Day Five

January 2, 2006

Two flat tires and brake lights that aren’t working properly. So that’s the kind of challenge you have to deal with when you’re driving a 1983 Mercedes Benz SEL500 & a 1993 Fiat Panda. But hey, that’s all part of the fun, right? On the Mercedes both rear tires blew out within about half an hour of each other, but were replaced quickly with the spares on hand. We didn’t discover the brake lights on the Panda were funky until we’d gotten close to the campsite, so we’ll take a look at those tomorrow morning when we’ve got a little more light.

But I digress here. Let me step back a bit and tell you a little more about our crossing from Spain over to Morocco. Leaving Spain was, as expected, fairly uneventful. But what I do remember well is a conversation I had with a newly married couple driving a very old Land Rover with two military issue 350cc Harley Davidson motorcycles on a trailer. We were standing there in line on the docks, waiting for the ferry to arrive, when I started chatting with the male half of the couple. And get this – not only are they doing the Plymouth-Banjul challenge, but they’re then going to ride the motorcycles back to Europe via Mali, Niger & Algeria. Wow!

But this is what I really liked… In the final chapter of the manual that comes with these bikes, there’s a set of instructions on how to best destroy the motorcycle in case it’s about to fall into enemy hands. Now how many owner’s manuals have that kind of information? And here’s a key item that was also noted: if you’re going to destroy the machine with an artillery shell, please make sure you stand back 500 meters! You gotta love it!

The ferry ride was uneventful and we got to the inspection point that takes us into the northernmost African country. And oh my, bureaucracy at its finest. The one character who stands out here is the fellow I named the ‘Stamp Master General’. Here’s this huge bear of a guy in a very official looking light blue (and rather ugly) uniform sort of observing everything. And you could tell he was in charge, particularly since he had two stars on his epaulets (shoulder straps displaying military rank). All of his underlings were running around here and there, checking paperwork, asking questions and doing their duties, while every now and then the ‘General’ would wander up, pull out his stamp with a flurry of authority, and stamp the documents for entry into the country. It was truly the epitome of red tape and authority for authority’s sake.

But after we had gotten our own special stamps from the General, we too were on our way. Off to a campsite in a town called Sale, just north of Rabat. We decided to take the back roads, just to absorb a bit more of the local culture and enjoy the surroundings. And wow, what a change compared to Europe! People & animals all over the road, police checkpoints here and there (but they were all very friendly and waved us on through) and pretty crappy roads in places. But we made good progress and, at about the half way point, the British (being very British) decided to take a break for a cup of tea (which they had, of course, brought themselves).

And what do you know – about a quarter of a mile up this side road where we’d planned to take our break, the right rear tire gave out on the SEL. And boy, was it ever gone! The sidewall was totally shredded. But hey, these kinds of things were to be expected. We slapped on a spare, tea was served, and we were on our way. And then again, a short bit later, the left rear one gave out. Again, the sidewall was toast. But again, the tire was quickly replaced and we got on our way with very few minutes wasted.

So now I’m here at a campsite in northern Africa. And if you’d asked me a few months ago to forecast my location on January 2, 2006, this is probably the last place I’d have predicted I would be. And everyone’s telling me that the further south I go, the more primitive & interesting it’s going to get. Wow!