Hitting the Atlantic
We hit the Western Sahara, along the straight paved roads and the
many police stops, each stop meant off the moto and giving lots of details (We
will have t make so Fitches with our details on and print them). One of the first stops in a town the police
man with the speed gun started by saying rapiod, rapiod to which I put on a
strong accent and played dumb to what he said (going too fast but we where not,
pulling a fast one), he soon gave up as I said I didn’t speak French and just
smiled at him showing him my passport.
He made us dig out our bike documents but when we did he told us to go,
bloody ejjit! The wind riding west was
very strong forcing us to ride at a angel to stay straight but when we came to
the Atlantic we turned south and the wind was
at our backs and gave the impression of being in a smooth slip stream.
Felt good to be by the Atlantic
but that also meant the salty steam brewing from the stormy waves blew across
us smearing our visors that was made worse when you tried to clean it. Passed a couple of diggers further inland
moving sand from the west to the east side of the road as it drifts onto the
road, now that’s a job for life! The
sand blowing across the road was like dry ice and from a distance the whole
road looked covered in sand only to be a light dusting of sand but there was
drifts building across the road that made us take care. Late afternoon brought us upon a car
wreck. There wasn’t a straight bit of
metal left on it, it has obviously rolled many times and a suitcase was waged
sticking out of the widow behind the drivers seat. The police was there taking to some people
but no sign of a ambulance, if one was needed.
We looked in Tarfaya but there was no place to stay so it was another
70km down the road and then west off the road to a wee place ran by a Belgium
couple and a camel tagine, very nice.
Stayed in a very warm tent that night with carpeted walls and floor in
bright colours and a mattress on the floor, very hot in the sleeping bag.
home sweet home