Chapter 8 – let's ****** do it!
The morning was a glorious one with some fantastic views. For the first time in my 25yrs I saw camels, and I was surprised at how noisy they are!
I'd used some of the tank fuel talking the helper back up to Erfoud and I would have felt more comfortable with it being full again. Luckily I found a petrol station at Merzouga serving “Sans Plome” out of old coke bottles and a barrel. They appeared to do a mixture of what was in the bottles, probably piss, with what was in the barrel. Given the tank was at least ½ full I concluded whatever they put in would mix and wouldn't be a problem. Fingers crossed anyway.
Before I left the hotel a guide give me some superb advice. It's a misconception that you go west from Merzouga but in fact you go south quite a bit further to a shanty town called Taouz. There are several pistes to bypass the hard stuff at the start of the crossing and he explained the one I wanted was 2Km before this town on my right. I can't remember if it was 2Km, 20Km or before or after now which should give some inkling that I missed the turning. If I followed the route on my GPS (which I showed him) he said I would get into serious difficulty and he advised against it because the route follows the southern Oued Ziz.
On the way south I bumped into a German husband and wife on an Africa Twin who were coming from the other way. I asked them if it was easygoing and in tandem I received a stern “Nein!”
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0146.avi
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I went past this town and the GPS started to curve west. Excellent! It got a little more tricky in parts and the rear suspension was again terrible. On the sand I quickly learned to pin it when it started digging in. It would wiggle around but keep going. The only problem I had was not being able to accelerate forever so when the sand let up I had to get the speed down before I needed to pin it again. A new technique for the book. I had a few soft drops but nothing major.
On the following video take note of my confidence with the infamous words “that ain't going anywhere.”...
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0148.avi
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At one point there is a choice of going left or right for a short time and the route rejoins. It looks like the same distance. I chose left. Five minutes down this path I'm doing about 50mph when there is a large bang and the rear wheel starts locking up. The bike starts veering right of the road. I managed to keep it upright. It has to be my best controlled stop yet.
My first glance was towards the rear and into the distance. The picture sums up exactly what I could see. Both panniers had left the bike.
The panniers god bless them had not departed quietly. They snagged on the bungies and the sleeping system, held on by said bungies, had ripped off and inverted up where the rear shock was. It had lodged itself between the swing arm and wheel causing it to lock. For my crossing west this was looking terminal. To make matters worse the sun was out. It was 35 celcius and I was wearing black. Tremendous.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0150.avi
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I retrieved both panniers. The right one that had been damaged previously was not going to stay on the bike for this journey. I guess I could have attached it to the top of the bike. The right one had a bent brass bracket and the lock had snapped. The weight in the panniers (and they weren't that heavy) was bending the brass and causing it to fail when off-road. It was a shit design and I couldn't depend on it for doing this journey. The real issue was water capacity. The 3.5Ltrs in the right pannier was now leaking out of a small hole. I tipped the pannier upside down and contemplated how to fix this. Perhaps some gaffa tape would get it fixed. But one pannier on the side would imbalance the bike. Meanwhile the sun beat down and I got very very hot.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0152.avi
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At the end of what must have been an hour I'd tried in desperation to fix the panniers but it was not to be. I was ****ed. So much money, so far to come and thwarted by some crappy plastic panniers. No. No No No. There was a solution and I needed to find it.
And I found it. I got rid of the panniers.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0154.avi
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This was a major task and required getting rid of a lot of stuff. All my packet food went as did some cooking equipment. I binned my trainers and spare t-shirt/boxers/socks so that I had only one spare pair. I dumped a sweatshirt and crap such as salt tablets, string, sugar and absolutely anything else that I could survive without.
Next I took the sleeping system out of the bag and put everything left over from the panniers inside it. I cargo netted the sleeping system on then bungied the bag on top. One 5Ltr jerry was attached through the bungy. The other I managed to fit into the tank bag. The tank bag now hung over the side of the tank and flopped around at its leisure. The jerry cans were going to be a real pain in the arse.
After this I considered the water supply problem. I filled up the 2Ltr bottle and ½ Ltr bottle from the leaking pannier. I dumped the tea making equipment and filled this up with water. It was nowhere near enough but it was all I had. With this amount of water there would be no stopping for leisure breaks. I was going to have to do the distance and not get caught out.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0155.avi
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Off I went. The fuel in the tank bag was a major arse ache. It had enough weight to move the direction of the bike when it flopped over. The rear bounced around onto my back, or onto the seat when I stood up so that I couldn't sit down. I was getting pissed off with it. The bike was failing and I was going into unknown territory. I was sweating like I've not done before and that route I was supposed to take I missed so I was apprehensive about things turning ugly. The GPS confirmed I was following the route of death (the one everyone said not to do). That said, it wasn't too bad going. Rocks and shallow sand I could live with.
I passed through a very small run down village. The few kids and adults there were waving their arms in an unusual way. Mostly in Morocco they hold out one arm and do an action with a hand. These people were waving frantically in a stop kind of motion. At least that's how I saw it. I wasn't stopping at that shit hole though. It was Zagora and as quickly as possible.
Soon after the village all became clear. The piste led to a single fenced track. The fencing off was very unusual and I wondered if the area was mined. The piste was heavily rutted and in these ruts was sand. Lots and lots of sand. Inevitably the bike began getting stuck and there was no way around it. Many times I was on full lock and going 2mph. The sun was getting higher and with no air transfer I was getting hotter.
The full-lock going nowhere malarkey went on for hours and I made very little progress. The ruts made it impossible to get any speed necessary to 'float' over the sand. The bike would simply bog. At numerous times the overheat light would come on and I'd have to stop while the bike cooled. It was 40c now and I was dehydrating and still drinking much of my water. I was down to 1Ltr. I'd put the fuel from the rear jerry into the bike and thrown the jerry.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0158.avi
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The hardest part was dropping the bike and I was doing this every 50 yards or so. Picking the bike up was incredibly hard. I simply couldn't do it unless I removed the tank bag because of the weight of the remaining jerry can. With the bike over on its side this wasn't easy. One time I dropped the bike and trapped my leg. I couldn't get the bike off me and I started to panic because no matter how much I pulled my leg wouldn't free and the bike would not move. I was so hot. I panicked for a bit and started shedding tears. I needed a good slap in the face. When I'd calmed down I got the helmet and jacket off and started digging the sand around my leg and foot. Minute by minute it because easier to wiggle my foot. I pulled so hard I got my foot out of a tied up motorcycle boot.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0159.avi
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I was following the southern part of the Oued Ziz and the going was seriously difficult. The GPS said I was off route by several hundred meters. I wondered if there was a sane tarmaced route just over the other side but getting off the bike I couldn't see it. My water supply was getting beyond a joke and I just wasn't in any mind to do much more of this. I contemplated going back but the thought of going back didn't seem viable. I'd gone through hell in the last 20km. Every time I thought it must end I'd enter more deep rutted sand on the next bend. I channelled my frustration by ripped of the autocom microphone. It had pissed me off for two weeks.
The sun was high and beating 44.6c. I can't describe how disgusting this sort of heat is in black motorcycle gear. The bike overheated again because of pinning it and moving nowhere. This time the oil pressure light came on (the oil level was way above normal and I presumed it was boiling). I felt a sort of hydraulic lock occurring and killed the engine immediately. I was in a sticky place where I couldn't put the side stand down. I lost balance and dropped the bike onto the right side, this time the weight landing on my very swollen foot and trapping my leg again. The pain tore up my body and I momentary screamed. In agony I once again dug at the sand but this time in calmness. I couldn't pull my foot out so I spent a lot longer trying to get under my boot to make the bike rest on the sand. It was working but the heat was making for hard labour.
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0160.avi
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When I got out from under the bike I sat under nearby shade. My remaining water was disappearing as I drank heavily. I watched the flies helping themselves to my bleeding left hand and I tried to remember what the disease was you can catch of flies in the Sahara. The broken clutch lever was doing a good job of cutting it every time I fell off. After 20 minutes I went back to the bike, removed the tank bag and picked it up. That alone exhausted me so much I went back under the shade for another 20 minutes. Then I went back to my coat and dug out the camera. The final video you see is where I'm under the shade not knowing whether to turn back or not. After this point the camera failed. I then attached the tank bag, had another 5 minutes rest and decided to turn around at the next available opportunity. I simply could not ride these sort of conditions.
I need someone to explain what is growing on my front teeth through video 159 – 161!
http://www.igaro.com/misc/moroc2/100_0161.avi
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The opportunity never arose for on the next corner the single track opened up and the ruts shallowed. The sand remained but it was not deep and with a bit of speed up I was able to tackle them. I was beginning to make progress and I was clearing the Oued Ziz. I'd done it. The hard part of the crossing was over! The crossing over the Oued Rheris was amazing. A dried up river, perfectly flat with no rocks it could be crossed flat out and there was nothing but the white bed. It was such a tangent to the conditions I'd just passed through. After this it was rocky tracks with only little bits of sandy sections. Blissfully good.
I came upon an Auberg called Oasis something or other. It looked like a castle ground and the facilities were somewhat minimal but I didn't give a damn. I allowed the owner to cook some food, which was a stuck pancake thing to a rusting frying pan and I drank some tea. I followed up with a lot of Fantas and had a kind of shower. All my clothes were rather smelly but that was the last thing on my mind. The shower was only available as he pumped from the well!
When I'd parked the bike up I'd switched it to park to power the camera charger to try and get the thing working. The ignition barrel failed and I couldn't get the steering lock to disengage. The Auberg owner found a rock and began hitting the ignition barrel as I tried turning the key. Comically I was still concerned about the paint flaking of the barrel! I was expecting the key to snap any moment then I'd be really ****ed. As I had no spare oil I took the dip stick out and used the key to open the dust protector on the ignition barrel and put a few oil drops into it. It didn't work. Neither did covering the key in oil. The Auberg owner asked if I wanted him to go to the nearest village, I think it was Tafraoute, to get a 4x4. I think I saw the dollar signs showing in his eyes.
I took the remaining jerry can and put most of it into the bike. Some of it however I poured into the keyhole. This was enough to free it up and although tight and needing a bit of effort the key turned until I got it to the start position. Another potentially disastrous problem solved. Phew!
I slept Moroccan style on one of those hard blanketed surfaces. Either the hard uncomfortable surface is pleasurable to sleep on or I was too broken to notice as I slept through to sunrise.
