Day 11, 18th April - A Sahara Epic...

Lars: I have always wanted to ride the desert...and finally on to a proper piste... and I am well and truly satisfied with what I accomplished today. Yes, the plans were to do the piste from Tagaounite to Merzuoga with a night in the desert, but I'm writing this at the bar in Sahara Sky, sipping the Flag Pils that Hafid is serving us. We started off by going south to fill up with both fuel, water and food supplies, then off to the piste as per directions from Helmut and Peter at Biker's Home.

We found the piste and at the very start, by a small river crossing, some sand dunes had formed which brought Mark down with his foot stuck under his panniers resulting in some good pain. Next was myself, dropping the bike going through a patch of soft sand. We kept going in a slow pace but the mix of surface of soft sand, gravel, rocks and boulders took its toll, together with the baking sun. We took 10km rehydration stops and soon realised that we'd be out of water soon! Mark's ankle was giving him some severe pain, he gained more confidence in riding through the tough stuff despite the pain from the constant battering from the tough surface. I enjoyed the riding at first but got more and more tired as the piste demanded constant attention and 100% concentration. After a pitstop where we aired our trousers, I was really tired and suffering from the heat. Stopping at the crossroads from another piste from Taganouite, we were invited to Berbers house for lunch and ...cold Coca Cola!

After 50 km and 4 hours on the piste, we made a team decision based on injuries, risks, had enough, satisfied, "those racers must be mad", "bloody panniers" and the remaining 230 km and a night out in this boulder strewn landscape. We turned our wheels towards Taganouite again! I had gained some more energy and enjoyed playing in the sand and spinning around a bit, but was more than happy with this experience. Next time it's a lighter, more agile bike with no panniers but soft luggage! Then I am sure I will enjoy this barren fantastic landscape even more!  But today I had a great experience and my respect for those crazy off road racers are even greater!

Mike: Heads full of the anticipated challenge of the desert, we thrust forward a'la Ewan and Charlie, two of us falling off within the first 30m of deeper sand, the training in the hotel car park seeming suddenly inadequate. Dusting each other off, we powered on, our 'Schwarzenegrian' thigh muscles keeping us balanced – a perfect combination of man and machine. The heat, the heat- sapping our strength with every jump and turn, children in awe of our natural ability, yet we remained humble. The rocks, sunburnt after spending the last million or so years baking in the sun and heat somehow took umbrage at our skills – throwing themselves at us relentlessly, After Mark hurt his foot, he decided to park his back pannier on top of it, crushing it even more, I helpfully (after parking my bike) removed the offending bike. This was a godsend for Mark, who seemed to be turning a greenish colour. Not to be outdone, I felt the need to park my trusty steed into some large sharp rocks, while I dived off, having a quick nap on the piste, after waking up, Lars helped me remove the bike from the precipice where I had left it and I continued on my merry way. We continued on, Mark and I recognising the need to stop impromptu parking, proceeded with a degree of trepidation, looking forward to something a little less injurious. A great day, but boy was it hard! These Paris–Dakar riders are quite clearly deranged or have a death wish to ride at the speeds they do. One more thing, I have gone off metal panniers – they hurt. 

Mark: Thing least likely to hear anyone say today – " Oh good it looks like some more deep sand ahead".  Second least likely comment – "Those heavy metal panniers we bought were a Godsend".

The full on off-road experience today. Gravel (okay); rocks (bad); deep sand (very bad); bike landing on my ankle twice (extremely bad).  Add in intense heat, dust, and a full on downpour which seemed to bring on a plague of frogs (a biblical sign?) – what luck that we get into the Sahara and see the only rain of the tour to date.  Luck was on our side though when we happened upon a Berber settlement in the middle of nowhere, where we could rest and get a welcome drink. It soon became clear that camping in the desert was not a particularly good idea given the intensity of the riding, so we aimed to circle back to our starting point. I'm sure the scenery was breathtaking, however, I spent most of the journey with my eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to avoid big rocks and hoping for no sand over the next hill. When we eventually reached tarmac again I would have got off the bike and kissed it had I not been so tired. We eventually made it back to the hotel, gliding through the sand in the car park with newly developed skill, battered but not bowed. We received a hero's welcome from Helmut and the hotel staff (Oh you are back so soon?). A truly epic journey.

Mileage: 80

Tea at Berber House

on the piste

Mike in the shade

a good part of the piste

rehydration

The foot

The only thing missing is the smell...