Man, machine, mystery, magic . . . Justin Hynes ponders the powerof the Dakar rally.
"It comes not along the road but down from the sky. A series of distant rumbles heralds a steady flow of cargo planes, among them a Hercules and three or four high-winged Russian Antonovs. Descending to the south of the town they bring in the rally keeping it as exclusive as any travelling circus, a self-sufficient unit isolated from any reliance on or interaction with the local people.
"A line of village children stand watching as if these people have come from Mars. They might as well have done. In almost every material respect they are different from the inhabitants of Tougadh - well-fed, prosperous, highly mobile, technologically sophisticated, multinational. Everything this part of Africa is not."
So Michael Palin, in his book, Sahara, described his encounter with the Dakar Rally as it swept in and out of the Mauritanian town of Atar.
It's a violent, screaming culture clash from the skies, the last vestige of French imperialism as the annual ultimate test of man and machine high-handedly employs Africa as its playground, tossing the severely underprivileged indigenous peoples crumbs from the perfectly chilled plates unloaded from a catering plane.
Each January it roars into and out of the desert like a sticker-clad Mad Max movie. To the politically correct the Dakar is an affront, the unspeakable in pursuit of, well, nothing - except the experience of a Odyssean challenge met, of the harshest of environments, toughest feats of endurance and cruellest eventualities conquered.
And the romance . . . a shimmering heat-haze of names redolent of mystery - Tangiers, Er Racchidia and the Great Erg, the western Saharan outpost of Tan Tan, and into Mauritania, from Tidjika to Mopti in fabled Dogon country, from the improbably named Bobo-Dioulasso, to the Malian capital Bamako.
Onward to Ayoun el Atrous, a name seemingly torn from the pages of a thousand Foreign Legion adventure yarns, to Nouakchott. And finally to Dakar itself, the vibrant Senegalese capital, and to victory. Or loss, or disaster, injury, even death. The Dakar has all this in spades.
It's the last great sporting adventure. As science gathers a greater grip on all sport, from the physical scuplting of and chemical interference in athletics, to the ever-shrinking margins for error in Formula One, and sport increasingly loses its ability to thrill, Dakar remains unquantifiable.
Defined by geography, detailed by conditions, shadowed by risk, only round-the-world yachting carries the same unpredictability. At least, it did. As 163 of the original 400 starters, just 41 per cent, lined up on Sunday for the formality of the final 27km stage from the Le Meridien Hotel to Lac Rose and back, unpredictability yielded to inevitability as Frenchman Stephane Peterhansel cruised home in 19th place on the stage to win the car category in his Mitsubishi, ending the event 49 minutes ahead of his team-mate and chief rival Hiroshi Masuoka.
After 11,364.5 kilometres, Peterhansel achieved a startling victory, becoming only the second man in the event's history, after Hubert Auriol, to win motobike and car cartegories.
He won on bikes an astounding six times before moving to four wheels and, after a year delay, dominated this year's marathon from the start, and in victory was even nonchalant.
"It's a great relief and a lot of happiness, that I share with my co-driver Jean-Paul Cottret," he said. "On a bike you're alone but this time we built the win together."
Not so nonchalant for motorcycle winner Nani Roma. The Catalan took his first Dakar win with unconcealed enthusiasm. "When I was little, my mother gave me a book on the history of the Dakar, from its creation to 1985. Every night I would read it," said the KTM rider. "I would have never imagined riding a bike one day, competing on a Dakar and winning it! It's amazing being a part of its history."
And the rider, who had suffered intense disappointment in 2000 when, after dominating all the way through, his bike blew up three days from the finish, paid tribute to Peterhansel.
"Peterhansel was my hero," he told the Dakar Rally website. "I remember 1993, during an enduro in Assen, when I took advantage of the fact he was in the shower to steal his t-shirt and socks. I still have them."
Two first-time winners, but no such joy for newcomer Colin McRae, the out-of-favour ex-World Rally champion, who was snapped up by the Nissan team for this year's Dakar. McRae proved he had the pace and skill to cope with the outlandish mix of terrain and conditions and admitted the Dakar bug had bit, viciously.
"For sure I'd love to do it again," McRae told the Scottish Sunday Herald at the weekend. "We've already started talking about how we can improve the car for next year. I see no reason at the moment why I should not return to drive for Nissan."
Nissan's rally consultant, Belfast veteran Fred Gallagher, agreed: "We've already started talks about next year. What Colin has proved in his first effort in the Dakar is that he has the speed and the patience to win.
"I know a lot of people thought we were making a mistake bringing Colin on board. A few thought we'd be stuck with a prima donna, but I knew different. I've known him for years and I knew he would be perfectly suited to the harsh demands of the Dakar.
"Colin's also endeared himself to the mechanics by rolling up his sleeves and getting stuck in with the guys who have had to repair his car when it has broken down. He's been an absolute star."
So McRae will be back. But the task will be huge. The Dakar may be no respecter of reputation, but preparation and experience are the keys to success.
Mitsubishi's one-two car finish again proved that the manufacturer has become king of endurance rallying, despite expensive and serious entries by both Nissan and BMW.
Drivers are dominating too. Peterhansel has given way on bikes to try four wheels, but in the truck category Vladimir Tchaguine, in a Kamazi, notched a fourth victory, adding to the ones in 2000, 2002, 2003.
While major manufacturers and name drivers dominate, the Dakar is still unpredictable enough for privateers to prosper. While the Mitsubishi of Masuoka was two hours ahead of his closest rival, Jean-Louis Schlesser raced the event in a self-built buggy.
Therein lies the romance of Dakar. Massive budgets, fleets of Hercules air freighters, satellite dishes, mobile phone boosters, hundreds of support vehicles, the event has its share of technological and financial overkill. But somewhere in the wilderness, say between Tjidika and Nemo midway through a 739km stage, as the sand storms swirl on the approach to the Well of Aratoue or the Rocher des Elephants, the world ceases to exist. The science fades, the support withdraws and you are alone, just you and an increasingly fragile machine.
Peering into the void. Thundering through the vast emptiness. Searching for glory.