Saturday 18th October 2008

This morning, as I left, I discovered how normal guests got to the campsite and, while it was a lot easier than the way I had arrived, it was still pretty testing for me. Essentially someone had thrown a lot of gravel down in a two kilometre straight line across the desert from the tarmac road to the hotel and campsite. Back north into Erfoud and, creature of habit that I am, it was back to Café Dedani (where I’d had dinner with Hugo and Sabine) for mint tea. Off west then, on a decidedly second class road, to Tinejdad, where I could join the main N10 to Tenirhir at the entrance to the Todra Gorge. The road surface was pretty standard West of Ireland tarmac but laid in straight lines. I was beginning to realise that, away from the mountains, there is no reason for a road to have any corners. The first part was through some pretty but poor oasis villages but I then started to see real poverty as the landscape became much more barren. It was a bit odd at first to ride into a village where everybody just sat and stared at me but I found that if I lifted the flip front of my helmet and smiled it changed the whole atmosphere and most people smiled and waved back. I stopped to take a photo of a sign which warned of the danger of encroaching sand, always good to add a bit of excitement without any risk. Wrong again. Within 5 minutes I was enveloped in my first ever sandstorm (they’re not very common in County Antrim). The wind was blowing fiercely from my left and gradually covering the road, my helmet had way too much swirling sand in it, and every now and again a large truck or bus would thunder out of the sand cloud at me. I had never got round to reading the best practice guide on how to ride in a sandstorm so I just kept going blindly on and eventually it all stopped. It must only have lasted for two or three kilometres (not like in the real Sahara) but it left me fairly drained.
I must have been slightly disorientated because I stopped for tea in Melaab, thinking I had reached Tinejdad. This was the first time I had come to somewhere where nobody spoke either English or French. Shouldn’t have been a problem, I only wanted tea. Unfortunately the Arab café owner decided that he couldn’t possibly communicate with me and delegated the task to one of his customers who spoke Spanish. No, I don’t speak any Spanish. It took an hour and a half to get a glass of mint tea and a plate of dates, surely a record even by Morocccan standards. Suitably reoriented, I made good time to Tenirhir and couldn’t quite believe that Andy Hans and Roland were sitting at the first café. They had gone for an exciting day off road on a very long piste only to discover that most of it had been tarred. They said that the only exciting thing they had seen all day had been a sandstorm covering a road to their north. Yes, I know.
We were all intending to ride the Todra Gorge the next day so, after getting our boots beautifully polished; we rode into the gorge to stay at the superb Maison D’Hotes Anissa (abdelouahid10@hotmail.com). Two years old, excellent rooms, hot showers and 150 dirham inc dinner and breakfast – I’m going to be such a grumpy guest in Irish accommodation.
Tomorrow the Todra Gorge – can it really compare with the ring of Kerry?