It is very hard to convey this event in words to be honest. I mean, there are the practicalities and stories of the event, which are fine, and then there is the more philosophical and emotional angle. Let me try and start there. After 4 days done and 2 to go, it is fair to say this is a unique experience. For me, it is the perfect balance of solo adventure, but with just enough backup and support that the jeopardy of total failure is removed. By solo, I mean that you have to look after yourself. Yes, there are pits and mechanics and doctors and hotels, and of course you do ride out together in the morning. But on all but short moments in the last 4 days, I found myself riding alone. I confess to a slightly emotional moment on day 3 in the middle of a dry lake where I stopped for a sip from the camel pack. In every direction, nothing but sand and scrub. In every direction, just a classic movie-like heat haze shimmering on the horizon. Not a sole, not a sound. If you want to be reflective, take 5 minutes in the middle of a desert. I don't want to get all slushy on you, but it was quite a cathartic experience.
I heard a distant motor and saw a headlight in the haze, so I waited for Daniel on his Africa Twin to catch up and take this snap. I am the only Brit on the tour. Daniel is from Germany. I think there is one Italian, but the rest of the crew are all French and Spanish - Catalan mostly. It makes for interesting sign-language at dinner.
The Terrain
4 days have covered a real variety. You just think sand dunes, but the reality is the two pictures above sum up most of the miles. Lots of fast open desert track, with hard packed dirt and a skim of sand on top - you really can make quick progress, but there is just enough lose stuff to keep you focused (and get the back end moving). Then we had some more rocky slower sections in the mountains, and a few kilometers of quite challenging technical river beds and descents. The more technical parts were not too hard really, but with the bigger bike, and with a tired body, you really had to keep your wits about you. And then there is the sand. I can explain in great technical detail that there is sand, and then there is sand. Most is fine - quite hard packed and as long as you keep momentum and relax the bars, all is good. Then there is the fesh fesh. If you've every tried to ride a pedal bike through deep gravel, you have a hint, but it is 10 times worse. The sand is like talc powder. The front wants to go anywhere random, and the back just wants to dig in and sink. These are not even dunes either, just on the flat. The technique definitely involves speed - as demonstrated by many more skilled riders - but somehow I struggled. It was fun, but one or two KM at a time was enough and I was always very grateful to get back on firmer stuff.
This is Maurice. His owner - a boy about 10-11 years old - helped me dig the bike out of my first dune experience. Our route took us to one of the few tourist traps we encountered - the set of Star Wars (Phantom Menace if you push me, but not sure). So of course, the bus loads of tourists attract lots of local peddlers selling authentic Millennium Falcon's and camel rides. In truth, I was fortunate that he was nearby because I really was struggling. The dunes are huge - the one behind me must go up another 25m in height and I'm already half way up. Unfortunately bravado beat me. I did the first dune perfectly - of a fashion - lots of gas up it, fall off the scary crest at the top, and cling on down the steep descent. Dune 2 bit back. I got the wrong gear and as the bike bogged down a little I tried to snatch another but it was too late, momentum was lost and I spun myself into a hole. And then I fell off downhill. Everyone tells you to fall off uphill, but no. So I was very grateful for the lad who trotted over (like he'd seen it 100 times) and gave me a shove. With the bike upright, photo taken, fuel drips mopped up, and 10 dinars lighter, I did the ride of shame back down the dune, and took the track around the side instead.
All in all the variety and beauty of the tracks has been brilliant. The most dangerous part - and no joke - is the occasional town that we pass through for lunch or fuel. There are no traffic rules, period. People roughly drive on the right, but there seems to be an endless list of exception to that basic premise.
The bike
Some cosmetic bits and pieces totaling 2 indicators, a wing mirror and a number plate are all lost to the desert. She ran pretty perfectly otherwise for 2 days before the first challenge. I noticed late on day two that she wouldn't start in gear and I had to find neutral each time I stalled or stopped. We had a chat with the mechanic in the evening but the policy is pretty much if it ain't totally bust.....Understandable and we all agreed. On day 3 morning however, she was dead. I couldn't get a neutral either, so no start. It was quite frustrating watching everyone head off for the day and I was left behind pressing buttons and poking gear levers in frustration. I have to say the mechanics are brilliant - and all with good humour too.
They diagnosed it in about 2 minutes and fixed ("bypassed") the problem and had me ready to go in under 30 minutes. It was a blown neutral sensor / solenoid - as usual a £2 part brings you to a stop, but in the end no drama.
Other than that, all the important bits are running beautifully. I spend day one on the original foot pegs (see earlier blogs on the peg saga), swapped on day 2 to the lower pegs, but quickly put the others back at lunch on day 2. Comfort and stance trumps back break.
Personal Kit
I made some good choices with my kit and it's all performing well. The only change I made between day 2 and 3 was to lose the rucksack camel pack and front pocket attachment, and switch to using the camel pack in the Leatt jacket. Similar weight but i didn't really need the rucksack and it was just less to put on and take off. The jacket and pants are perfect, but I did remove the jacket sleeves on advice from other riders, so the arms are just base layer and elbow protectors - much more comfortable. Knee protectors are OK, but it is a great relief to get them off at night. After much debate about glasses, visors, goggles etc, the reality is I've spend 95% of the time just wearing subscription sunglasses. I'm riding solo, or slowing in a group, so sand blast and dust is not usually a problem. When I have used the goggles and insert lenses, they work fine, but not as comfy as the sunglasses, so it has been needs must only.
The Rider
Whilst having an amazing experience, it has not been without its challenges. I'm writing on the morning of day 5 and I'm honestly not sure how many more miles I will complete. Day 3 was the best riding but it was a little brutal in sections due to vibration - just the type of surface. My knee was playing up after day 3 and was swollen. I popped the usual pills but by day 4 morning it was visibly inflamed. My logic was that it hurts sitting by the pool just as much as sitting on the bike, so I may as well be on the bike. I now realise that logic is flawed. My hands had also taken a beating and the left clutch hand in particular was badly blistered. The doctor strapped me up however, and I put some material on my grips to soften them a bit. All patched up there - but the knee was still a problem.
We set off on day 4 in good spirits - a shorter day which looped out and back to the same hotel. It was really nice not to pack up in the morning so a more relaxed start. Unfortunately I got about 12-15KM into the stage and realised I was in trouble. The pain in the knee was relentless despite all the drugs. I couldn't find a comfortable position. We were also in some fesh fesh which, concerned about an big 'off', I was doing slowly and paddling quite a lot with the feet - which didn't help. With some luck, the doctor support car was right behind me following the trail. We stopped for a conference, the outcome of which was that I returned to base. I could ride with discomfort, but my great fear was that I was focused on the knee and protecting it, and not on the terrain ahead. I wasn't concentrating. We also knew it was a tough stage with lots of soft stuff - not the stage where you can just coast along at leisure.
It still took me about an hour to get back to the hotel, where I spent the day cooling off in the pool, catching up on some sleep and chatting to Roger and Jean-Luc who also did not ride this stage (Unfortunately Jean-Luc broke his leg at the end of day 3 - so his event is over).
So we arrive at the morning of stage 5 and I've little idea how far I am going to get. We change hotel today and begin to head back to where we started, so one way or another I have to move - either on my bike or in the truck! I'm hoping a little rest, a lot of drugs and the distraction of some beautiful scenery will be enough. Inshallah, we'll get there.
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