Tombstone Writing Funny My

2010. SIX DAYS IN THE SOUTH. DAY 1. MOROCCO

DAY 1. March 28. M'Hamid - Merzouga. 300.

After a short break after the 2000 kms of asphalt in the car, we were facing with bright sunshine on the first day of our particular ISDE in the south of Morocco. First we had to unpack and properly equip the bikes. Then I note with amazement that I have forgotten the collar, bearing in mind that it got quite touched M'Hamid cervical forgot I was afraid that this bill passed in the medium term. Looking glasses and only find the reservation, the "owners" seems to be back home. What a start. The ambient temperature is high, I would say summer, so nothing to wear a jacket. Of course I had not considered bringing fanny down there, so I had no choice but to carry all the luggage (keys, camera, documentation, water bottle, food, etc.) on the panniers, which was rather cumbersome, they are so great that eventually all objects will inevitably stop at the bottom, mingle with tools, clothes and cans of petrol and no way to find anything in that box-tailor.

The photo shows Amarok discussing the play with some English tourists, the number of hotel customers, in addition to some Portuguese. All wore 4x4s, the only cars or bikes were ours. We left

Tagounite asphalt road in order to refuel at the only decent station in the neighborhood. Some 25 kms of link and from that time, 275 kms of sand, soil and rocks to Merzouga. Curiously, the first section off road itself was moist, the Draa river wading, with a some flow in Tagounite, from that time, we fully dive into the arid, rocky splicing straight tracks. And interestingly, once we find a military checkpoint, where an officer asked us to retrace our steps or change direction, because we would not leave or come near a cm more to the border with Algeria.

First Richy's bike, a KTM 640 Adventure tank with 22 liters or more. The land, cleared, with a wide track that allows movement in many sections in parallel, so you can avoid swallowing the dust of the bike that precedes you. Another technique to avoid suffocation was to let your partner will escape a hundred yards, taking advantage of the visibility in those circumstances was magnificent and not risk astray.

Calmly was leaving Richy Amarok and begin the march, its dust trail would guide me.

Lines and more lines. Fortunately, after many tens of kilometers of boredom, you had to cross a short hill, with a few curves uphill:

when he crowned the little port could contemplate what you expect the other side: flats and more flats, ocher, brown, brown or white. When a big tree in our path crossed not to direct our course doubted for him to shelter under its shade:

The heat was oppressive, sudabas much, but the dryness of environment caused an almost immediate evaporation. My water supply decreased. Frankly, I did not expect much heat in the month of March, I have sinned this naive. That shadow was a blessing.

On the other hand, decreased engine performance at high temperatures. The KTM was more about no doubt, but in a motor 400 and even if it was straight, flat tracks, I was missing a little more power. To finish the play, the wind gave us all day long tail, meaning that the propellants refrigerating poorly by active and passive.

100 km on the first fault the trip. A retainer the DRZ fork of Amarok oil seeps and ends up soaking pastillas del freno delantero. La solución pasa por improvisar un torniquete confeccionado a base de papel higiénico. La ñapa resistiría los 6 días.

Reanudamos el viaje inmersos en la misma tónica general de rectas y llanuras. Estábamos en plena hamada, ese tipo de desierto más pedregoso que arenoso. En el kilómetro 200 y pico, calculo, nos detuvimos para retratar a unos dromedarios que descansaban por las inmediaciones.

At that time I already had while turning the head to my retirement. The tracks seemed a supreme boredom, the heat was stifling, and the prospects for change, zero. I saw five days repeating the same monotonous route across the desert in all possible directions to find the same: empty. Anyway, so far there was no alternative but to reach Merzouga, where we would do tonight. On the other hand, saw me unable to orient myself in those expanses, so I must follow the dictates of our leader:

Fortunately, once we got to the first dune, which meant at least one variation in the landscape. This photo was walking track and provided an ideal yet to conquer:

should be given strong gas from below and be very aware if the bike suddenly starts to sink of up front or behind or on two wheels at a time. The consistency of the sand is very variable and if not given time reacsionas gas at close range, you get stuck. Lacks power for good and be skillful. With a jet engine is hot 400 and things get complicated, because you're abusing of gas permanently. It's easy to hear how the crank bites while accelerating hard to escape the sand that swallows you. If you get stuck and insist giving gas, bury yourself and the machine hangs on you within a few seconds. I wore the MoCool mixed with antifreeze and had no problem, but the Suzy Amarok was much more sensitive to excesses in the dunes. To crush engines, this is an ideal spot.

designed route took us to penetrate in a small sea of \u200b\u200bsand dunes a couple of feet high no more, but a little while to get into the bike task Amarok gave a hint of coffee, have forced virtually the machine. Against this background and since we did not know the extent of sand, turned around and looked for a strong clue.

About Tafroute we are all of a sudden with a sandy track unique properties. Rather than on sand, the road runs on talcum powder gray. Here the bikes are instantly swallowed by the ground, the bike does not pull the front wheel and going to and fro wildly, while lifting a mushroom cloud of dust vanished.

Here Richy seriously stalled, and I think it stirred the first whack of those who awaited him in similar terrain .

A mí la zona (después de más de 200 kms de aburridísima hamada toda recta) me pareció el paraíso y pedí tiempo para jugar un ratito.

Haciendo el indio me quedé frenado en seco entre dos roderas y me di un golpe fuerte en una muñeca. Afortunadamente no tuvo mayor trascendencia, pero fue un aviso para que me tomara las cosas con más quiet so far away from home.

We march toward the Remli and at one point I find myself lying in the road a shirt suspiciously similar to one that is often Amarok lead. The pick up and continue until a mile later I see that Amarok and Richy are standing next to the track inspecting the DRZ :

Indeed, one of the saddlebags acquired for 20 Euro Converter Cash has said enough, and John has lost his luggage through the hole you see in the picture. We go back a couple of miles to see what we can recover the wreck but recovered little. Anyway, the losses were small thing, a shirt and sunscreen.

Light began to dwindle with the arrival of sunset, so we resumed the march to Merzouga, in this case on track sand soft and comfortable, not in vain we approached the Erg Chebbi, one of the most famous areas of dunes in Morocco.

Merzouga Once we went to the Hotel Le Touareg, and once booked the room, we take the last rays of light to go get fuel to the "gas station" of people. Gasoline is of a drum, and to measure the gallons used a can of 5 liters and a bottle of Ricard 2 liters to clarify a bit more.

Pictured on the seat of my bike tri-fold look at my two auxiliary tanks: a pair of drums Antifreeze about 2.5 liters each. The carrying in his saddlebags, and with gasoline carried in the main tank (about 14.5 liters ) achieved a range of 300 miles, enough for a day of pisteo standard. And from the gas station, little way to the hotel and its swimming pool, where we found invigorating a swim, dinner and over.