I recall having a Maths teacher when I was away at school. Taught me how to gamble. How to lay odds, that kind of thing. He realised that I wasn't really interested in whatever-it-was that Pythagoras had to say, so he introduced me to probability - knowing full well that I'd need to get my maths up to scratch in order to do it right.

He brought me in an old dusty book - Lady Luck - and I was fascinated by it. He used to teach me to play poker, instead of that boring old algebra nonsense, during and after classes. If I'm holding a pair of Aces, what's the chances that you've got the other two - or are they still in the pack?

He never let me use a calculator though. He always insisted that I could use one to my hearts content when I left school but he'd only let me use one if I could prove that I didn't need it. I nother words, if I could do all the stuff in my head.

Sort of like a Bank. A Bank will only lend you money if you can prove that you don't need it.

I had a similar experience when I started working after leaving college. My Systems Manager, a shaven-headed psychopath from the Gorbals of Glasgow, used to whack me on the head with a ruler if he caught me doing stuff using point-and-click with the mouse. He insisted that I was only allowed to use point-and-click when I knew how to do it by hacking files first. In other words, when I didn't need it - only as a shortcut for doing things I could already do.

I'm off trail riding at AJP on Friday, and I've been poring over the maps to work out the routes and stuff. I started to hunt out my GPS unit - tiny wee thing about the size of a mobile phone - since it can give you an instant fix on where you are. I figured that I'd use this to record the route, so I can pore over the map later and try and stitch it all together in my head.

Fate had other ideas. She decided that she'd hide it somewhere and not let me find it. What she did let me find however, during the search, was a compass. This was Fate's way of smaking me on the head with a book.

"Learn to do it with the map and compass first", she's telling me. "Get proficient at that. Make sure you can get a position fix using only a map and compass. Then, and only then, will I let you find your GPS".

And she's right. It's not too hard to get a position fix usin a map and compass, but it's years since I did it. What you do is take two bearings - i.e. work out the direction to two separate landmarks - and draw these lines on your map. Wherever they cross, that's where you're standing.

I have less than a year (assuming I am doing the "Dakar-gentina". I thought I was quite clever coming up with that one - "Dakar-gentina", but check this out:

   Domain Name: DAKARGENTINA.COM
   Creation Date: 26-jan-2008

Somebody else thought of it first - round about the time that the Dakar moving to Argentina was first being mooted. You've got to be really quick off the mark with these domain names. Some guy in Holland - a dutch squatter. Nice picture on his site though:




Anyway, I've got less than a year for Dakar-gentina or I've got about 15 months until Transorientale. Regardless of which of these I do, I need to be able to navigate. There used to be a foolproof way of navigating in Dakar - follow Peterhansel. Everybody knew this. Stephane Peterhansel - who won Dakar 6 times on a bike and 3 times in a car. Count them.

Peterhansel knew it too. So what he did one time was to take a wrong turning and then stop with some pretend "mechanical problem". The dozens of people following him continued on - in the wrong direction - and he let them pass for a few miles before spinning the bike round and going the right way. That was one of the years he won.

Navigation is the key. It has to be instinctive. Knowing your compass heading at all times, where you are and where you're heading. There's enough to think about already without having to worry about navigating as well.

You can't rely on a GPS because you're not allowed a GPS. You're allowed a map and compass though, so I better get used to it. Worked for MacGellan I suppose.

Still nothing in the post from Dawn to Dusk. But, during the search for the GPS, I found my bag of sticky race numbers. In white - which is the perfect colour for sticking onto a shiny black PR3. This is an omen.

My ITM is in the Canaries this week having a break with the family. All sand and sunshine. Ironically, he'll be sick to the back teeth of both of them by the time he's done Heroes Legend.

Chief (blogs passim) is looking forward to his stint on the bikes on Sunday, up at the Midwest enduro on Sunday. As am I.

The Missus and I were talking about some of the questions I raised in my last blog. She feels quite stringly about it - especially the aid part. We thought it was kind of funny in a way that I am a sort of "test pilot" for the PR3 in one of the toughest enduros in the calendar. It will look pretty amusing on the start line - all these guys on their KTM 525s (which sit nearly a foot heigher than the PR3 mostly due to much larger wheels) and me lost somewhere in the middle. They'll laugh, and chuckle at the start line. Then when they see how nimbly she skips round the course - even with me in the saddle - they'll want to know more.

At least I won't get any of those "Patsy! Your 4x4 is driving away by itself!" jokes that I got in Morocco - I couldn't see over the windscreen and could barely pop my head up over the driver side window - imagine the Wee Yin trying to drive a Ford Mondeo and you'll get the picture. Gave the guys a good laugh, made me chuckle too.

I've always said that "it's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog". That's me. A Rottweiler in Chihuahua clothing.

Still, as I sit here with the maps splayed out over the floor it occurs to me. Another metaphor for life - if you don't know where you want to go then how will you know when you get there?

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