sand, sand and more sand

By the time we finish traveling each day, we are completely ruined and cannot bear to look at the bikes any longer. All we can find the energy to do is eat and sleep.

Every morning however, time is set aside for a detailed pre-ride inspection of the bikes. Encompassing mechanical, electrics and electronics; we usually end up with a small list of things to repair that have either broken or rattled loose on the previous day. The chains require oiling, and we check all fluids.

Keeping a strict maintenance regime is the only way that the bikes will continue to carry us safely through such a long period of sustained mistreatment.

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A somber start today, as we passed the scene of the bus accident yesterday that claimed the lives of 22 young children along with assorted adults and both drivers. There is nothing left of the bus except for the frame and the air is rancid with charred plastic and metal. One can only hope that they were killed by the impact or incinerated immediately.

We have just stopped for a rest after riding canted over at a forty five degree angle for the past two hours.

The wind is near gale force, and whips large swathes of sand across our path. Even crouched behind the screens, it tears the comms microphone away from your mouth and buffets the body.

The sand is as fine as talcum powder and finds every crevice. Despite wearing expensive helmets with double visors, the sand still coats the eyes with a gritty film that refuses to clear.

Refuelling for the Honda needs to be delivered through a special sand and water filter to prevent contaminants. The KLR's have in-tank filter units, and we hope that these will be sufficient to prevent issues with the fuel systems.

We have now entered the true Sahara, and are surrounded by berms of sand as far as the eye can see. It is absolutely desolate, broken only by a find ribbon of road that is partly obliterated by sand too. It races across the road making fantastic patterns and confusing the eye.

Stopping at one checkpoint, the officer scrutinises out passports and fiche carefully, before pronouncing Ty's photo to be "beautiful". It is already a difficult task, but fitting the helmet back on his head is going to be near on impossible henceforth. Unlike some of the grim visages at these checkpoints, this one is a cheerful soul and wisecracks merrily in French.

A little further down the track we come across a hole in the ground off to one side. Further investigation yields a real surprise, with a hole nearly fifty metres deep that plummets down to sea water. We are near the coast at the moment, but clearly the sea undermines the rock and sand considerably, as we can see water surging through the bottom of the hole. A quartet of young kids play perilously close to the edge, and are quite happy to pose for photos with us. Their tolerance for the edge of this monstrosity is much higher than ours, and we prefer to stand well back.

Continuous contact continues to be no issue thanks to James' InReach satellite communications unit. This is a great piece of kit, and the rest of us will certainly be buying one for next year's journey.

feeling guilty

We all enjoyed quite a comfortable sleep last night, even though it was freezing cold and blowing a gale outside. The tiny hotel where we stayed is perched on the edge of the Atlantic and the stream of wind feels more arctic than African.

When we emerged this morning, we noted that the hotel staff had not only covered the bikes, they had also assigned a guard to sit alongside them all night. The poor chap was huddled in a corner, wrapped to the gills, and sitting with is bottom half inside a large cardboard box. Only his eyes were visible, but they were stiff, sore and tired eyes. A small gratuity brightened him up, but I'm sure he will be feeling the effects of last night for the next day or so.

random photos from today

sad news

We have just found out that there has been a very large accident just a few kilometres south of us. A bus has collided with a gas tanker, killing 33 kids and other passengers in a huge fireball.

Sad as it is, one can easily see how this can occur. The region has one of the highest rates of road fatalities, losing ten people every day in accidents. Until they dramatically change their reckless overtaking practices, the death statistics are likely to continue.

Trucking also need to be regulated more thoroughly, with overloading prohibited. Some of the trucks carry loads that render them extremely unstable and dangerous. The photo attached to this post shows a truck we passed today that was in real danger of tipping over at the slightest provocation.

tan tan

We reached Tan Tan at last. Today offered the first glimpses of the real Sahara, with huge sweeping plains broken only by the occasional rocky outcrop.

The only way to describe this region is vast. I thought that my experiences driving throughout the Pilbara might be similar, but nothing could have prepared us for this lonely endlessness. The wind gusts and tears across the plains unimpeded by any landforms, causing the bikes to can't over at an alarming angle.

Even the bugs are on a grand scale, as Gary discovered during one rest break.

The military presence is evident everywhere now, and we have needed to provide passport and document fiche in order to continue.

There are two opportunities for accomodation this evening - the coastal settlement of Tan Tan or sleeping rough in the Sahara. Believe me, it's a tossed coin.

Tan Tan appears to have no reason for existence. It sits more than 250km from anything, anything at all. There is a military base nearby, and a couple of blocks offering rudimentary hotels, but very little else in the way of amenity. Groups of youths roam the streets, and the atmosphere is generally unfriendly. This is the first time that we have held some concern for the security of our bikes overnight, even though they are well-locked and secured.

Tonight we will just bunker down in the hotel and hit the road first thing tomorrow morning. Destination tomorrow is Laayounne, but the only coordinates we can locate are for the refugee camp so we will head there first and then ask where we can sleep for the night.

Laayounne, also spelled El-Aaiún, El-Ayoun, Aaiún, or Aiun, is about 8km inland. It was previously the capital of Western Sahara from 1940 to 1976 (when Western Sahara was known as Spanish Sahara). Since 1976 it has been the capital of the Laâyoune province of Morocco, but is not internationally recognized.

More photos to come later on tonight if we can get a stable wifi connection.

a Moroccan minute

James was down for the count this morning. Unfamiliar with this type of travel, he has been suffering for the past few days with mild medical issues and exhaustion. There is no magical cure for this, just a fistful of pharmaceuticals and rest.

To use the time, Ty Gary and I decided to go off-route to explore the Atlas Mountains this morning. They are less than a hundred kilometres from Marrakech and it seemed a shame to miss them when we are so close. The mountains are not as spectacular as many alpine ranges in Europe or the Americas, but are still impressive nonetheless.

Parking in a small village, we crossed small streams via rickety bridges before starting the climb up to the first waterfall. A local guide assured us that the first stage was very easy and only took twenty minutes. Clearly he was measuring in Moroccan minutes, because an hour and a half later, covered in sweat, we reached the first waterfall.

This location is popular with locals seeking to escape the oppressive dry heat of Marrakech in summer.

On the way back down, the guide (who spoke halting English) proudly showed us the most inaccessible cafe in the world. Clinging precariously to a cliff edge, it is indeed a full service cafe, with goods kept cool by storing them under a constant freezing spray from a mountain stream. Goods are brought in once a week by donkey coming over the mountain passes.

We were amused by the guide telling us about a group of French students who came to the Atlas Mountains to study the monkey species here. The students were currently holed up in a guesthouse wondering what to do, because every time they climb up towards them, the monkeys roll large rocks over the edges. Perfect self defence from prying eyes.

The guide and I concocted a cunning plan to offer them a special tour at 500 dirhams each to see the elusive Moroccan gorilla: Ty (see photo).

After returning to Marrakech, we collected James and set out to cover the 200km or so to Agadir. As we head further south towards Western Sahara we are definitely noticing an increased military presence, with frequent checkpoints and semi trailers carrying tanks and other heavy equipment moving on the road. Despite this, everyone we meet remains incredibly welcoming and hospitable. They are very solicitous and determined to ensure that we have a good impression of Morocco.

blending in

We have gone native in our dress to better blend in with the locals. It's up to the reader to decide how successful this.