Part 8 - Sun block. Inflatable guitars.

When planning an adventure there is a lot to be said for items of luggage which have no practical use but do look good in a photo. With our ability to carry luggage at a minimum we decided on the inflatable guitar which, as it turned out, doubled as a surprisingly good pillow but was useless for navigational purposes.

The satnav (which had come back to life after Kaspars had accidentally fed it too many volts) appeared to be traumatised as it was insisting we were heading for the middle of a lake, which was true, about 6,000 years ago.

Follow the golden ball

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, and 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.

Tabloid fodder

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 tourists die in Sahara” but actually meaning “Four muppets on mopeds venture into the Sahara unsupported in July and die. Who didn’t see that coming?”

Lighten the load

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 days. Mobile phone signals had long been non-existent. So we decided to pop our iPod’s in and block everything out.

We stopped to stretch our legs and grab a quick snack and water when Charlie announced there was only empty space where the bag containing all his clothes should have been. Still it could have been worse, it could have been the bag containing the water. This minor incident aside we just kept racking up the miles hoping that a pub would magically appear in the distance serving ice cold cider and steak and chips. It didn’t.

Nothing to Declare

Riding on borrowed time

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 poor 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.

We'll camp here then

This incident had actually done both Charlie and us a favour. Not only had we inadvertently found a perfect camping spot but Charlie’s bike had already unpacked itself.

We all had trouble sleeping in the end. A combination of feeling slightly vulnerable in this place, the sheer weirdness of it all. There was a distant sound of a very eerie wind, occasionally interrupted by a wind closer to home eminating from Charlie and Oz’s tents and always followed by a bout of schoolboy giggles. But then the mood changed a bit.

Close encounters

“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 mystery turned out to be…an enormous piece of cheese. The Moon was rising!

It was so weird. Normally, the moon is either in the sky or it isn’t. We’ve all seen a sunset and a sunrise, but certainly none of us had ever seen a moon rise. Tick.

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 jam, stale bread and boiled sweets. The oasis couldn’t come soon enough.

He's got the hump

We packed up and headed off, struggling in the soft sand but at least thankful that the sun had barely risen so we had a chance to make distance before the desert became a furnace once more. There were some encouraging signs within a couple of hours.

In the distance we could make out some large dunes and then we spotted a camel with its two front legs trussed with a rope so clearly someone didn’t want it wandering to far. There must be someone around.

We perched atop a gently sloping dune to get a better vantage point and were busy slapping on sun block when in two locals came trotting towards us. It was difficult to tell at first who was the more surprised, them or us. But once they saw our mopeds and that we were carrying inflatable guitars it was definitely them. They explained their camp was just a few kms away, jumped on the back of our bikes and guided us in.

Colin the camel and friends

We all looked like this first thing in the morning

Dune fail

Our spirits soared. It was the oasis. Food, cold water, shade! The camp was right at the foot of a vast section of sand dunes. It was the type of desert scene you see in the films. Huge dunes with sharp crescent edges as far as you could see.

The locals hopped off the bikes and asked if we wanted tea. We nodded enthusiastically but then got a bit carried away with ourselves and decided that before sitting down for tea we’d go and tit around in the dunes. Inflatable guitars in hand we then ran up the nearest dune and started stage diving off the top. Then we thought we’d try it with the bikes.

Sand pit

Things didn’t go quite as expected. Charlie got about twenty feet up the first dune before the bike ground to a halt and then almost flipped backwards. He was stuck with his front wheel pointing vertically skyward. Naturally our instincts were to leave him stranded, laugh hysterically and reach for the video cameras.

For the next hour or so we lost ourselves in the moment and took it in turns to see who could get to the top. We used longer and longer run ups so that in the end we were hitting the dunes at about 70 kmh just to try and get over one. This did eventually work but once we were stuck between two dunes with no run up.

Dragging the bikes by hand back over the dunes took it out of us physically. It was now about 10.30am and fast approaching peak midday temperatures. The sand was starting to get too hot to be stood in so we called it a day and went back to the camp.

Is cheese meant to be hairy?

Tea was served. Right then, time for lunch!! We were already salivating at the thought of fried chicken washed down with some watermelon. Our new found friends rather apologetically explained that the camp contained only a bare minimum of supplies. They were just a skeleton crew who looked after the place periodically during the summer months. They weren’t expecting supplies for another six weeks since no tour operators were stupid enough to venture into the desert from June to August. Our spirits sank.

They did find some cheese triangles wrapped in foil, some sort of localDairy Lea, but when it was unwrapped it was mostly green and furry. Our spirits sank a little more. It was now midday and we knew this meant we would be going nowhere for the next four hours. Too damn hot. At least they had water and plenty of it.

Bored games

We had no option but to sit things out and tried to entertain ourselves but that was exhausting. We tried learning Moroccan from the Rough Guide but having not needed to use any so far we decided that was not a good use of energy. Meanwhile Greg had gone extremely quiet and in the space of about an hour had gone from tired to looking like he’d given himself a lobotomy.

Naturally we ignored him. That turned out to be a mistake.

5 star facilities

Double quilted , naturally