Staff Infection On Bellybutton

2010. SIX DAYS IN THE SOUTH. DAY 2. MOROCCO

DAY 2. Merzouga, Merzouga. 212 kms.

After making extensive contact with the ground the previous day (300 kms), spent the second day, the surroundings of Erg Chebbi, a sandy ridge 22 x 5 km with dunes up to 150 meters. Here is concentrated the bulk of desert tourism by what I saw.

First breakfast. This time I tried to hydrate well drink at will and carrying about 3 pints from camel bag and several bottles in the panniers. We tried to get up early, but by the time we were ready to leave, the sun warming a great time, and Roman clothing made us sweat well before we got to the bikes. The hotel paddock was in full swing, some motorcyclists were up early to find the sand in good condition, and others left the hotel at that time. As we packed the luggage and we gave the finishing touches, Richy said a fuel gushing macaroni carburetor exactly what can pour the leftovers of Cuba. I think the same day we met and we were talking about the Mikuni his KTM was not exactly a good carburetor, and the Keihin FCR was the reference to the mono 4t. Well, the Mikuni started nagging at an early hour that morning. Richy Amarok and were manipulating the bleed valve of Cuba, but there was no way to stem the bleeding, so after a while of fruitless work, chose to blind the macaroni through a turnstile.

Maybe it was not very orthodox arrangement, but ended up with bleeding. It was at this point we begin to connect the dots: if this morning the fuel flowing to baskets, possibly during the previous day was also lost, and therefore, the Adventure consumed more than usual. "Here is the explanation of the incident at the gas station the previous evening? Fixing the Katy

spent a long time, until the point that they were the only riders who stayed in the hotel car park. With good reason, people up early to avoid high temperatures in the middle of the day and to find traction on the dunes. Clarified that this would be our usual pace: something up early, eat breakfast, strong and not stopping until evening, without lunch break, non stop, whether it was very or extremely hot. Finally we

south with the intention of getting around the Erg Chebbi and, based on our desire and skill to make a foray into the dunes. We followed a sandy track that increasing gradually went deep into the dunes

These dunes were already more serious than the previous day. Highest and most treacherous. We must anticipate a lot to speed up time and before the crown and be thinking about where you're going to continue, there are also check that the crest is not interrupted and you are hit with a significant cut. To make matters worse, the view is difficult, since all land has the same color, and it is difficult to distinguish the changes of the relief.

There are times when everything goes well and enjoy :

Das gas (a lot), notes that the bike pulled and climb safely:

Suddenly, in the most unexpected, sand engulfing the front wheel and you get nailed Dry

The KTM seemed more sensible to be buried in front, and as a result of insisting on the gas, also from behind. Sometimes it was necessary the collaboration of the three to break the impasse.

accumulated Amarok and two drops and overheating of your bike stop forcing us to not fry the machine. I endured quite well, but the dirty tricks that they did pass to the engines did not make me any grace. I had never heard sting rod to a motor bike so intense and repeatedly. We considered whether to continue the track laid down by the middle of the erg or stray looking for a flatter track and marked. I insisted choose the second option, as between warm, fall, burials, chopped and high temperatures did not see any bright future for our expedition. Therefore, we leave the erg and returned to the hamada, change sand stones. In a break, we take to get a drink of fanta, orange, of course:

I again drive for fast tracks. The plan was to encircle the Erg Chebbi (a usual route, seems to be) and return to Merzouga completing a circle. Half Route start to notice that the hind flanea over and I fear the worst. Trasedro my tire is soft and relief, plus the valve has gone. Richy, who came behind me, I check the cable and immediately deployed repair zafarrancho assisted by a kind of burial mound was in the vicinity.

Amarok, which was in the lead, appears after a few minutes after noticing our absence. The afternoon was windy and airborne dust blinds us, plus Sandy flood bearings, shafts, nuts and tires. The sun, hidden by the fog, not plummet, but the wind and sand hit us without mercy. Without much difficulty we got the camera, semiinflada, and apparently in good condition. The valve appears about 20 cm from their usual place (!!), so that I no nut, but it would be guillotined. Without a doubt, is that the shell was stuck in the morning when inflating the wheel to give more pressure, with the passing of the hours was deflating, with accelerations in the dunes gum was turning, and running out of air be undercut to look like a sausage report.

The repair was going well, just had to put the camera back into place and inflate, but we broke the rubber that protects the radio. There it out and stick it with tape. Then there was no way talonar rubber. Suddenly appeared a little SUV and its occupants gave us a compressor, but those should be sold Thursday in the LIDL, because there was no way to get from 2.5 kilos. As the compressor started to smell something burning, stomping opted by Talon top 3 men at a time, until it was in place.

One way or other arrangement took a while, but did not harm the average over the stage. We follow some rocky trails up the canyon, stop for all tourists, and the place where the kids insist on selling fossil crafts. Everyone stops here, because there is another remarkable geographical feature in many miles around, imagine what we should all be bored.

And from here more hamada and now back in Merzouga, we went to a lake (yes, a lake in the desert) to watch the flamingos that say they live there.

And immediately, to seek an alternative station, then after the embarrassing incident the previous day, we were very keen not to repeat the same establishment. Needless to say, this time we were more careful about counting liters. The view is that the quality standards of this new station were similar to each other. Drums to make the transfers were more filthy if possible, and only God knows if I would not be adulterated fuel.

was 212 kms. Caminito the hotel pool at night, the same dinner every night, and piltra.


The gas station was amusing, yes, until the third day I discovered remnants consisting of sand in the bottom of one of the auxiliary drums. The cleaned with water (!) and I filled. Amarok

had to mount a late Dunlop 739 "Desert" (did not know with that added) and was worried because it was not his usual MT 21. I took a Michelin enduro competition with 500 kms of slopes and, as supposed to sustain the dancefloor rhythm of my colleagues. Rolling through tracks I'm going to extend the life of 30%, still has a taco after 2000 kms, hallucinates. Proved once again: Do not crush tires into asphalt or tracks, but in the trialeras.

No doubt the weight of the tanks was critical to make the number one candidate Katy burial treacherous, and he spent several times. Dig was a drama, you needed 2 men and a half (minimum) out afloat. In comparison, DRZs were buried less and get them out of the traps was faster, between 2 came out safe. I do not ever had to help me, I think. If I got stuck, I just came out ahead. The downside was on the tracks wide, there's Adventure adhesives we could start almost without trying.

And on the carburetor, and Richy told me I had history. He said that in hilly terrain always rateaba engine, which was well and could not do anything.