I learn how to wave for help

Sunday 14 Jan (mileage 5 piste, 327 roads, total 2647)
I had thought about trying to make Keur Massene Lodge near the Sengal border in one day. The Mauritanian border opens at 8am, so I will need to be up at 7am to get there at the head of the queue. I don’t wake until 8am, so already it’s looking doubtful. Then the border formalities on the Moroccan side are endless. I go through the (slow) police check, then the customs check, then the ‘have you done the police/customs check’ and I thought I was through, but it appears not.

Almost through the Moroccan side

Now I have to wait patiently to be called by a clerk who is very slowly entering everyone’s details in a large ledger, so I decide to pass the time playing with the guard dog. The dog had obviously not had much company and was delighted to play fetch the plastic bottle.

The minefield

Finally I am through the Moroccan border and into no-man’s land, a five-mile stretch of track surrounded by a mine field. ‘Keep to the left’ was the advice I had read on HUBB and although there are a couple of sandy bits I am soon through to the Mauritanian side.

At last, the Mauri border

As expected I have to pay €10 for a three-day transit visa. The police ask for another €10 for completing an ‘honour’ form in which I promise not to sell the bike. I suspect this is a scam but pay anyway. Then I have to get border insurance, but surprise, surprise, the office doesn’t accept euros and I first have to buy ouguiyas at an exchange rate of 300:€1. I know I can get around 350:1 elsewhere, and in any case can pay for things in euros so I only exchange a minimal amount.

The clerk in the insurance shack is having a stand-up argument with his boss and this goes on for ages. An extremely fierce-looking Mauri in a turban winks at me as if to say not to worry. After more than 45 minutes the boss guy calls me outside and says there is a problem and I should buy insurance further down the road. I only wish he had said this earlier as by then I had spent a collective three hours negotiating the two sets of police, customs and assorted officialdom.

I head off into Mauritania and immediately notice a difference in the scenery. More sand, and some stunted trees, the first for 300 or so miles. There are many garden sheds dotted around and eventually I realise these are habitations. The nearest town in Nouadhibou, but it’s on another peninsular and going there entails a detour of 60 miles, so I carry along the iron ore railway featured in Michael Palin’s Sahara documentary, then head south on an excellent new tarmac road to Nouackchott, the capital of Mauritania, which is another 280 miles south.

Great tar, pity about the scenery

Some excitement, a bit of a hill

The tarmac road is monotonous and in places you can see the old piste running alongside the tarmac. Being a mug I venture onto the piste, do a u-turn for a photo opportunity and almost immediately bed down in the fine ‘fesh fesh’ sand beside the road. As any keen gardener will know, stones and other bigger objects tend to float to the surface, even through clay, and in this case the fine talcum-like sand had been covered with ancient sea shell fragments that looked exactly like the surface of the piste. By now it’s 28c with an extremely hot sun, and I struggle to get the bike out. I have a drink, lay the bike down on its side, fill the hole dug by the rear wheel with stones, lift the bike up onto the stones and try again. No use. After taking off the luggage I can drag the rear of the bike onto the old piste but the crash bars at the front at too high for me to use to lift. Bad design, make a note to write to BMW.

First collect some stones…

I need help. I wave at the first car and the driver waves back. OK, my wave could have been mistaken for ‘I’m fine,’ so the next car I cross my arms and wave, jumping up and down. Success. The driver and his wife come and help, and before long I’m zooming off again.

I fill up at a petrol station and can’t get my head around the ouguiya (UM) exchange rate. The attendant wants 6500 UM for 22.5 litres. I give him €22 and he gives me 900 UM back.

I eventually arrive at the Auberge Sahara on the northern outskirts of Nouakchott to find 28 English bikers in residence. I have caught up with Nick Sanders’ group who are taking what seems a fairly leisurely route to Timbuctou. There’s a mix of bikes from fully equipped BMWs, lighter and more suitable XTs, Nick’s R1 and someone on a scooter. As is usual with Nick’s groups there is a lot of discontent–not happy with the hotels, group too big, riding too fast/too slow, not enough food, etc. Two of the guys turned back before the Mauritanian border. It’s a funny sort of person who goes on these trips–not confident enough to tackle strange places alone, but happy enough to go with someone who has a reputation for leading tough tours.

Not exactly unsupported then

The exchange rate at Auberge Sahara is 340:1, still not as good as the 370:1 someone claimed to have got elsewhere, but still more than 10 per cent better than the border. The place is full and I take up the offer of a tent in the ‘garden’ for UM 1,700.

Tim

Interesting travellers on the road

Saturday 13 Jan (mileage 491 roads, total 2315)
Initially I was heading for Dahkla, but I’ve decided to try to get to Motel Barbas, some 80km north of the Mauri border. This will be a long day and my expectations are low. Probably a very boring road through unending desert scenery. So I pack before dawn and set off at first light.

Dawn breaks as I near Layoune

I stop for a coffee in Layoune, a modern town pretty much taken over by the UN ceasefire observers who seem to do nothing other than block-book the upmarket hotels and wizz around in their Land Cruisers and russian-made helicopters. I can understand the viewpoint of the original inhabitants but after more than 30 years the Moroccan occupation of what used to be Spanish Sahara is a definite fait accompli. Independence just isn’t going to happen and the UN would be well advised to go home and save taxpayers’ money.

Must be nice to work for the UN

Coming out of Layoune I see the Latvians packing their zebra car outside a hotel and stop to tell them their friends are a couple of hours behind them. Also on the road somewhere are the competitors in the Budapest-Bamako rally, so it’s a busy time. The only nationality not heading south, it appears, are the French, who have been put off my their government.

There was no traffic at that time of day and the road south of Layoune runs straight into the distance. A line of pylons marches across the hamada alongside the road. After twenty miles there is some excitement as I see a sign for a bend in the distance, but it is a very gentle curve that could have been taken at 200 mph. Five miles further on I overtake a lorry. Ten miles further on two donkeys are standing by the side of the road. Do I sound bored?

It’s iPod time and I select Alan Bown, a jazz/rock fusion group. Their ‘Stretching Out’ album is particularly appropriate as the vinyl cover from the 1970s features a guy with Goulimine beads round his neck.

There are police checkpoints every so often and I find myself looking forward to the next one. After some pleasantries, travellers are often asked for a ‘cadeau’ (gift), but my way of dealing with the checkpoints is to sell hello and exchange greetings in arabic, tell them I’m English, then switch to French to say how often I’ve visited, that I think the country is very beautiful and the people very friendly. You can almost see the struggle in their faces between the desire for money and the wish to show hospitality and I’m pleased to say hospitality always wins.

The checkpoint guards need to collect a great deal of information about those who pass; often this is not just name and passport number but also profession, name of father and mother, number of children, home address and so forth. I have this all prepared on a small ‘fiche civil’ that fits inside my passport and have more than 40 copies for the trip. The fiche system also saves having to leave one’s passport with hotel receptionists, which always frightens me in case I forget to collect it the next morning.

No prizes for guessing the reason for this

When you see accidents like this it’s rarely down to driver error and is normally component failure. There’s no such thing as an MOT in Africa and you will often see vehicles—and some public service buses—that have rear axles out of alignment with the front, so the vehicle runs along the road like a land crab.

Just after Lemsid I see a slow-moving bike in front which I rapidly overhaul. It’s a British-registered Honda C90 and I throttle back alongside and suggest we stop for a chat. Martin has travelled solo and unsupported all the way from Newcastle. He has a couple of 5-litre fuel cans to handle the long distances between petrol stations but otherwise is travelling extremely light. Initially he was managing a top speed of 55mph, but it’s now dropped to 45mph. Martin is on his way to Dakar so I might see him later. Martin used to have an 1100GS and we talk about the pros and cons of travel bikes. “This is nothing,” he says, “you’ll probably see a couple of Germans ahead on 50cc mopeds towing trailers.”

The hare and the tortoise

After I speed off into the distance on my intercontinental ballistic missile (I’m cruising at 85mph most of the time in this stretch), I ponder who’s the most adventurous of the two of us. The obvious answer is Martin, but if something goes wrong with his scooter he will easily find a remedy and if all else fails can put it in a truck somewhere, or dump it and only lose its £350 value. On the other hand I have the problem of protecting my valuable steed and definitely won’t be leaving it in the desert.

Shortly afterwards I see a lone cyclist wearing a beret. He has what look like onions strung round his neck so I presume he’s French. Carrying enough water is often a problem and I watch as I pass to make sure there are no ‘please help’ waves.

Boujdour has some remarkable entrance guardians

It’s about 150 miles to the next road junction, so I hunker down and let the bike eat the miles. Saint-Exupery comes to mind again; at one time he was a long-distance, high-altitude reconnaisance pilot and he wrote a book about his mind wanderings whilst alone in the cockpit. I think this was ‘Flight to Arras.’ Another book in a similar ilk is ‘Girl on a Motorcycle’, the daydreams of a girl on her way to visit her lover, naked under her leathers. It’s by a French author but translated into English and later made into a film staring Marianne Faithful. Hmm, maybe one to add to my biking DVD collection?

Added later–a link to the YouTube trailer of Girl on a Motorcycle

Plenty of opportunity for wild camping

One essential for long-distance riding is the handlebar throttle lock. Without it you have to constantly hold the throttle and after a few hours your hand is aching. With the lock I can do many things whilst riding, including riding no handed to write my journal. I muse about whether there is a Guiness records for the longest no-handed bike ride. This road must surely be the ideal location. The corners are so gentle it’s no problem to shift the body weight slightly to steer the bike. After another twenty miles I’m bored and come to the conclusion it’s a waste of time as I would need a witness for a record, so instead I sit on the pillion seat with the soles of my feet on the cylinder heads.

My first sign to Dakar!

Dahkla is on a 25-mile long peninsular so stopping there would involve 50 extra miles. It’s only 2:15, so I keep going. As the road veers inland the temperature abruptly rises to 26c, all to do with how far the road is from the cooling effect of the ocean.

Passing a petrol station I see the two German mopeds and stop for a chat. They have covered more than 6000km so far, starting from Hamburg in northern Germany on 6 December and are headed for The Gambia.

Shortly before reaching Motel Barbas, I come across a French-registered Honda Transalp towing a Suzuki offroad bike at a good 60mph. I run alongside but they seem to be OK, so I continue on at higher speed.

Motel Barbas is the only stopping place between Dakhlar 120km north and Noudhibou 20km south over the border in Mauritania. It proves to be an excellent stopping place and a single room is 100dh. I lend the two French bikers some tools to help dismantle the Suzuki’s top end. The problem appears to be the timing chain and the bikers seem resigned to towing it all the way through Mauritania and thence to Dakar. So only another 650 miles then!

Tim

Western Sahara

Saturday 12 Jan (mileage 3 piste, 266 roads, total 1824)
I set off just as the sun was rising, and ride through Goulimine, the ultimate destination of my first Moroccan trip in the early 1970s. Goulimine beads (glass trade beads) were in vogue and I had driven with friends over what was then the piste of the Tizi ‘n Test in a Series I Landy and ended up buying an amunition chest full of them. In those days the town was tiny with no modern facilities, now it has changed out of all recognition.

The famous glass beads of Goulimine

The road after Goulimine runs parallel to and 15 miles from the Atlantic, and I enter a damp cold sea fog that lasts for the next 65 miles. It is iPod time and I listen to ‘Breaking Glass’, the saxaphone blasting soundtrack to the film staring Hazel O’Connor which, for Trivial Persuit fans, was produced by the late Dodi Fayed.

Coming the other way are convoys of military-looking olive drab pickups with canvas backs. But they are not military and when I next fill the tank I see the reason–they are buying the subsidised fuel in southern Morocco and selling it further north. With each truck holding probably 2000 litres in the pickup bed, a convoy is the equivalent of a petrol tanker. There is no ‘san plomb’ petrol below Tan Tan so I filled up with the subsidised leaded petrol at less than 40p per litre.

I’m short to be riding a 1200GS Adventure, especially off-road when you need to dab a foot occasionally. My solution is to fit a special low seat for trips involving off-road travels, but with an ‘AirHawk’ inflatable saddle on top. When riding on roads I can increase the pressure and raise the overall level to a commanding position to see over the tops of cars, and when I need to I can deflate it without demounting. The AirHawk is also more comfortable than the standard seat, and I add a few more puffs of air to the saddle before setting off again.

Past Tan Tan Plage (El Quatia) the road runs by the Atlantic with wonderful views.

One of the problems riding in Africa is the omnipresent sun, especially when constantly riding into it when heading south as I am. I am using Pampers ‘Sunnies’ sun screen wipes intended for babies which don’t sting the eyes and are a total UV block. Nevertheless I still need a buff over my lower face to protect the skin from drying and I regularly use lip balm. And this is in winter.

Goffre d’Akhfennir, a natural sea grotto

I bypass Tarfaya, noting the sign to the Saint-Exupery museum for the return trip. Antoine de Saint-Exupery was a test pilot, then in the 1920s and 30s an early pioneer of the air mail service that linked the various west african Fench colonies, and used to feature on the back of the old 50FF note.

My final destination for today is Le Roi Bedouin (Bedouin King) campsite run by Luc and Martine. It’s three miles off the road in the middle of nowhere next to a sebjet, a depression flooded in times of rain, fed from a calcified waterfall.

Calcified waterwall in the foreground with Le Roi Bedouin in background

I rent a ‘bungalow’ for 50 dh (£3.50) and pay an extra 15 dh for sheets, blankets and pillow. During the day a wind turbine takes advantage of the constant wind from the sea, topping up the batteries for nighttime lighting. Martine does a mean camel and date tajine–highly recommended. Any leftovers are fed to the goats, who return the favour by producing goats cheese.

There’s a group of three guys in a 1.2-litre something who are driving in the Plymouth-Banjul rally. The rally rules involve not paying more than £100 for the car and this one looks well used. They are looking for some other cars in their group and I tell them I had seen one of them earlier, a Latvian-plated Audi painted in black and white zebra stripes.

Tim

Momentum is your friend

Friday 11 Jan (mileage 4 piste, 367 roads, total 1537)
It is just 4c when we leave Bikershome in the morning. Looking at my schedule to meet Irene in Senegal it becomes obvious that Steve and I will have to part company. He decides to head north, but the new road over the High Atlas to Demnate is closed through rock falls, so I show him the piste from Ouarzazate airport that leads to Ait Benhaddou and then to the Tizi ‘n Tichka, and we part company. Steve is a great travel companion and I have really enjoyed our short time together.

The High Atlas in the distance

Rather than retrace my steps to the centre of Ouarzazate I decide to take a shortcut to the main road. I am renowned for my shortcuts, many of which end in ignominy. As does this one. I am following a cycle track through irrigated fields and am only 200m from tarmac when the track crosses a muddy water-filled irrigation ditch. It is about a foot deep and about three feet wide, and to make it worse, the track crosses the ditch at an angle of 45 degrees.

A cyclist would undoubtedly dismount and carry the bike over, but my GS and luggage weigh 300+ kilos so that option is out. So humming the refrain to the well-known offroad rider’s ditty, “Momentum is your friend, you can never have too much momentum”, I launch at the ditch with predictable results.

I lift the bike by standing with my back to it and using leg muscles, quite impressive considering I am up to my ankles in slippery mud. I try launching again and drop the bike on the other side, this time into the ditch. Ted Simon had it right when he wrote in Jupiter’s Travels, “I wondered who would come to my rescue this time,” and sure enough four locals fairly sprint to my assistance and together we get the bike over the ditch.

Right, no more offroad today. I switch on the iPod and listened to the various ‘Yes’ albums as I head south.

The quickest road to reach the Tarfaya area is one which I had travelled on only three months before with Andy Shortridge—via Foum Zguid and on to Tata. In October we found the 40c heat oppresive, but today it is cool and sunny, beautiful riding weather, and I find the road much more interesting than before. I visited the Tissint waterfalls and gorge.

Tissint gorge

After about 200 miles I come to a sign that reads Dahkla 1247km.  Dahkla is the last major town heading south through Western Sahara before the Mauritanian border.

I am making good progress and stop at the station thermale (hot springs) at Abaynou near Goulimine. Reading the description in the Rough Guide to Morocco I envisage something like Hampstead ponds–pools surrounded perhaps by palm trees and bull rushes, steam gently rising from the waters.  The reality is two indoor swimming pools circa 1960, one at 26c for women and another at 38c for men during the day and mixed bathing in the evening. I soak for an hour or so then go back to my room to do the laundry.

I’ve been using technical clothing with anti-bacterial compound. But although clothes are still nose-fresh after two days of wear, the unburnt hydrocarbons from diesel fumes and the trail dust mean the water is an unpleasant dark brown, even after several rinses. Just as well the clothes are black!

Tim

North to Bikershome

Thursday 10 Jan (mileage 35 piste, 113 roads, total 1166)
We extract our bikes from the ‘garage’ at Dar Raha and mount the luggage.

Getting the bike out over the step is difficult

On the way north from Zagora, Steve befriends a donkey owner and is soon admiring his panniers made from recycled tyres. You can see his Steve’s train of thought—cheap to produce, weather-proof, practically crash-proof, with the added advantage of catapulting the bike upright again in the event of a spill.

The 2008 GS product of the year?

We leave the donkey derby behind, and from Tansikht take the piste heading north west towards Adgz.

I had done this piste before, but in the Navara Outlaw 4×4 coming in the other direction, so it is still fairly new to me. There are many villages on this route and we come across road building equipment at the end of the piste, so it may soon become tarmac.

After lunch at Agdz we head north on another piste. Initially this is another smooth beaten-earth surface with swooping berm-lined bends, but turns into loose stone sections, then eventually the piste takes us down some hair-raising stony harpin bends into the sand and fine grit of the Draa river bed. A real ‘something for everyone’ piste. After passing the cascades, the piste back to the main Agdz-Ouarzazate road is very easy.

On the Tizi between Agdz and Ouarzazate

Bikershome at Ouarzazate has a full house with our arrival, with two couples driving 4x4s and an Australian who has hired an XR250 bike from Peter. Peter is away guiding a group, but Zineb soon has a massive spread ready for the hungry hoards. Over dinner Annette, an experienced 4×4 racer, opined that next year’s rally might be in Libya. That would be interesting.

I went through all my luggage working out what I could leave behind and pick up on the return through Morocco. Obviously much of the cold weather gear, some of the food packs and gas cylinders for the Jetboil. I also took off the handlebar muffs and gouchos that had been so essential further north.

Tim

Moroccan ergs and hammada

Tuesday 8 Jan (milage 26 piste, 194 roads, total 924)
Steve is riding a Honda Transalp and we headed out from Hotel Said in the direction of the erg (sand sea), avoiding some of the mad 4×4 drivers racing across the hamada (rock desert).  We had been told about an Italian-owned hotel that had been ruined by floods.  The owners had been warned not to build in that particular spot which is known to the locals as ‘the mouth of the snake.’  Foum–the arabic word for mouth–is sometimes used to describe a river mouth meeting the sea (as in the English ‘Aber’ prefix), but is also used to describe a river coming out of a confined space such as a canyon and spreading out on a plain, as in Foum Zguid and Foum El Hassane.  So building Riad Maria in a place called Foum El Hench–mouth of the snake–should have set warning bells ringing. 

In June 2006 very heavy rains in east and south-east Morocco killed six people.  Merzouga–in what is regarded as a semi-desert region–had 105 mm of water in two hours, and a wave of water over two metres high descended on the Riad Maria, with the results shown.  The rains were so effective that the water table for the entire region is now only two metres below ground level.

Riad Maria after the flood

Riding on, we come across the result of one of the 4×4 races, dismounting just in time to hear the guide telling the unabashed driver, “L’accident n’est pas couvert par l’assurance” which roughly translates as ‘this is going to cost you big time mate’.

Plonker with camera

We are headed for Hotel Jasmine, at 24 years the oldest of the 70-plus hotels in the Erg Chebbi area.  It has probably the most commanding position in the dunes with a lake by the side and birds singing in the trees.  In the distance are two camel caravans and a very experienced biker riding directly over the dunes.  Not on a GS, mind.  The rate is 300 dirham half board, so I will probably stay there on another trip.

The view from Hotel Jasmine terrace

We try various ways to reach the piste round the back of the erg, but found it too sandy for fully-laden bikes.

Steve surveys the route of the 2006 Dakar Rally

We head back via Desert Inn, another of the older hotels, then take the very fast piste to Rissani.  We are generally riding at 55 mph, and for a few seconds I take the bike up to 75 mph to get an appreciation of the speeds at which the Dakar cmpetitors ride. Frightening!

During a nuss nuss (coffee) pause in Rissani I get another text from Adrian saying he is now on the ferry back to Spain.

Mares’ tails in the sky are a sign of continuing good weather

Normally if heading west from the Erfoud area I would take the road via Tinerhir and the gorges of the Todra and Dades to Ouarzazate, but this time we go via Alnif to Zagora.  The scenery is far better than the northern route and I would take that route again. On the way we pass the start of the special stage used in the 2007 Dakar.

I remember getting stuck in the Navara Outlaw in the river bed to the right

Steve has booked Dar Raha in Amazraou just to the south of Zagora and it proves to be an excellent choice as we chill out enjoying beer and peanuts on the roof as the stars emerged.  One of the planets is visible which I later learn is Mars.

Dar Raha: highly recommended

Wednesday 9 Jan (mileage 64 piste, 83 roads, total 1073)
We are staying at Dar Raha for two nights, so we plan an offroad route that runs from Zagora to Beni Zouir, but we aren’t paying attention and end up heading north east instead of north west.  Never mind, let’s see where this goes. 

Great piste

I’ve never been happy with sand riding so I take the opportunity to improve my skills.  When you reach a sandy section the general idea is ‘slow in, power out’. The power lifts weight from the front tyre to prevent it digging in, and provides traction to the rear.  It’s all very well being told this, but it takes nerve to do, so I practice on small sections, then bigger, then bigger still. After a while I have it and am powering through without problems (just as well for I will really need these skills for Sénégal).

Then I realise we were heading towards a tizi (pass) where I had problems on an earlier trip—a chock full of football-sized boulders in a gorge with no alternate route.  Oh well, at least I don’t have luggage on this time!  But when we get there, the boulders are gone, which goes to show you can never predict what a piste will be like.

Steve halts by an old guy sitting beside a shelter optimistically described as a tea shop.  One of the women washes out glasses then dries them on a pretty bit of cloth that’s been sitting on the ground.

Oh well

I have a few phrases of Arabic, some words of Berber and fairly good French but Steve doesn’t need any of these to communicate and manages well with a calm, soft-spoken English.  The two women have a variety of fairly worthless coins they want to trade, including some pre-euro French and an English 10p piece.  Steve sets about buying the 10p from them and you can see the panic in their faces.  How do they know whether he was about to cheat them out of an extremely valuable coin? 

High finance in the desert

Eventually Steve persuads them to accept 2 dirham (15p), and the two teas cost another 4 dirham.  I am also feeling generous and offer 3 dirham for a pitiful attempt at a necklace secured at the back with a button, but am turned down. 

Back on our bikes we need to find a piste headed north.  We can see one on the GPS 36km further on, but I follow a faint trail through an oued (river) bed and it turned out fine.  Initially. 

The piste divides into two.  We explore the start of one fork, then go back and take the other.  think we made the wrong choice, this is obviously the moped trail as it gets progressively narrower and I realise the well-defined vehicle tracks have been those of 4x4s going up our fork and then turning back.

Our moped piste

We rejoin a vehicle piste heading towards Tarhbult which is an extremely boneshaking track over rock slabs.  After a section on godron (Fr: tarmac) to Tansikht we take another piste running south towards Zagora.  This was a real Jeckell and Hyde piste, initially hard-packed earth with beautiful swooping corners with high berms to aid cornering, but later on there are some real technical stone sections. 

Passing a marabout

At one stage I am leading, with Steve out of sight, and the piste forks with a high road going through a village, or so I thought.  It ends up being a dead end and by the time I retrace my steps I can see Steve’s tyre tracks in the piste.  So now he is in the lead, probably trying to catch me and there is a jolly chase until he realises and stops.

When we got back to Dar Raha I had a text from Billy saying they had been in Zagora the previous night (just a couple of miles away from us) and were now heading for Rissani where they were planning to camp. 

Tim

Spain and Northern Morocco

Saturday 5 Jan (135 miles)
Arranging to take the early morning flight to Spain was a mistake.  The only way I can get to Gatwick airport in time for the check-in is to take the last train up the night before.  This arrives around midnight and I look for somewhere to kip until check-in opens.  I only have about an hour of dozing in total but once on the plane manage to grab a row of three seats and sleep for another 90 minutes.

It is my first flight into Málaga since the days of Franco and the mountains around Málaga have a light dusting of snow.  As the aircraft banks over the sea just before landing you can see the Moroccan mountains near Al Hoceima some sixty miles further south.  After a short taxi ride from the airport I arrive at the Ibis Hotel to rendevzous with Billy Ward and the Biketruck. 

Billy unloading the truck

The odometer on unloading the bike is 29350. Before long Adrian, Simon and I are headed for Algeciras. We arrive just in time to take the 1330 ferry to Tanger and after some ridiculous quotes settle on €52 each for bike and rider from one of the travel agents (not the ferry desks).   Passport control is handled on the boat, when we dock Tanger is heaving with a massive queue of cars and motorhomes waiting for customs, not just from our boat but from two or three earlier ones. We ride to the front of the queue (as is the right of all bikers), and find the reason for the tailback is that the customs officers have totally run out of the green temporary importation forms. Someone eventually arrives with some fresh pads of forms but with everyone trying to get their forms signed by the roving officers we are getting nowhere until we move the bikes to the exit area and block one of the lines of traffic. We then have express service and are on our way, leaving the mayhem and hundreds of vehicles behind at the port. We have a short run down the coastal motorway to Asilah where we stop overnight at Hotel Zelis. Our plans are then to spend the next night in Azrou, then head down to Er Rachidia to intercept the Dakar.

Billy’s group were crossing to Ceuta, then heading for Er Rachidia via Chefchaouen and Fes, but we receive a text message from Billy saying he’d been told the eastern section of the Atlas was impassable and that they are heading for Marrakech. There is often a great deal of misinformation in Morocco, and to get an on-the-spot report I phone Nathan, a friend in Azrou, who says although there has been snow falls a couple of days ago all the roads have been cleared, so we decide to continue with the original route. We have a meal in the open air under the ramparts of the old Portugese fort, then an early night to catch up with sleep.

Sunday 6 Jan (333 miles, total 468)
Get a text from Steve early in the morning saying he had been stuck in snow for a couple of days but is now heading for Rich. My guess (which turned out to be right) was that he had been in the Imilchil area of the High Atlas.

Adrian, Simon and I left Asilah at 0900 and take the motorway to Kénifra. We are stopped at a petrol station when a group of Portuguese Dakar competitors and support vehicles arrive. Having gone to the expense of preparing their vehicles they have decided to do their own thing in Morocco. We have a chat about the Rally cancellation and they say it would have been very difficult to reorganise the rally with more Moroccan stages to replace the Mauri ones due to the large amounts of rain in the eastern part of Morocco.

After Kénifra we head south from Sidi Yalla on a lovely road through the Forest of Maamora, then lunch at Khemisset. The original plan was to head south then east through the Jbel Mouchchene mountains but it was getting late so we decide to head straight for Azrou. There is a lot of traffic on the main N6 road to Meknes, so we take a rural road (R402) south east to El Hajeb which turns out to be much quieter, quicker and also great scenery. The only problem in places is that manhole covers have been salvaged for their scrap value and replaced with old tyres!

Just before Azrou Adrian’s 1200GS takes a poorly turn with what sounds like fuel starvation. I take off the fuel controller cover but can’t see any water or other sign of problem. We are less than five miles from the hotel so I go off to find something to tow with. It was dark by the time I return with a cable and meet Simon already towing Adrian along the road. Some local children have seen the problem and have kindly donated a rope. When we arrive at the Hotel Panorama Adrian tries the bike again and perversely it starts and runs cleanly.

Adrian (left) at Hotel Panorama

We head into town, find an cybercafé, log on to UKGSer and HUBB (Horizons Unlimited bulletin board) and describe the problem. The collective advice received within just a few minutes is that it is likely to be the fuel pump controller and we note down the details of a hread on AdvRider site on how to bypass the controller.

Monday 7 (2 miles piste, 230 miles tarmac, total 702)
I exchange texts with Steve and arrange to meet at Hotel Said in the Erg Chebbi area near Erfoud. The three of us set off from Azrou but within just a few miles Adrian’s bike starts exhibiting the same fuel starvation problem. We discuss bypassing the controller but Adrian is concerned that if we continue south and have further problems he will not be able to get back to Spain in time to rendezvous with the Biketruck for the return to the UK. So he decides to limp back to the Panorama and set about finding a ‘man with a van’ to take the bike back to the ports. We discuss between us how much it might cost; Adrian thinks £300, I suggested it might be done for as little as £50, though perhaps this will prove to be hopelessly optimistic. The weekly market is the next morning and I suggest trying to find an empty lorry headed north.

Adrian and Simon are keen for me not to miss the meeting with Steve, so with reluctance I leave them and continue south on the N13, climbing up through the snow-covered cedar forest. It is cold but otherwise a beautiful day with high pressure, deep blue skies and a warm sun.

The plateau to Timahdite is deep snow. South of there the road goes through a cutting in a range of hills at Foum Kheneg. By now it is close to noon. I remember from previous winter visits that there’s often a severe temperature difference here. The temperature gauge on the bike is reading 4c and I watch in amazement as in the next 800 metres it plunges to minus 7c, a drop of 11c! On the southern side of the range of hills all the streams are frozen solid. Goodness knows what the overnight temperature had dropped to.

It wasn’t until I reach the 2200m Col du Zad that the warmer air to the south lifts the temperature. The descent down the wide cedar-lined valley to the arid hamada is one of my favourites in Morocco. Three English bikers are stopped by the side of the road and I halt for a quick chat. They are participating in Nick Sanders ride to Timbuctou, going through Mauritania to Mali.

The snow finally cleared south of Midelt where I stop for some soup

The three on Nick Sander’s tour sweep through the mountains

Late afternoon I reach Erfoud and head out towards on Erg Chebbi on a deteriorating tarmac road. Shortly after it turned into piste I reach Hotel Said where Steve had already arrived.

Over the evening meal Steve recountes his experiences of the last few days. Having been told the weather forecast was fine, he was riding the piste from Midelt to Imilchil when it started to snow quite heavily. There are a handful of auberges on the piste but Steve rightly concluded that if he stopped he would be snowed in until it thawed–snow ploughs can’t clear the uneven pistes–so he continued on until he hit tarmac again at Imilchil and stopped at the auberge on Lake Tislit Bride where Andy Shortridge and I stayed in October. The snow continued that night and the next day. The hotel is extremely basic, there is nothing to read, the TV aerial had been blown over by the winds, so all Steve could do to pass the time was improve Rachid’s English. It wasn’t until the third day that a plough arrived and cleared the road.

Steve’s bike at Tislite Bride Hotel.  Looks very pretty though!

Just before turning in I receive a text from Adrian saying his bike would be on a truck back to the ports the following morning.  It wasn’t as simple as getting a man with a van, it was necessary to find a truck which had a licence to transport vehicles.

Tim

Dakar Rally cancelled!

Following security problems last year with the Mali stages of the Rally, ASO (the Rally organisers) concentrated this year’s sand stages in Mauritania, with that country hosting eight of the fifteen stages.  In recent days, however, there have been security problems in Mauritania as well, with an attack on tourists in December and another–perhaps related–attack on soldiers.  

Despite the Mauritanian government pledging an additional 2000 troops and 1000 police to help maintain security, the French Foreign Ministry issued a warning strongly advising its citizens (who comprise 30 per cent of the competitors) not to enter Mauritania.  ASO today announced the decision to cancel the 2008 Rally, citing “direct threats launched directly against the race by terrorist organisations.” 

This must be a horrific blow to the five hundred Rally competitors who have each spent literally tens of thousands of pounds preparing for the event. 

It Looks like I need a new header banner!

This is what I have been using until now, showing Si Pavey, Matt Hall and Charley Borman at the start of the special stage on the fourth day of the 2006 Rally.

Morocco/Western Sahara will still be safe, but I’m assessing what this means to the Mauritania/Senegal sections of my trip, especially the plans to meet Irene in Dakar on 19 Jan.  At the moment the Foreign Office Advice for Mauritania is unchanged (other than noting the Rally cancellation). The coastal road through Mauritania is well away from the troubled areas of the country, and one possibility is to go ‘par convoi’ with a large group of other vehicles.  This isn’t a decision I can make at the moment, though, I need to monitor the situation as I travel south.  One thing is certain, I have a healthy regard for my personal safety!

I also had some other news.  Adrian was loading his bike on BikeTruck on the evening of 31 Dec when the tractor unit caught fire.  Fortunately there was no danger to the rear section carrying the bikes, and the emergency services arrived quickly and put the fire out.  Billy Ward and his co-driver made arrangements for a replacement tractor unit and reportedly crossed the Pyrenees 3pm on 3 Jan.

Steve made it to Azrou on 2 Jan reporting high winds and forecasts of snow, so was planning to move further south.

In the meantime I’m all set to take the latenight train to Gatwick where I can hopefully kip somewhere until check-in opens about 4am.  Some last-minute essentials threw themselves into my bulging tank bag when I wasn’t watching, including battery-operated speakers for watching DVDs on the notebook PC.  It’s tough being a traveller.

Tim

So many changes in a month

Today I should have been riding to Portsmouth with Martin to board the Bilbao ferry but so much has changed in the last month.  Martin’s had to ‘back out’ due to a reoccurence of a back problem, so I’ve decided to make the return date more flexible.  Rather than using the ferry I have sent the bike out to southern Spain with www.biketruck.com and will be flying to Málaga on 5 Jan to be reunited with it.

A second truck left several days earlier carrying the UK Dakar Rally competitors’ bike to Lisbon.

It was a weird feeling readying the bike for the pickup on 31 December.   I’ve really concentrated on packing small this time, but am still taking a JetBoil stove and five weeks supply of www.LighterLife.com food packs so I can continue my weight loss programme.  I’ve also packed a sleeping bag and exposure sack in case I get the chance to overnight in one of the Rally bivouacs. 

Anything else I remember to take from now on will have to come out on the plane with me.  I’ve left my helmet and jacket with the bike, and plan to fly wearing my biking trousers and boots.  My carry-on flight luggage will be the tank bag containing my diddy 12-in notebook PC and other modern-day ‘essentials’ such as Zumo SatNav, digital camera and my iPod.  And did I mention the cake of DVD movies?  I am still a packing failure!

What’s for sure is that there won’t be any shortage of company on the trip–January is a popular time for NW Africa.  Two of the other bikes on BikeTruck belong to Adrian Tamone–whom I know from Hewlett-Packard some 20+ years ago–and his son.  They are going to ride with me for three days until we reach Er Rachidia on the evening of 7 Jan. 

Steve Attwood is already on the road and reached Tarifa yesterday evening.  I’ll be meeting him at Er Rachidia and we are planning to watch the special stage of the Rally on the morning of 8 Jan, then ride west to Zagora which is the next night’s bivouac.  We might be able to watch the start of the special stage from Zagora, and afterwards will probably head further west.  

Steve has to return to the UK about the time that I start the ride south on 13 Jan, but I have an option to meet up with a Swedish guy called Patrick Kunosson who’s also riding through Western Sahara and Mauritania to Senegal.   And if that wasn’t enough, there’s Denis Robinson and a group from www.ukgser.com who are riding Honda C90s to Bansang Hospital in The Gambia.

Irene, my wife, will be flying out to Senegal on 19 Jan so she can see the finish of the Rally, then we’ll have a couple of weeks of winter sun together before she flies back and I start the long return journey back to the UK. 

My notebook PC is monitoring the temperatures for Eastbourne (currently 3°C), Fès (15°C) and Dakar (28°C) via Windows Vista weather feed gadgets.  The longterm forecast for the UK talks about winds from Siberia and temperatures similar to 1987 when it was -12°C.  So it looks like I chose a good time to be away then!

Tim

Rough plans are laid

The plan is simple, leave the UK winter behind and ride to Morocco to watch some of the Dakar Rally stages.  I’ve done this before (in 2006 and 2007) but this year I’m planning to continue south through Western Sahara and Mauritania to Senegal and watch the finish of the Rally in Dakar.

Martin Clark has booked five weeks off work so we will be loading our two lardy BMW 1200GS Adventures on the Portsmouth-Bilbao ferry on 2 Jan, and returning early Feb.  In between we should be covering 7500 or so miles. 

The Rally route has already been published on the www.dakar.com site and it looks like we can intercept it on 7-8 Jan near Er Rachidia and again on 8-9 Jan near Zagora.  There’s also the possibility of a third intercept in Morocco on 10 Jan at Plage Blanche near Goulimim.  The Rally then heads through the sand berm into Mauritania where we can’t follow, but there’s a chance of an intercept at Nouadhibou on 14-15 Jan.  The final stage on 20 Jan finishes at Lac Rose near Dakar.

The initial preparations are quite simple–no carnets are needed and the only visa required is Mauritania which can be obtained on the border.  Senegal insists on a Yellow Fever injection but I have this already. 

So dust off the packing list from previous trips and start crossing things off (I am a packing failure and am notorious for taking too much stuff).  The pic below shows my bike setting off on last year’s trip–little wonder it failed to float over the sand!

Tim Cullis

PS: my previous Moroccan trip reports are on AdvRider
May 2007 – Stairway to Heaven
Jan 2007 – Sleeping beside the Bike in a Moroccan Riverbed
Apr 2006 – A Piste too Far
Jan 2006 – Carry on Dakar
May 2005 – Marrakech Express