No serious adventurer would set foot in the desert without the appropriate safety equipment. For some it might be a satellite phone. For others the ability to make fire and shelter. For us it was inflatable guitars.
With the appropriate level of knowledge, this humble item can be deployed for multiple uses and not just in emergencies. At night, it’s a pillow. By day it’s a luggage airbag, useful for protecting precious cargo, like biscuits. During a breakdown it’s a kneeling mat. It’s also really useful for attracting attention because if you pack enough of them you can spell out the word “H E L P” (as long as it’s not too windy).
We only had four so we could only spell out “H” which is still useful for tricking helicopters into landing. It’s basically a blow up Swiss Army knife except it’s not much use for getting bottle tops off.
At this particular moment we’d deployed them as makeshift cushions because it was too hot to sit on the sand and too hot to stand up. We were having a round the cactus discussion about which direction we should be headed in.
Kaspars’ satnav (which had been dead since he fed it too many volts in Fez) had suddenly come back to life but appeared to be traumatised as it was insisting we should turn around because we were heading for a body of water and approaching a speed camera. Rewind 6,000 years and the Garmin was spot on as we were indeed on the outer edge of a vast dry lake bed.
The map was not much help either as you need to know where you are on a map in order to know which direction to go in. It was with some irony then that we based our decision on the one thing that would likely kill us first if we got it wrong. The sun.
Due east was to be avoided since that meant ending up in Algeria where we would likely be shot. South was to be avoided since that meant ending up in Algeria where we would likely be kidnapped, then shot. North was to be avoided since that meant heading home and we weren’t ready for that just yet. So due West it was, chasing the sun, even if we’d rather be running away from it.
Chasing shadows. Avoiding rocks.
That’ll need more jump leads
As we motored on, ahead of us was a seemingly endless expanse of sand and rock and it invoked some mixed emotions. This after all was the reason we had come here, to experience the raw environment of the Sahara desert.
At the same time we couldn’t help thinking that if things went tits up our lasting impression on this earth would be a newspaper headline saying “Four Brits in Sahara tragedy” but actually meaning “Four muppets on mopeds venture into the Sahara unsupported in July and die. Who didn’t see that coming?”
We were now so far in to the desert that access to any form of help or assistance would be through a pure chance meeting with another vehicle but we hadn’t seen one in four days, apart from an abandoned Land Rover. Mobile phone signals had long been non-existent. So we decided to pop in our headphones and cruise as far as we could to a backdrop of summer classics like “Hot in Herre” and “The Heat is On”.
We were so zoned out that no one noticed that one of Charlie’s panniers had bounced off along the way. We had stopped to stretch our legs and grab a quick snack. We no longer had to stop for a pee as we didn’t have any pee to pee.
Charlie was gazing at his bike in a there-is-something-wrong-but-im-not-sure-what kind of way before clocking that there was only an empty space where the bag containing all his spare clothes should have been. Still it could have been worse, it could have been the bag containing our main stash of water. This minor incident aside we just kept racking up the miles while indulging in various fantasies. Charlie dreamt of a cold beer, Matt really wanted a cold shower, Kaspars wanted an ice bath and Oz was hankering after a cheese and pickle sandwich.
As the light began to fade the riding conditions got more difficult. The terrain begins to lose definition and you lose your sense of depth, a bit like skiing in flat light. Everything starts to look smooth and you constantly have to strain to make out rocks and holes which is both physically and mentally tiring. We already knew we were on borrowed time when up ahead a huge arc of sand sprayed in to the air, containing what looked like a back wheel. Then a front wheel. Then Charlie.
The benefit of being behind the lead rider is that you can stop before the same thing happens to you. We all pulled up to find a rather dishevelled Charlie spitting out a mouthful of sand whilst his bike and luggage had spread itself in all directions.
This had actually done both him and us a favour. Not only had Charlie inadvertently found us a perfect camping spot but his bike had already unpacked itself.
The rocky hamada had turned in to a stretch of erg and the soft sand would be ideal for sleeping on. We set up the tents, lit a fire and tucked in to a well earned meal and even managed to rustle up a final cup of coffee from the dwindling rations. It was the first time all day that we’d actually sat still and talked to each other.
As the fire faded and we laid back on our roll mats to sleep we were met with one of those sights that you can just never do justice with a photograph. With zero light pollution there were literally thousands of stars above us and huge great swathes of the milky way which you could just never see in the cities. We just gazed for what seemed like ages, transfixed as satellites streaked overhead through the night sky as clear as anything.
We all had trouble sleeping that night. A combination of feeling slightly vulnerable in this place, the sheer weirdness of it all, and Charlie and Oz’s farting which was always followed by a bout of schoolboy giggles.
But then the mood changed a bit. “Charlie” Oz whispered. “Who or what the fuck is that?“
Just beyond the horizon was a shimmering light, small at first but getting rapidly larger. Our first thoughts were that it must be the headlights of a convoy of 4×4’s. We sat bolt upright and stared in silence as the light source got more intense and then suddenly swept up over the horizon. It took a few seconds to register, but the convoy of 4×4’s turned out to be…the moon. It was so weird. Back home, the moon is either in the sky or it isn’t. We’ve all seen a sunset and a sunrise, but certainly neither of us had ever seen a moon rise. Weird.Eventually the exhaustion of riding all day took its toll and we slept if only for two hours or so. We all stirred about an hour before sunrise, woken by the same thing. An insatiable need for a drink of water. Bleary eyed we ate the last of our ration packs. All we had left now was biscuits, stale bread and boiled sweets. The oasis couldn’t come soon enough.We all had trouble sleeping that night. A combination of feeling slightly vulnerable in this place, the sheer weirdness of it all, and Charlie and Oz’s farting which was always followed by a bout of schoolboy giggles.
But then the mood changed a bit. “Charlie” Oz whispered. “Who or what the fuck is that?“
Just beyond the horizon was a shimmering light, small at first but getting rapidly larger. Our first thoughts were that it must be the headlights of a convoy of 4×4’s. We sat bolt upright and stared in silence as the light source got more intense and then suddenly swept up over the horizon. It took a few seconds to register, but the convoy of 4×4’s turned out to be…the moon. It was so weird. Back home, the moon is either in the sky or it isn’t. We’ve all seen a sunset and a sunrise, but certainly neither of us had ever seen a moon rise. Weird.
Eventually the exhaustion of riding all day took its toll and we slept if only for two hours or so. We all stirred about an hour before sunrise, woken by the same thing. An insatiable need for a drink of water. Bleary eyed we ate the last of our ration packs. All we had left now was biscuits, stale bread and boiled sweets. The oasis couldn’t come soon enough.
Like a works KTM. Only shitter.
Flat white or cappucino Sir?
To our immense relief it turned out the gearbox was fine. Charlie had just twatted a rock and bent the gear lever so much that it didn’t have enough travel to actually change gear. With the aid of another rock we re-twatted the gear lever in the other direction. Fixed. Wipe brows. Carry on.
One thing you can’t under-estimate is how much water you need. In Zagora we’d stocked up with as much water as we could carry. But we also needed spare fuel, and fuel and water is heavy so we were limited. Although we’d been advised not to drink the water, when we did come across a well we filled up. Better to have a dodgy tummy than die of thirst.
We drenched our headscarves with water to bring some welcome relief from the heat and pushed on. By our reckoning we had about 70kms to do to reach our first planned stop. We weren’t aiming for anything in particular, we just knew we had to make that sort of distance to keep the schedule. Trouble was in the last two hours we’d done only 30kms, and we only had two hours of daylight left.
We did get a good long stretch of hamada which enabled us to cruise for long periods at a mind-blowing 40 km/h. And then we reached that crossroads. “It’s definitely left. Or right”. We were too busy tucking into fried chicken to remember the instructions the locals gave us but we could all remember them saying one way was good and the other way was “very very not good“.
It's definitely left. Or right.
What would Bear Grylls do?