular, but our navigators enjoy identifying the

most distant features after taking their headings, and hope the Gazelles will have similar skies next March.

Day 6: Last looped leg; we have changed bivouac. After the usual discussions and verifications, and a short donkey ride for Étienne, who is happy to climb back into his 4x4, we are ready to build the first part of Leg 4, across the vertiginous plain of Oued Chouiref, along an immense tongue of sand stretching to the foot of the Boulchrhal mountains. Nobody remembered that there was so much camel grass here! The headings are cruel, refusing to take us through the flat reg right beside us! To the south, at the foot of the hills whose black rocky surface is decorated with shiny white swirls, we see small clouds of dust, moving quickly in a straight line through the trees. There are a few desert inns over there, and hence a few trails, deceptive if you don’t keep an eye on your features to maintain your heading, but it feels good to be able to advance a little more quickly!

This evening there is much negotiation before agreeing on the best place to camp: flat pour those who are sleeping in their cars, a bit of sand for those who are sleeping in tents, not too much vegetation for those who are afraid of bugs, a nice view for the morning, a bit of wood for the fire? We arrange the vehicles to provide protection from the wind, which makes it feel even colder, set up camp and gather around for a drink with Jacky followed by Étienne’s legendary salad and a hot dish prepared by Éric. As for the doctor, after stopping by Ahmed, our Merzouga herbalist and supplier of medications, to pick up some herbal tea and eucalyptus crystals for our patients (did I mention that it’s cold?), she sets up an impromptu medical infirmary. “This is good stuff!” exclaims Serge between two deep breaths…

Day 7: The morning is cold, and the wind has risen. Breakfast is a hurried affair so that we can quickly take shelter in our vehicles as soon as the tents and tables have been packed away. The briefing is fast too. We have the end of Leg 4 to check. Our route is blocked by a string of mountains just the way we like them. The map shows plenty of potential places to cross. Hungrily the vehicles line up, ready

for the attack. Each has its hollows, its gap in the dots on the map, its probability of getting through, its share of hills and peaks before reaching the theoretical pass. The answers start to come in: “No way we can get through here”, “I think we can do it, see you on the other side!”, … We get through, hurray! And then drive back through to see if it works in the other direction. We take notes, we study our maps, count the dots, double check. The mountain takes on a new light, as though, after exploring every possible path, every stone, it has become even more friendly and more beautiful. A great day of reconnaissance!

This evening, while the drivers take their vehicles to drink, the navigators compare maps, confirm their points, verify their trajectories, encourage the local shepherds in their makeshift tents on the plain… We sleep on the sandy shores of the nearby oued, no wood, no fire...

Day 8: Time to tackle the marathon legs. Today we change region: fewer fossils but gazelle country (the four-legged kind), and layer upon layer of rock. The chief says we’re behind schedule, so we throw ourselves into the task at hand. Between those who get an earlier start, those who pass by the bivouac, those who still have a few “electric” points to place, those who don’t take a break and those who are forced to stop to make some adjustments, we lose radio contact as we drive from valley to valley. The caravan stretches out, weaving between hills, tricky oueds and the powdery plain. Another chilly morning but the sun heats up quickly and we promise ourselves a shower in the early afternoon, at least for those who thought to put water to heat up in the engine. It helps when we don’t stop or let ourselves be distracted: navigation is sheer pleasure, the features are

easy to identify, even the drivers the most attached to their GPS let themselves drive by sight. We negotiate every tuft of camel grass and every field of wild arugula (with a brief stop to pick some!) to gain a few metres, we play the game...

In wanting to go fast, we go too fast: we overshoot our goal and find ourselves too far ahead. We go back to the previous point and then decide to try out another vehicle’s trajectory. Our heading is so precise that we end up face to face in the middle of nowhere! Bivouac in the plain.

Day 9: We all hope that the Gazelles in March will get to see this region under the same conditions as we are: no wind, good visibility, in the morning with no sun in their eyes, and attentive and relaxed enough to enjoy the scenery. The colours range from the inevitable luminous ochre to intense pinks and purples and greens so vivid we can hardly believe they are real. Dunes

and oueds of shining grey stone create landscapes that are so familiar and yet new every time... Once at the top of the steep road, we plunge into the immense cirque that marked each of us the first time we saw it, then we drive through the sprawling shady palm grove to reach the paved road. In Tagounite we pick up some supplies, warm bread at the small bakery hidden behind the main square, before setting out to place the first CPs of the final leg from the perspective of a small electric car. In this new landscape, we are able to get through, but not everywhere. A strange garden combining dunes, trees and grass, a succession of deep oueds lying across our path, strange misshapen trees for picnicking under...

We’ve had a long day of driving, requiring a return to civilization to fuel up. In the streets the undulating coloured silhouettes of women stand out against the setting sun. A youth flirts with a veiled girl in sunglasses, her head leaning against a lamp post. Night in a hotel.

Day 10: Depending on the year, this first day of the last marathon leg may begin with hellish sand in the small dunes, or hellish rocks. I won’t spoil the surprise; the Gazelles will see how we spent our morning at the beginning of the sixth leg and will know that we’ve all been there! Next we follow a sometimes sandy, sometimes rocky trail. We are lulled by the scenery and the driving, except for Jacky who hasn’t yet had his fill of car repairs and stops to attempt the impossible. Don’t bother, it has no engine, Jacky!

The trail leads to Erg Chegaga with its pale rounded dunes and hollows. Our little caravan follows the leader, whose rear bumper leaves in its wake a curtain of sand with each dune. We take the opportunity to check our tow straps… safety first! Some gazelles dash across the small dunes, magnificent as always. This year we are lucky enough to see several groups of the elusive creatures.

We stop for the night at the foot of a large dune on which, tirelessly devoted to the cause of the Gazelles, we begin filming an educational video (Jean’s idea… he wouldn’t be making fun of the Chief there, would he?) listing things the Gazelles Must Not Do, like rolling or flipping in the dunes … But they are allowed to follow each other in the sand…

We finally see some clouds this evening; the photographers are ready. The sun goes down quickly, its final rays illuminating the dunes crouching at the foot of Djebel Bani to the north. In the space of ten minutes they light up, are hidden, brighten again, are shadowed, and then finally, as dusk, return to their original velvety beige. We set up camp, time for bed.

Day 11: This day feels like the end. We drag our feet this morning, even though the day’s program is tantalizing: we’re doing the X CPs. Our tires are studded, Berber fashion. We head for the official dunes leg, the sun in our eyes, after a short session of landmark identification in Djebel Bani during which the navigation instructors scrutinize the landscape, plot lines on their maps and enthuse over “that little pyramid over there, see it?

We don’t usually know where to place it…” and “that tajine sticking out over there, look, that’s what it is on the map!”, under the interested and affectionate eye of the others.

And then we head into the sand, stretching as far as the eye can see! We relish every passage, savour every climb, every descent, as we navigate the dunes in their myriad forms: fractured, rounded, crested, pointed, curved, sloped… already nostalgic.

There is wood in these dunes, so we collect some. Before reaching the bivouac, we have the pleasure of crossing the plateau with its fascinating rock formations in the shape of marble cakes, giant mushrooms, enormous pétanque balls, perfect tiles, dinosaur crests...

Slowly we make our way to the last bivouac. All good things must come to an end. We put together the final leg, check our numbers, distances, points, comments, special routes, we pack the cars, we fold our working maps which we will burn tomorrow. We take our time, we have a drink: “We’ve really been drinking a lot this year!” exclaims Jacky.

And for our final evening, we enjoy the most beautiful campfire that anyone can recall seeing on a reconnaissance mission...