FRIDAY PM 02 FEB 01             PLYMOUTH - ROSCOFF

I finally got to bed at 1 am. It’s not that easy to pack a bike. It’s a process of elimination, all done with military precision. What seemed like a 1000 items that yesterday covered my living room floor has now been stowed into every compartment, every stowage place has been carefully exploited. I remember leaving last September for my tour of Europe thinking that packing a bike was a simple affair and after only 50 miles we found our selves in a petrol station for a hour totally repacking the bike. Remember our fire on the Autobahn of Germany caused by a canvas tank bag dropping onto the exhaust manifold which dully ignited and burst into flames as we where travelling at 80 mph, giving the visual impression we had been a victim of a spitfire attack. 

Friday night I said a farewell to my friends with a final drink on The Barbican, Plymouth Harbour. Even Steve Leach the Hermit attended (my mechanic), and that is the first time he has been out since Christmas. After one pint I heard him say to his wife we must do this more often. If it takes a Sahara crossing to get his wife out, I pity her.

We left and headed to the Ferry Port (Brittany Ferries) were we met by Steve who is the PORT OPERATIONS MANAGER. After a few pleasantries we where waved onto the ferry. Nothing impressive about that I hear you say, except that he had waited for us to arrive so he could ensure we where first on the ferry.

Ferry Crossing

SATURDAY 03 FEB 01            DESTINATION BORDEAUX  (330 MILES)

At 8.00 am I departed the ferry in Roscof, France. First off as it happens, thanks to Steve (Brittany Ferries). I had a Plan for the day, which meant driving all-day and arriving at Bordeaux no later than 4 pm. This is so unlike me! Normally, my plan is to get from A to B as fast as possible irrespective of distance. I have driven many a time to the Czech Republic a distance in access of 1100 miles and without a serious break, and being so tired at the end of it that I have slept for nearly twenty-four hours. So what’s changed, I hear you say? I recently traveled to CW motorcycles Dorchester to see off TED SIMON on the start of his around the world trip and when I was there I met a couple of over Landers “Simon and Bridget”, who had just return from Eight years traveling the world on a BMW 100GS. I asked him had any tips for me prior to my around the world trip. His reply was “ LIVE FOR TODAY” he said, he spent the first two years of his eight years away, PLANNING FOR TOMORROW, before he realised he was ignoring things he should see and do that day. 

 So where was I? Yes my Schedule. I have decided my daily routine would be on the road by 9.00 am and drive till 4 pm or 300 miles maximum. So true to form I have been driving 400 miles plus, and finishing at 6 pm. Believe me it is an improvement on past ventures. The drive in the pouring rain went without problems. I checked into a cheap hotel and spent the rest of the night trying to make contact with my UK ISP, using my Compaq iPAQ. After an hour with little success, it dawned on me that I could not make a connection because my ISP connection number starts with 0800 and for those that are in the know, here in England that is a free phone number which can not be used outside the UK! So here I am with all the latest Hardware money can buy (COMPAQ iPAQ, iPAQ GSM Expansion Pack and Kodak latest adventure Camera, DC5000) and no way of getting my Travel Log and Pictures out. After a short time it dawned on me to try MTDS-MOROCCO. This company emailed me and offered me two months free Internet access during my time in North Africa. This is what I did. A first time connection, and an expensive option at £1.50 per minute but at least I am updating my site.

On the Move!

SUNDAY 04 FEB 01 DESTINATION MADRID  (440 MILES)

On the road dead on 9 AM. It is only a short journey from England to France. But when you are hungry and first thing in the morning there is only one meal for me and that’s an English breakfast, Sausages, Eggs, Grilled Tomatoes, Bacon, Fried bread, unfortunately as you know, this is rarely a option outside the UK as your choice is limited to a Thimble of coffee with bread and ham or Croissants. (When in Rome!)

 The weather was terrific and what lay ahead was a drive through some of the most beautiful scenery I have seen for a long time. I wanted to be in or near Madrid by 5pm and this leg of the route took me via “San Sebastian, North East Spain, Burgos and then due south towards Madrid. The scenery improved as I traveled across Spain but the joy of this was in sharp contrast to the conditions of the Spanish roads, which in my opinion are outrageous for a European country. The main road towards Madrid is covered in potholes and something you must avoid when traveling at speed fully laden. I decided to stop some 50 kilometres north of Madrid to save on Money. I found a Hostel with a bar in a new town called SANTO TOME DEL PUERTO. The welcome was warm and the food was excellent and the beer San Miguel. Total cost including a few beers, mixed grill and accommodation, £12.00.

Spanish Border Guards

Sir Alex, my bike, R1150GS, has been excellent no problems experienced at all. The tyres CONTINENTAL TCK 80 have been great. My experience on Knobblies is limited but after 1000 miles there is to-date no real indication of ware, which is unbelievably good due to the hard riding I have done. It is now 7 am on the 5 Feb and I must pack for my Journey towards Seville then Gibraltar.

Espana Border

5 FEB 01 DESTINATION GIBRALTAR  (450 MILES)

You know you are going to have a good day, when five miles north of MADRID an ambulance appears behind you with lights and sirens blasting aloud. I moved into the inside lane to allow him access and I was then sucked behind him for the next 10 miles. I travelled North to South along Madrid’s ring road in less than 15 minutes, a journey I am sure in normal circumstances could have taken three times that.

I was now on the E5 a Spanish Motorway heading for GRANADA. I must confess this leg of nearly 300 miles was some of the best driving I have ever had to do. Is it too much to believe that the Spanish had read my previous report on their roads and in haste pulled out all the stops to get my route before me freshly tarmaced!! It was only when south of Madrid that I knew I was in the real Spain as every garage with restaurant had the most amazing choice of TAPPAS; yes a weak point of mine. Sir Alex and me where making good speed as I had a change of tactics, which involved stopping every 100 miles instead of every 50 as previously done. There is only so much coffee and tapas to be consumed.

We drove past GRANADA and high into the mountains towards Malaga where for the first time, I engaged my GERBING electrical clothing. The drive was unexpectedly good and we made good distance. I knew that if I could make Malaga reasonably early in the afternoon I would be fewer than two hours short of Gibraltar. This I achieved with ease. 

Just North of Malaga I saw the Cadiz sign, which took me due east towards Gibraltar. It was day three and I had now travelled 1100 miles. Thirty miles east of Gibraltar I saw the first of many Moroccan ferry ticket booths. The temptation lured me straight away. (see picture ) The purchase of tickets is a straightforward affair. There were no requirements to show passports or documents. The cost of tickets was approximately £15.00 for the bike and £12 for an adult. This was a return open ticket, for me extremely good value.

Moroccan ferry ticket booth

I took the opportunity to phone a few friends in Gibraltar, which included Liz, a Reservations Manager at the Rock Hotel. I informed her of my crazy plans, which included the SAHARA DESERT and a BMW MOTORBIKE. Much to my amazement the Rock Hotel entered into the true spirit of things and offered me a complementary room for two nights. This was an extremely generous gesture as the cost of the room is £100 plus per night. Thank your Mr Davenport (Manager) and Liz. It is the best hotel in Gibraltar with each room having a sea view. Having purchased my ferry tickets I continued west, finally arriving in Gibraltar at 6 pm.
A quick meal at my favourite eating parlour, washed down with a few lagers and yet another early night. It was never like this ten years ago!

6 FEB 01 ATLAS MOUNTAINS

I awoke to the noise of flocking seagulls and the hustle and bustle of daily life in Gibraltar. It was 08.30 and a quick glance out of the window reassured me Sir Alex was still there. I need not have worried, as Gibraltar is almost a crime free city. The worst thing that happens in Gibraltar is the frequent issue of parking tickets from the ever-proficient traffic wardens. 

The Rock Hotel

A double take out of the window provided me with the most amazing view of the peaks of the ATLAS Mountains. The main body of the mountains obscured by cloud but the summit was there standing proud, a beautiful sight. For the first time I felt truly excited. I was some fourteen miles from the base of the ATLAS and all that was before me was the sea straights of Gibraltar.

View from The Rock Hotel

Today was my last chance to purchase the final items for my trip, which included 20 x 8 mm tapes for my camcorder, which was donated by the lovely Errol Luxton and some more medication and a thousand AA Batteries. I then went to the YE OLDE ROCK PUB to meet some old friends and the lovely IAN and Molly (Owners) and Susan the new Manageress. It was nice to catch up on old times, but the real reason for my diversion was to see if my K & N filter sent by STEPHEN, a German overlander who heard of my plight in trying to obtain a filter, duly organised the purchase and sending off one via UPS to Gibraltar. All this before I managed to pay him. An incredible generous gesture for which I am grateful. No time like the present! 

Ye Olde Rock Pub

Time for that Filter change

Armed with my K & N filter, I set about the task right outside the pub. I knew this would be the first of many filter operations, so I thought it would be better to perform this task in the comfort of Gibraltar, from start to finish, one hour. Yes it was my first filter change! Armed now with new found technical confidence I tested all my electrical devices. I wanted to see if the Transformer 12 v DC / 240 v AC kindly sent by Dave from CW MOTORBIKES would recharge my COMPAQ iPAQ, CAMCORDER and MOBILE PHONE. This was achieved by connecting the Transformer to the bikes cigarette lighter and each device was then charged to capacity. All this was completed with the engine switched off, and the power received from the bikes own battery. On completion, the acid test was to see if the bike would then start. Sir Alex fired up from cold without a problem. Another potential problem had been laid to rest.

The evening was spent in the company of members of HMS Tireless a submarine currently visiting Gibraltar. It was fantastic to hear all the praises from the local residents. The ships company have been doing a tremendous amount of work for the community of Gibraltar, which includes everything from charity fund raising to taking disabled children out on day trips and even repair work in the town itself. It makes me proud to be a submariner.

Just Good Friends

7 FEB 01 DEPART FOR AFRICA

Its now 09.00 and I leave in two hours for the ferry to Ceuta. I shall be first driving to the Summit of the rock of Gibraltar to commence my VIDEO Diary.

My first priority after arriving in Morocco will be to obtain a Moroccan Sim card, which will enable me cheaply to 'maintain' this travel journal. I leave today very grateful for all the help I have received, to coin a phrase, I couldn’t have done it with out you!!

09 FEB 01 TOUR OF ANCIENT CITY OF FES 

The tour of the ancient city of Fes is not to be missed and essential as the old town is a labyrinth of cobbled streets no wider than five feet. It would be impossible to sight the main attractions in a day without assistance. The last part of the tour included a visit to the famous hand manufacturers of Fes carpet. I was now becoming accustomed to the art of bartering. It is fair to say in my experience that all prices quoted can further be reduced by 40% at least.

Kings Palace Fes

I was asked to sit down and enjoy some mint tea whilst the carpet salesman set about the HARD SELL. I was first informed that the Fes carpet industry is a cooperative involving 500 families and each carpet takes 2 - 3 months to make, dependant on size. I was also informed that the government fixes the prices and there would be no compromise. This would be my greatest challenge. The sales man continued with the hard sell long enough for my mint tea to go cold. I was simply content to be resting my weary legs and listened on enthusiastically. He eventually got round to the fee which was 2000 derhams per square meter or £800 for the complete carpet. I was informed that Harrods sell the same carpet for £4000, this I can believe. It took me only five minutes using every expression I had which involved scratching my chin and rubbing my forehead to bring the fee down to £350. Satisfied with my achievement and proud of an almost 60 % reduction I was on my way.
I arrived back at the B&B where my adopted Moroccan was waiting for me, each tourist gets one till you loose patience and send him packing. I was using his eager services and local knowledge to the full. I had some bike accessories, which I still required, including tyre weld, oil, WD40 and Iodine for the water. Armed with his shopping list he departed. This fee for his efforts was still undecided but I was happy I would pay him no more than £5.00 per day, which also included guarding my bike overnight. It had been a long day and I retired early in the knowledge that my departure for Rabat would be an early one.

10 FEB 01 RABAT, CASABLANCA, SETTAT.

It is hard to tell at first glance the difference between Fes and Rabat as the clothing and Kasbahs appear the same. The history and culture is there all the same. It is a beautiful city located by the sea and is more cosmopolitan than Fes. The main reason for my visit was to meet Simon from MTDS (internet) as I was still having communication problems (my fault completely).

Everybody was so helpful in trying to help me. It took a couple of hours to remedy the situation, only because I forgot my manual. It seemed that everybody wanted to help and was equally friendly, this was typical of how I was now finding Morocco. I was eager to head south towards the desert via Casablanca. I took the coast road from Rabat a distance of nearly 50 miles. 

Simon MTDS

Coast Road

The city is particularly famous to us Westerners, more so because of the film of the same name. Whenever people mention Casablanca, for most it conjures up all sorts of romantic feelings. All I can say having now lived the experience is that it reminds me so much of London, if you like exhaust fumes and have real desire to shorten your life expectancy well Casablanca is for you. It is the Industrial capitals of Morocco and my almost Black Savannah motorbike clothing, which early on in the day started a bright Yellow, now reflects this.

Hassan II Mosque

What made the journey so worthwhile is the Hassan II Mosque situated south of the city, which is awe inspiring and unfortunately the image included cannot reveal the true magnificence of the building. It took me a full thirty minutes to walk around and its shear presence will stay with me for the rest of my life.

SETTAT

My journey now takes me southeast towards the Sahara via Marrakesh. The route from Casablanca towards Marrakesh is, according to the 'Lonely Planet Guide' an uneventful trip with no reason to stop. Some 70 miles short of Marrakesh I drove through a small town called Settat. I travelled through and out the other side, until it dawned on me how nice and inviting it looked, so I swung the bike around and headed for the centre. I was now tired and very hungry and I didn't have the desire to continue any further. After a few inquiries I eventually ended up outside a two star Hotel called "HOTEL AL MASSIRA" situated in the city centre. It was now 10 pm and I didn't have the enthusiasm for carrying all my equipment from the road to the hotel entrance, a distance of 40 meters. Ignoring the ever-increasing crowd I rotated the bike through 270 degrees and headed with great chivalry towards the hotel entrance breaking only when sir Alex front wheel had crossed the threshold of the hotel reception. I was now face-to-face with the hotel receptionist and immediately started up a conversation; completely forgetting my motorbike was blocking the hotel door way. Obviously somewhat shocked, we quickly agreed a price, which included leaving Sir Alex by the reception desk for safekeeping. 

Sir Alex at reception desk

The hotel room was good, and the Piste de resistance was the best shower in Morocco. A shower so powerful and hot it left me feeling pummeled and, at the same time, refreshed. I would welcome this hotel again without hesitation if only for its shower. The price of the hotel included breakfast, which happened to be from the restaurant next door. The food was excellent and came with fresh Orange Juice.

11 FEB 01 SETTAT TO MARRAKESH

The price of the hotel included breakfast, which happened to be from the restaurant next door, the food was excellent and came with fresh orange juice.
The journey to Marrakesh is one I had been looking forward to for a long time. I have heard so much about Marrakesh, and for first time away from the tourist area I was seeing the real Morocco and meeting true Moroccans, everybody has been helpful and kind, they are rightly proud of their heritage, the only drawback and pity being all the hassle I had in those first few days, because now having spent some days here I would say this is one of the best countries I have ever visited. The food is always lovely and extremely good value. The scenery has been out of this world and there is enough history and culture to keep you going for a very long time.

On top of the World (High in The Atlas Mountains)

The drive to Marrakesh was a fantastic one, well worth the visit alone, I drove for three hours like a darting arrow on a long unwinding road which rolled on and on into the Atlas Mountains. At times you could see for miles ahead which added to the experience. The transition from flat open green lands to mountainous landscape was a fast one. My arrival in Marrakesh was greeted with the sight of a large modern hypermarket so untypical of anything else I had see before during my time in morocco, and most definitely in sharp contrast to the surrounding building built from red clay and lime.

In The Low Atlas Mountains

SUNSET - SAHARA

A five minute drive down the Muhammad Boulevard into the center of Marrakesh was easy enough. I must admit I was not prepared for what I saw as I drove into the center. The market place is a huge area of tarmaced land possibly the size of a football pitch covered from one end to the other with a huge assortment of entertainers, everything from traditional dance to snake charmers. I drove onto the peripheral of all this entertainment and was only stopped for thirty seconds when a Cobra Snake Charmer had wrapped this five-foot reptile around my neck whilst his colleague took an instant photograph. It all happened so quickly that before I realized what had happened I had been presented with a demand for 200 derhams. The agreement was concluded in less than one second. Anything to have this reptile, which by now was showing an avid interest in my goats skin purchased from Fes, which now dons my motorbike seat. This inquisitive cobra was edging ever closer to my groin area and in sharp contrast to previous financial dealings I would have been more than happy to pay ten times the requested amount to rid this snake from around my neck.
The town is vibrant and more alive than anything else I have ever seen before. I am only guessing but there must have been more than six thousand people gathered in this small area. Twelve thousand markets stalls "THE SOUK" further surround the entertainment area. Please take my word for it, I did not count every stall but having walked the walk, I would not argue against this amount. Marrakesh is a buzz city somewhat out of character for the location and anything else I have seen before. The same problem as I always have is where to put my bike. The center is a abyss of restaurants and hotels so accommodation is not the issue but the safety of my bike and belongings are. Not for the first time this trip, luck was on my side, only fifty meters from the market place I found a two star hotel with a huge lockup garage beneath whose dimensions equaled the premises above. I couldn't believe my luck and at only £8.00 per night I could relax.
By now on my journey I had come across numerous travellers and bikers. The word on the street was that there is only one exit point into Mauritania from Morocco and that was via Dakhla, then south to Nouadhibuo. I was by now receiving first hand accounts from many a traveler returning north from Mauritania. The stories I heard were all recent and incredible to listen to. I met a nice chap called Richard who was returning to Spain to work as a chef and save money for his next adventure in Eastern Europe. He recalled how he arrived at the border town of Nouabhidou at 5.30pm only to be told that he was thirty minutes late for the border crossing that day.
Tired from his journey he pleaded to be allowed access across the border into Morocco. Displeased with his Richards stance, the border guards kept him there for a further two days. His location was a minefield, he had the comfort of knowing that he had a distance of five feet either side of the track before the minefield. His choice of vehicle was an ex army ambulance a long wheel base Land Rover converted for his journey admitting that he was still unfamiliar with the numerous combinations of light switches his vehicle had.
As night drew in he went outside to check what lights were now on, in doing so the wind took his straw hat which had accompanied him across Africa the previous nine months, and thrust it ten meters from his converted ambulance into the minefield. He recalls it sat there taunting him and gesturing for it's retrieval. Richard is Scottish born and breed and not a person who would appear emotionally tied to an item of clothing, but like many a traveler this was his good luck charm, an icon that had travelled the Congo some months
before and survived! This was different - this was pushing personal loyalty to the limits.
An hour passed before his loyalty got the better of his judgment. Armed with his head torch and dabbing one toe before him in long
sweeping motion reminding me of "Basil Faulty" he made his retrieval. He explained that 10-meter walk was the longest journey of his life, and he would rather live in the goverless Congo for ten years than have to repeat this experience.
I met another biker, driving a Yamaha trial-tourer who was in recent company of an American who had managed to access Mauritania via the west Moroccan route traveling past Galtat Zemmour (Morocco) towards Bir Morgrein (Mauritania). He too had driven straight into the minefields and when he realized his dilemma, would not move an inch even when the assistance of a local guide was offered he refused. It took the efforts of the U.N and a helicopter plus the fee of $1000.00 to retrieve his bike. It is fair to say
the local guides have a monopoly on this sort of bike retrieval.
I have an obligation to return to work for the beginning of April and knowingly crossing a border, which may not be open for a return journey or getting myself trapped in a minefield which I know already exists would be fool hardy and unprofessional. I am in full support of raising money for poorly children and raising the profile of the Royal Navy Submarine Centenary Year, but getting myself rescued from a minefield in Mauritania is not really what Flag Officer Submarines P.R. Machine or my Commanding Officer, Commander Hine had envisaged when granting me permission to undertake this adventure.

12 FEB 01 ZAGORA

I left Marrakesh and headed southwest for the oasis settlement of ZAGORA, a remote town in the Sahara Desert. The journey again was a memorable one, which took 'Sir Alex' and me high and across the Atlas Mountains. The drive across the Atlas is a perilous one as the roads are narrow and for the most part without safety barriers, hair pin bends follow one after another and there is barely enough room for vehicles to pass. The route is littered with car debris where unfortunate drivers have perished into the abyss below. I even saw the mangled remains of a coach in the distant depths of the mountain pass.
The temperature is now so hot that you have to avoid breathing in through your nostrils as it burns intensely. The ever-increasing dust continues to mask my visor and the air is so dry I prefer to drive the with the lid on the system 4 helmet up, which exposes my face more to the sun. This has left my face swollen and eyes puffed.
Now would be a good opportunity to thank the CPO MA (HMS DRAKE) for all the medical supplies. It seemed to me at the time, when I was presented with this big box of medical supplies that he was over enthusiastic and was confusing the Sahara crossing with next years 'Around The World' trip but now I am more than appreciative of his professional judgment.
ZAGORA as a town continues to expand to the east of the original settlement which now lies partially in ruins, tired from time and weary from all that the Sahara has to throw at it. The main artery of the town whose name I forget but it's a safe bet to assume is called "Mohammed" is approximately one mile in length, spanning from the entrance gates to the west and finishing at the famous TIMBUKTU PORTRAIT (which directs travelers from the past to the town of the same name, which incidentally according to the portrait is 52 days camel ride away into Algeria.

Timbuktu

Wild Camels

The drive into ZAGORA will stay with me for a long time because for reason's I cannot explain I was applauded from the locals as I drove the length of the town.
I am not sure if my Manchester United Football Shirt was the reason for this outburst of affection or was it the toys on the handlebars? All the same it was a moving moment.
It was my intention to locate the Police station and inform them of my intended route and to await further travellers so I would not be alone as I travelled further south. A bravado or pioneering approach to the SAHARA DESERT would be insane. The vast open space combined with the scorching heat deserves respect and thorough planning. The procedure I have now adopted as far as safety is concerned is first inform the hotel or campsite of my intentions and estimated return time. Then inform the police of my approximate route including GPS co-ordinates and as a last measure inform one of the numerous SAHARA SAFARI CLUBS which are located in every town. I always have four days of water even if it's a day trip and ensure my trip is less than 10 kilometers from the hotel or campsite. This enables me to communicate via VHF Radio purchased in pairs cheaply in Gibraltar with the hotel receptionist or predetermined safety companion. If this all sounds a little over the top, well imagine an accident, which would leave you immobile. The Sahara shows no mercy if you are twenty meters from the road or ten kilometers the end results could easily be fatal.

Sahara

13 FEB 01 ROYAL LOGISTIC CORP (ARMY) PRIVATE KELLY NEWBOUND

Today I received a phone call from my daughter, Kelly who is in the ARMY, currently based in DEEPCUT serving with the Royal Logistics Corp. She has been granted permission to fly out from England and join me in Africa. The change of agenda now means in anticipation of her arrival I have to travel north retuning into the ANTI ATLAS MOUNTAINS to a town called OUARZAZATE where there is a small airport . What an amazing gesture from the Army to allow my daughter to join me in Africa. Father and daughter - Army and the Royal Navy, either way I am extremely thankful to the Army and her Commanding Officer. I shall be a very proud dad.

14th FEBRUARY - IN TRANSIT ZAGORA TO OUARZAZATE

VIDEO DIARY:
GARMIN GPS -
I am not sure if I have mentioned this, but I am maintaining a video diary of my journey (thanks to Plymouth marine fabrications Ltd - and Errol LUXTON). Two days ago after filming in the Sahara I returned to ZAGORA to find that I had lost my power cable for camera. I was so upset as I truly believed this would be the end of my journal, and after an hour it dawned on me to try and back track using my GPS. I recalled the day’s route and headed back possibly15 kilometres back into the Sahara, navigating by GPS only. According to my GPS history log I was wandering 30 feet of my track I had completed that same day. The terrain I had been on that day was mostly pebble and there was no track to follow whatsoever. All I had was my GARMIN GPS and hopefully luck! Riding my bike slowly and standing high on the pedals I drove for a further nine kilometres totally disheartened and really upset. I couldn't believe my eyes, when passing down my left-hand side was my trusty camera power cable. I had driven nearly 10 kilometres into the desert using 'GPS' only, and relocated my power cable. this sounds amazing but is true.

OUAZAZATE - CAMPSITE RESTAURANT

Another location which this lonely planet almost ignores. Here tucked away on the peripheral of the Sahara desert is this lovely town. On first sight it appears to be a garrison town as soldiers are everywhere, but they are friendly enough. And tucked away on the eastern edge of the town is a campsite restaurant. This site is clean and secure and all the staff are extremely friendly and helpful. This is the perfect location to make your base especially if traveling by bike. Near to the desert and near to the Atlas Mountains, camping restaurant to-date has been the best stopover in terms of security and relaxation. A high 10 feet wall surrounds the camp sight plus they also employ a night security guard and all this for only three dollars a night! And should you fancy a swim you only have to travel 20 meters to the full size communal pool located in the nearby restaurant. After a few days in the saddle in temperatures reaching 40 degrees you will most definitely appreciate a stop over in Ouazazate and the friendliness of campsite restaurant!

TYRE CHANGE IN OUAZAZATE

My continental TCK 80’s are good for another 2000 miles at least, but now evermore conscious of the ever decreasing standards of terrain, I thought now would be a good time to change onto my second set which i am carrying with me. Simply trying to decrease my chances of receiving a puncture I negotiated a deal of six dollars to change the tyres. I was second in line and happy with the price quoted. I was sitting some twenty feet from the bike and garage sipping a milk coffee when a loud banging noise started and appeared to come from the same direction as my bike and the tyre fitters. I decided to take a short walk and investigate. To my horror they where using the same metal hammer to knock on the tyres that they do on car rims. The waiting customer did not batter an eyelid. But the thought of Sir Alex receiving such a battering left me feeling uneasy and looking slightly green. my bike had already been dismembered, so my only course of action now was to find a mechanic with tyre leavers and appreciation of the love i have for my bike. it took one taxi ride and a further 15 dollars to have my bike rescued from these barbarians. it took one box of oranges (used for support) and another hour to complete the job and resemble the wheels. The job completed i rode off into the desert thankful I still had some wheel rims left to ride on.

16 Feb. 01 OUARZAZATE CONTINUED:-

Only a few times in my lifetime have I been completely knocked out or lost for words or even thankful for the moment. The first was the birth of my daughter Kelly on the 20 March 1980 and again more recently May 26 1999. I was fortunate enough to watch live Manchester united beat Bayern Munich in Barcelona to lift the European cup. You had to be there to believe it! What could possibly have happened to me in a small town called Ouarzazate on the periphery of the Sahara dessert to compare with this.

Claude AKA 'YAK'

His name is Claude. known famously as "YAK", he originates from Switzerland and he departed in 1994 to circumnavigate the globe on his bicycle. Claude is a feature writer for numerous magazines and one of the most interesting people I have had the pleasure to meet. He is now on the home leg, well 2000 miles to go - and I am sure will be a huge success on his return to Switzerland. I listened for hours to his travel stories and he even read me extracts from his book, which is in draft form and dates back from day one of his departure. Here we both were in my tent sharing bread and coffee. What contribution could I possibly make to a conversation, when sat before me was a modern day hero. He was modest by nature and very easygoing he even showed me photographs from every location from Himalayas, China, Russia and more recently the Congo. I asked Claude the same question I asked Simon and Bridget, "What advise would you give me prior to my around the world trip?" and he says that is easy. "What opens more doors in life than any other is a firm handshake and a big smile".
He told me a story about when he visited a small village in the Congo and he arrived late at night tired and still suffering the after effects of malaria. The chief of the village greeted him and instantly thrust a radio into his hands and beckoned him to fix it. Claude replied he would investigate later after setting up camp, which he duly did. On initial inspection all appeared ok, no obvious damage. His first check was to replace the batteries, which he did and not surprisingly the radio burst into life. On hearing the radio the chief raced over and took the radio from Claude. "That was that" Claude thought and retired to bed. He was awakened early in the morning by the sound of voices and rustling growing ever louder and nearer. He opened his eyes to see a disorderly queue of people and defective equipment forming at his feet. This was Claude the miracle man.
Claude and I swapped email addresses and I will do everything I can to be there for his home coming in Switzerland.

19 Feb. 01 OUARZAZATE TO AGADIR

For the first time since I started this trip I was able to tune into the BBC World Service. The news I heard on the radio revealed there had been an incident in the gulf and as a result for various reasons there could be a recall for me or my daughter, so I made the decision to head north from Ouarzazate to Agadir where I knew my mobile could get good reception and I also knew I could make Algeciras in one day if so required. I made the decision to stay in Agadir for a further 48 hours and monitor the news. This would also allow me the opportunity to locate a fellow traveler heading south across the Sahara. I was not concerned if it would be a bike or car all I wanted was the security and safety of another traveling companion.

The campsite we stayed in is located only 100 meters from the beach and cost only 5 dollars per night. and all that stood between our tent and the sea was a brand new five star hotel, so it made sense from a logistics point of view to make this new hotel with pool our base, except for bedtime when reality kicked in and we had to depart the marble flooring for the canvas of our tent.

Departure day called and we rolled up the tent, it was now 9am, and we had a full days traveling south all be it alone! well not quite. As we made our way to the reception we noticed a BMW 100 GS/PD with tent only ten feet away, minus occupant. Looking at this well travelled bike it was all to obvious he was just going or coming back from middle Africa. We paid our fees and waited by the bike. Some five minutes later Lorenz Bauman a Swiss national who is, we now know, to be en route to Senegal. perfect!

We exchanged pleasantries and ideas about the route and decided after reviewing the facts it would be a good idea to make the southern part of the journey as quickly and safely as possible, and I would explore a little on the way back north. We set of at 11am towards Tan Tan 350 kilometres drive. The drive took us past Tisnet and into a raging sandstorm. In only a matter of seconds - day became night as visibility reduced from 10 miles to 10 meters, the wind was so severe that driving was almost impossible but it was essential to keep going. Each side of the road dropped away some 10 meters and there was nowhere to pull over or take shelter.

To maintain forward motion meant leaning the bike 30 degrees into the wind. I could now hear my visor rattling with its helmet mount and eventually the gale force wind tore it from my helmet leaving it dangling to one side. Lawrence driving by my side could make sense of my predicament as he gestured for me to pull over, this was more dangerous than driving because lorries and land rovers are all to common, and should one have been following us there would have been little or no time to react. As luck would have it Lorenz had a spare set of Scott goggles on his person and within two minutes we were on our way?

Our speed overland was now reduced to twenty miles per hour if that! each gust of wind reminded me of when I was a child as each blow was like being struck with a pillow during a pillow fight. You knew it was coming but there was nothing you could do when it struck. Our bikes where veering from left to right and still the visibility was decreasing as the sandstorm increased in intensity.

Sandstorm!

Out of the bleak haze before us, we could see two persons waving frantically. They where huddled together by the side of the track, and just behind them we could see their bike lying in a sand dune. I was unsure what the problem was but eventually I could see their hand signals indicated air pump. Uncomfortable at the thought of stopping but equally impossible to leave them stranded we pulled over in
the frantic gale and tried to make sense of their dilemma. A quick feel of the rear tyre revealed their problem. In a matter of seconds Lorenz had dismounted and unpacked one of his two soft bags and pulled out three feet of a tall hand pump. After two minutes frantic pumping and no pressure increase it was all two obvious they had more than a slight puncture. We turned the bike on its other side and carefully examined the tyre, which revealed a tear some five inches long just beneath the rim. There was nothing we could do except recommend that they take cover or drive on.

For the first time the reality of the Sahara had me in its grip. The romance of this journey was a million miles away as I felt exposed and 'Somewhat Vulnerable'. I had the reassurance of Laurence by my side and his presence made a huge difference, but I also wondered for the first time had my enthusiasm for this journey unnecessarily put myself and Kelly in danger. I looked for Kelly in the sandstorm and hoped she had stayed by the bike as I told her too. I looked for a signal from her to say I want to go back, but to my amazement she was smiling and had adopted a news at ten stance armed with the camcorder she was filming all the chaos before her. In my mind I quickly assessed all the supplies I had on the bike which included four days of food and forty litres of water. I knew we had four flares and about fifty luminous light sticks. The batteries in the VHF radios had been replaced in Agadir and a quick glance at my mobile phone confirmed I was still receiving reception, which meant if required I could phone or email from my Compaq iPAQ to the consular and emergency services. These where all options at my disposal and I felt much better having ran all the alternatives through my head.

The wind was force 7 - 9 and combined with the driving sand made it almost impossible to make sense of our current location. I viewed my GPS and increased the scale to 120 feet and then used the GPS back history to create a track.. I then took this track and used the data against my Michelin map and confirmed our position as some 70 kilometres north of Tan Tan. We decided to press on south leaving the two lads heading in the opposite direction driving on a flat tyre. Two hours later and some five kilometres short of Tan Tan to our relief the sandstorm subsided. As you drive towards Tan Tan you can see the town on your right and two kilometres before the centre you are greeted by two huge kissing camels which form a bridge across the road, from which you have to drive through. not wanting to see stay in the city of Tan Tan we pressed on to the coast (Tan Tan Plage or now known as Ouatia).

The campsite here is well sign posted except there is not a campsite!! if you follow the signs you will end up at the seafront, which is pleasant enough, but highly exposed unless you happen to be in a camper van. 100 meters from the seafront is a new guesthouse with café called equinox. The cost is 40 dirhams per person and the price includes hot shower. Alternatively, you can sleep on the roof in one of five burber tents that have been erected with magnificent sea views. Having been at one with nature for most of the day I was quite content to take a more modern approach and take up the offer of a room.

Welcome to Tan Tan

21st February 01 - STRANDED IN TAN TAN

Unfortunately due to the sandstorm it looks like we are staying put until it dies down. I finish now with a image of Kelly in a force Nine sandstorm from the roof of Equinox hotel location Ouatia.

Kelly in a force Nine Sandstorm