IN THE late summer of 1972 Volvo in Sweden invited a number of European truck journalists to drive a convoy of Volvo trucks across part of the Sahara Desert in Morocco away from the coastal tourist centres. We were a mixed bunch, from the UK, Sweden, France, Germany and Holland, and most of us knew each other. The trucks, loaded to 48 tonnes with steel plate secured by welded straps, were specially prepared export models intended for markets in hot, dusty parts of the world, and as is usual with this type of event Volvo, on the basis that an editorial feature is worth far more than advertising, was hoping for some good editorial comment on the way the trucks behaved and coped with the conditions. This they certainly got because the trucks coped faultlessly with primitive roads, rocky scrubland and loose shifting sand where we had to drive in echlon because of the clouds of penetraing fine sand thrown up.
     In one area of loose shifting sand it was quite windy, and the bedrock route which wound across it could be covered by loose sand in a matter of minutes. If you strayed off the bedrock, as one driver did, you went up to your axles in loose sand. We had to tow him out with chains. We navigated by following the line of telephone poles erected by the Algerian army.
      As usual in climates of this type with clear skies, morning temperature was quite pleasant but them started to soar and during the middle of the day was up in the 90s Farenheit. It dropped gradually at first during the afternoon but as soon as the sun fell plummeted to around 34 degrees in a quarter of an hour. You were glad of an anorak.
     It took three days for the drive with overnight stops at the larger desert townships. One at which we stopped had a market the following morning so we all arranged to take the morning off. None of us spoke any arabic, but nearly all the Algerians spoke French, a hangover from the days when the country was controlled by France, so conversation with the stall holders wasn't difficult. As some were touchy about their pictures being taken - I gathered it was something to do with a belief that pictures took away part of their spirit body - I respected this and always asked before taking close shots. If they shook their heads or turned away I just said thank you and moved on, but most of them just smiled and said 'please continue'. I got there about 7 am by which time the market was in full swing. By 10.30 it was all over. I gathered that some people from outlying villages had started about 4 am and driven their pack-loaded donkeys or used commercial camel train drivers quite a few miles to be there by 6.30 when the market started.
      My other pictures were taken at various points on the route.All the pictures were taken with a Kiev 4A, the one without a meter, with the standard Jupiter lens, and I gauged exposures with a Leningrad 4 meter. I shot five rolls of Kodachrome 64, all I had with me, plus best part of a roll of Tri X. When I got the Kodachromes back I was surprised how much the colour balance of the light, particularly the sky, changed between early morning, late morning to mid-day and late afternoon. Possibly something to do with the UV content at different times of day. Some of the pictures suffered from flare from light reflected by the whitish sand even though I was using a good lens shade. I picked out 15 pictures to give a varied selection and thought they were worth putting on a couple of pages. Hope you enjoy them.