Synopsis: After three decades with another brand, this was the first trip in my new Mercedes G-Wagen, and a return to the Algerian Sahara after a 10 year absence. The Merc had just cruised through an uninhabited 560-mile desert sector seeking long-disused French tracks, and had reached Tamanrasset.
It was the maps’ fault, of course. Isn’t it always? Twenty-three days and 2,900 miles after leaving home in the U.K., crossing France, the Mediterranean (there was a ship for that bit), Tunisia, and a reasonable chunk of the desert—all without serious incident—I was now fed, watered, showered (filmed, too, as it happened), and perusing the cartography for the return north.
The Mercedes had conducted itself in a sober, reliable, remarkably economical way, and its smooth, well-equipped driveline conferred a degree of…
