Saturday 15th April 2006 Stage 6


My right leg became inflamed and started to swell overnight. It was obvious that infection had set in. The final stage to the town of Merzouga near the Algerian border was only 12 km. Anyone could do that. 8.5km of stony desert then 3.5 km of big dunes. Oh and it just so happened that the dunes were the Erg Chebbi the biggest dunes in Morocco! The temperature was a bearable 34C. The atmosphere was buzzing and everyone was ready for a sprint finish with very light packs. Everyone, that is, except Guy and me. Guy’s legs were very swollen and he had difficulty bending his knees. We agreed to accompany each other and persuaded Phil, with difficulty, to leave us and enjoy his run. For the first time I could detect a little jealousy in the eyes of Darren, Neill and Mark . It must have been so hard for them. At the start everybody sprinted off leaving about 30 hobblers at the rear. This was the first time that I had seen the dreaded camels that follow the race. If you are passed by them you are out. I was wishing I had brought some rat poison. We struggled over the flat pain and realised that the leaders would be finished before we were halfway over. A tribe of Bedouins with some tourists on camels stopped to watch us pass and they all hummed ’God Save the Queen’ as we went by. A strange experience. We must have looked an odd sight especially with the puss oozing through Guy’s bandages. At least it was keeping the flies off me. Eventually we arrived at a ruined mud village and I gave my last ’Go’ energy bar to a grateful kid. The dune stage was about to begin. I was getting even slower with my infected legs but was now certain I would finish so Guy moved on ahead. The dune section was a bit of a blur other than trying to follow the other’s footprints regularly sinking or falling into the soft sand but there was plenty of encouragement from passing officials on quad bikes. Suddenly and without warning I came over a dune and the finish line was at the start of a small town about 200metres ahead with an uphill finish. I decided to try and forget all the pain, put the poles behind me and sprint for the line. There were so many thoughts going through my head during that run between the pain I had been through and the support of others. I laughed at the thought of my mum hobbling along beside me. By the time I reached the final small rise I was staggering from side to side and blubbering like a child whose dog had just been run over. There was a fantastic reception with all the guys from tent 87 cheering. As I crossed the line I couldn’t speak for about 2 minutes. Patrick Bauer was presenting me with my medal and asking me if I wanted a doctor. I could only blubber I was happy. There were about 3 TV cameras in my face and I felt a total twerp. Eventually I calmed down and I was given a packed lunch and a bus ticket back to Quarzazate!
By the time I got on the bus both legs had swollen to twice their normal width and I could not get my shoes on. I am certain, had the race continued for 2 more hours, I would have had to quit. A long and painful 6 hour bus journey followed back to the hotel where I could only get to my room by being pushed on the porters trolley. I didn’t even have time for the long promised beer as I had to get a bath and get to Doc Trotters at the French hotel before 8.00pm. I could hardly drain the bath because of the sand in it. I looked in the mirror and saw I looked a total mess. Ron wheeled me to a taxi and chummed me to the Doctors sacrificing his own beers. The doctor’s warned me that as a bit of bone had been exposed on my foot I could be in for a very serious infection. My feet were dressed and I was pumped full of anti-biotics and pain killers. A substantial meal followed but disappointingly I could only manage a few beers. My body was totally wasted. Darren was able to get a signal on his phone so I phoned home. My family had seen on the internet that I had finished and said that my mum knew. They also warned me that she was very ill.