Whatever you do, don't get lost...

And if you get lost, whatever you do don’t lose all the water.

Destination

Sahara Desert

Distance

6,950 kilometres (4,530 miles)

Vehicle

Yamaha T80 Townmate

There is sand inside my toothpaste tube

In this poorly conceived adventure we discover that sand gets everywhere. Literally everywhere, especially in places you don’t want it. Crossing a bumpy stretch of desert with pants full of sand contributes to a level of buttock exfoliation that we don’t know the medical term for but “atomic chafing” would seem a fair description.

In the desert it’s just as well there are shady trees and ice cold plunge baths to take refuge in. No wait, that was a recurring dream. The temperature of the water coming out of our Camelbaks was on a par with a deep sea thermal vent.

Our attempt to cross the Sahara desert on pizza delivery mopeds proved once again they are unstoppable, unless faced with a 20 metre high sand dune in which case they are unusable.

Sunburnt, dehydrated, and suffering from heat exhaustion, never have four lost travellers been so pleased to see the French Foreign Legion.

Welcome to the Wrong Way Round Sahara Edition. Extreme Trifle takes on the biggest desert on Earth. And loses. Quite badly.

Sitting on this would be more comfortable

This is Charles. The love child of Sean Connery and Mr Bean.

Desert storm (in a teacup)

Even by our low standards, the debacle that was the original Wrong Way Round adventure came as a bit of a shock. We’d fallen short. About 16,000 kms short actually. 

When all was said and done there were a lot of minor contributing factors like not taking the right paperwork and entering a country illegally. In the end we decided to blame Charles. 

In our mission debrief at the pub, much discussion was had about how to redeem ourselves and restore the tarnished reputation of the mighty Yamaha Townmate. It would need to be something big. The Sahara desert is big.

As we washed down our pork scratchings with a cold pint we agreed that to add to the challenge we should go in the hottest month of the year. By pint number five, any talk of a support vehicle had been binned off, cos that would be funnier. Somewhere between pints six and eight there was a speed-eating contest involving Wotsits in hot custard. This is not relevant other than to portray the overall state of events.

Entering the Sahara desert in “summer” without any form of support seemed a bit dodgy so  we set about a thorough risk assessment. 

We might get hopelessly lost for days. Our water would eventually run out and we would die slowly and painfully.

Perhaps we’d forget to check our boots in the morning and get stung by scorpions and die slowly and painfully. Or we might camp the night at a desert oasis only to discover it was a watering hole for angry hippos who would trample us to death. Quickly at least, but still painfully.

All potential outcomes led to disaster, even if we left Charles at home.

Pack it like a camel

At this stage at least, the only painful thing was working out how to fit all the kit we would need on to the bikes.

The next morning we set about building the Sahara spec prototype. To do this you need to take a standard Yamaha Townmate and attach some stuff to it.  Like a LOT of stuff.

But, before you attach the stuff you have to attach something to attach the stuff to. The standard luggage rack on a T80 is only intended to carry a small lunch box (or five children if you live in certain parts of Asia).

After some head-scratching lasting minutes, a few bits of old wood, some home made brackets and a welder later, our solution took us to dizzying new heights of haulage capability.

Should we bring a kettle?

The inventory for EACH bike was 10 litres of fuel. 10 litres of water. 3 litres of oil. Tools, spare tyre, cables, bulbs,  inner tubes, spoke kit, pump. Tent, roll mat, sleeping bag and clothes.

First aid kit, sun cream, haemorroid cream. Cameras, lenses, video cameras, tripod. Travel documents, maps, GPS, mobile, solar charger. Torch, firelighters, pots, pans, petrol stove, food, bog roll. And last but not least, fancy dress and inflatable guitars. Oh, and a rider.

We subsequently learned that “tools” should not constitute five 10mm spanners and a piston for a Honda C90. And it should definitely include tyre levers.

The bike of shame

Kaspars, our Latvian comrade, would not be joining us until leaving day. A rookie error since it was left to the rest of us to “prepare” his bike. This involved gathering up all the awful spares we’d decided weren’t good enough for our own bikes, and bolting them together to make an even more awful bike.
 

Charles decided the bike should not only be awful, but embarrassing as well. But seriously, how do you embarrass someone who is already riding a Yamaha Townmate? Charles with a knowing wink said he had something in mind. “Think pink” he said.

“Pink? Hang on, didn’t the SAS used to paint their Land Rovers pink as desert camouflage“.

“Yes they did“.

“Well it will hardly be embarrassing to ride a bike that is invisible!“.

“This is no ordinary pink“

Charles strutted off to the garage with airbrush in one hand, roll up hanging from mouth and the customary can of Stella in the other….hang on. No Stella can! Blimey he was serious. After a few minutes the bike was entirely stripped down (number plate removed). It was then prepared for painting (top layer of rust removed). Then the first squirt of pink was laid down. Spangletastic Pornstar Pink to be exact.

Simultaneously everyone reached for their sunglasses and stood around nodding approvingly. It was truly hideous and abundantly clear that far from being invisible in the Sahara, the bike would actually be visible from space.

It looked like a stick of rock you buy at the seaside only with the words “Bellend” printed through it.

If that was a food colouring it would be banned

Did you know..?

You can shiver even when the temperature is 53 degrees (127 F).

You can make water cold by wrapping it in the sort of blanket your nan uses to keep her knees warm.

You can not see a drop of water in all directions and still hear a frog croaking.

Lithuanian army-issue chocolate does not melt…

Heatstroke can make watermelon come out of your nose.

Discover all these facts and more in our Trip Diary!

Rubber stamp

After a slap up lunch of cornish pasties, monster munch and a Thatcher’s Gold we had a surprisingly productive afternoon such that by early evening we were actually ready to put the bikes through their 17 point desert-worthiness check.

16 points of this were Oz’s pre-ride checks such as ensuring left and right shoes were on correctly and at least one contact lens was in.

The all important point 17 involved riding a bike, fully loaded, to the end of the drive and back without ending up in the neighbour’s hedge.

On the basis this was achieved, albeit with some wobbling and some moaning we declared all vehicles ready for departure, packed up both tools and went to the pub.

What happened next is laid bare in our trip diary. But first here are some interesting facts about the Sahara desert to read about while on the toilet.

The Trip Diary

Photo Gallery