We leave early the following morning, the hotel security guard clearly sniffing around for an unwarranted "tip". It's more than a thousand metres above sea level here, and I have to wear my fleece until the sun rises, at which point the temperature rockets and I'm soon sweating. The road is possibly even worse than before. Patrik has seemed an independent, self-sufficient, type, and has said that this trans-Africa crossing has been a dream of his for a while, but I decide to offer to share the driving just for manners' sake. I'm surprised when he immediately accepts. I haven't done much driving for years, and certainly not in a Landrover locked in 4WD on a bumpy, skiddy surface, which becomes apparent just seconds into my stint when an overenthusiastic burst of acceleration sends us slewing
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