Last night both of us had nightmares about sand dunes, bogs, big rocks suddnely appearing in the beam of our headlights and running out of fuel. Leaving camp around 0700 today we could easly see the tracks we should follow. Tracks that were impossible to find in the dark yesterday. After driving a few more kilometers we came across a Hungarian van stuck in a deep sandy area. They had been stuck for one and a half day and were completely overrun with apathy. Paul and ourselves are now becoming masters of getting outing of bogs, and we easily dug them free and houled them out with our snatch strap in five minutes. 

Continuing on we got to the hardest crossing of this stage, a two kilometer wide dried out river bed covered in soft soup-like sand and tall vegetation. It didn´t take long for the Hungarians to get their low van stuck again, and we quickly realized we were becoming the rescue vehicle of the day. As of now we have lost count of how many times we have dug, pushed and hauled the Beetle loose, whenever the wheel tracks get to deep to support it. A 1,3 liter engine is not recommended for desert crossings. Half way through the river bed and our window of daylight the Beetle failed to start after choking the engine. An hour or two was spent on trouble shooting, changing air filter, spark plugs and intense pondering. Still no start and the car was pronounced dead. 

A final decision was made, and Sebastian and Johan headed on with the Phoenix (the only car which hadn´t been stuck yet)and the Hungarians to cross the river and drive the last 100 km to get help. We made sure that Paul had enough water, food and shelter to survive by the car for at least four days, not knowing when we would return. After an emotional farewell we drove off, simply not believing that the organizers of the Budapest-Bamako had created this route for the adventure category, well knowing that lots of two wheel driven cars participating. The entire rally and support trucks are now two days of driving away. 

Crossing the river was luckily not a problem for us, but the Hungarians got their van stuck on the riverside. Sebastian helped them loose, and we showed them a safer crossing. Well on the other side we spotted a big truck in the distance. We drove as fast as we could to intercept it, and managed to get the drivers attention. We stopped, greeted and explained our problem of a small car stuck in deep sand with a dead engine, 6 km away on the other side of the river bed. 

Ali, the truck driver quickly decided that he would leave his truck to come with us and assess the situation. If the path was good enough he could bring his truck over and tow it out. We drove back and Ali had a good look at the Beetle engine. Truck drivers in this area of the world know more about mechanics, sand and car rescue than any Dakar expert. Just by chance we discovered a poorly connected ground cable causing the starting problem. After letting some air out of the tires the beetle could be pushed, dug and hauled for an entire hour across the riverbed with the help of us, the Phoenix and Alis expertise. 

Overwhelmed with joy by the sight of solid ground we said goodbye to our new Moroccan friend, and towed the Beetle northwards over the desert plains. Racing against sunset we were doing our best, Johan hanging out of the side window screaming directions to Sebastian in the fading daylight. Contrary to all our effort, the Phoenix does not like to tow a dead car through unstable, soft terrain. The towing rope snapped two times, and when darkness came upon us for the second day in a row, morale was very low among the three of us. 

On the GPS map we could see a truck path leading to safety only 1,2 km away, but we were unable to cross the vegetated dunes between us and the path. Feeling desperate we stared at the lights of occasional trucks passing close by, knowing that we could never get there. Just before moon down we had no other chose than to cross the plain 7km in the opposite direction to search for another truck path on our map. An hour later we managed to reach it and intercept another big truck. Paul decided to let the beetle be towed 40km north-east to the nearest tarmac and village Rissiani for repairs, while the two of us headed north-west in an attempt to reach tarmac road near Mcissi. 

Finally, at one o´clock and after a thrilling decent from the mountains on small rocky paths in complete darkness we found what we had been hoping for. Solid, black, flat tarmac. We have never been so happy to see something that simple. 

Now we are in a hotel in Anif, a small village just north of the desert. We found fuel for the Phoenix, food for us and a nice host to shelter us for the night. Tomorrow morning we will visit an Internet cafe, publish this and yesterdays articles and head west through Morocco on tarmac roads to catch up with the race. 

At seven o´clock in the morning we received a message from Paul saying the following: 
"Took tea and bread with the truck drivers, then Beetle driven onto back of lorry, via a ramp. Slept at the house of a friend of the truck drivers next to the mechanic. Glad to hear you hit tarmac OK, bon chance. Hope all is well with you. Paul."