Huh? What?

It has come to my attention that our dear readers may be confused as to why team Gobi or Go Home is split between two islands in the Atlantic ocean.

Hans being dapper and full of prestige booked a direct flight to London so as to hobnob with some old friends. I imagine at this very moment they are sitting around at a garden party debating the merits of the Davenports Tea Room in Cheshire versus that of Bea's of Bloomsbury over on Watling Street.

At that I scoff. I have decided that Iceland with its 23 hours of sunlight and its wild and remote nature and rough and tumble Viking past was best suited for a stopover prior to the rally. Oh, and Roberta's cousins just happened to be here so it is convenient.

For you dear readers, I encourage you to envision us in a training montage from any sports movie, prepping and hardening our bodies for the ordeal to come.

As you can see below, we are training very hard here in the harsh and unforgiving Iceland.