The day started early as once the sun came up Donna couldn’t sleep, and her creeping about got everyone but Rob up bright and early. About five thirty to be precise. One topic of discussion each morning was the treatment of blisters. By this point we had all suffered from blisters on our hands, and everyone seemed to have a different way to deal with them. The prize for the most unusual treatment this morning undoubtedly went to Jago however who appeared with his hands wrapped in gaffer tape.
It was back out onto the dunes first thing. The cool night had changed the dunes texture noticeably. They were much firmer and consequently less treacherous, and so more accessible and easier to enjoy. We were gaining confidence and starting to carry more speed up and over crests. We were having a really good play, stopping regularly with huge grins. John in the Unimog joined us for a play. Seeing this huge truck come sliding down these slopes was amazing, although it definitely didn’t look anything like as much fun as the bikes.
Out of the dunes, we opened the throttles wide across a perfectly smooth salt flat. The flats were incredibly smooth allowing us all to ride side by side, to veer off 100 yds to the side and then back again weaving between other riders as you went. Then it was into another village and a stop to fill up with fuel; this time from bottles. A group of young girls from the village laid out their wares to buy, so it was off for some more bartering (but not too hard).
Just out of the village was our first (and thankfully last) encounter with fesh fesh, or bull dust. This fine dust seemed to simply explode as one of the bikes crossed it, and left a lingering impenetrable cloud. This certainly wasn’t the only problem, as it was also pretty difficult to ride in. The front wheel would wash out and meant that it was definitely a general direction you were riding in rather than steering toward a specific point.
Through the fesh fesh, we were into a wide valley, the tracks were hard-packed and smooth, off to the side were small stones, with just the occasional boulder. We were ripping along but the scale of the terrain was immense. There were lines of mountains running parallel to our track at either side of the valley, and whilst we were flying along we seemed to just inch forward. Off to the left were dark high mountains which contrasted against bright orange sand lying on their lower slopes.
We stopped at a café / kasbah seemingly in the middle of nowhere whose walls were lined with hundreds of stickers from a huge variety of rallies which had passed through. The drinks came out of a freezer and my Sprite was actually frozen. Why is it that freezing gets rid of all the bubbles? It was one of the superb elements of the tour that we were given increasing independence, and this afternoon was no exception. As we sat in the café, Patsy said words to the effect “it is 110kms to the hotel, stick in your pairs, follow your GPS, off you go and I will see you in the hotel”.
So off we went. Jago and Sven went first, setting a fast pace, followed by Rob and I with Patsy and Donna bringing up the rear (and regularly catching us up!). The going was fast tracks again, indeed it was on this section that I clocked my highest off-road speed of 131km/hr which was incredible, if more than a little scary once you consider the ‘what if’ scenario.
The tracks we followed were, at first, along a hard-packed valley floor. At one point I had got ahead of Rob and stopped, switching off my engine. I was immediately struck by the utter silence. There was no wind, but more than that, there were no animal or bird sounds and nothing of human habitation either. Then I became aware of the heat. Oppressive is an apt term. It was incredible, like a weight on your head and shoulders. It must have been in the 40’s and we were fully togged up. I also realised what a great job riding at speed was doing to keep me cool. Stationary, I had immediately started sweating profusely. All of this in the couple of minutes it took for Rob appear over the gentle crest.
Further on, the terrain changed dramatically. It turned rocky, very rocky. Off the track, it would have been impossible to ride, even on the track the stones were huge and the bikes bounced and rattled across the surface. Finding a good pace was virtually impossible; too slow and you were regularly pushed off course, too fast and you risked a painful tumble. Either speed was exhausting. The bike however was amazing, absorbing the punishment without even getting a puncture when I landed on a large, pointed and well buried boulder. Not before time, we left the moon-like boulder field behind us and onto swooping tracks with some habitation. After leaving one such village, and with Rob a little way behind, I stopped about 400m beyond the last house to answer a call of nature. It was more than a little disconcerting as I was doing up my flies and turning around to see about 4 children had appeared magically behind me. As elsewhere, they had converging on these foreigners and their bright orange motorbikes to smile, wave and try to communicate.
Continuing, we climbed up one rocky slope to a shallow saddle and then down the far side. Turning around, we saw we had come over a breath-taking escarpment, the striation dark against the clear blue sky. We stopped, resting and having a drink from our Camelbaks. As I sucked, it ran dry; not great when you are in the middle of a desert! The quantity of fluids we were drinking was astounding. On the first day I had managed to drink 6 litres of water between stops for drinks! Luckily on this day we were only about 15 kms from the hotel. We were resting regularly now and a little further on I had stopped again when a dust-devil suddenly appeared about 20m from me. It was extraordinary; beautiful and seeming so delicate as it moved slowly away.
We rode into Zagora to the hotel having covered 190kms by the time we arrived at about 2.30. It was another Alice in Wonderland moment as we walked into the hotel, shed our helmets, shirts and body armour, then went through to sit by the pool. We attracted some stares but surprisingly few given that we were still in motocross trousers and boots and also (as I discovered later) the dust from the day had left me with a large dusty orange patch of dirt around my nose and mouth. It didn’t detract from the cool beers we consumed over a late lazy lunch.
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