Just after sunrise I awake, feeling slightly better. One mission only, get out of the sand. I walk over to the bike and remove any major weight and bring it to base camp, leaving the tent standing for shade in case I do not manage and need an abode for a hot day ahead. I try to drive the bike and in the cold sand and after some pushing I manage to get going and cover the 600 meters out of the sand. Time to go back and carry the tent and all heavy stuff back to the bike. Already I am destroyed. It is barely 3km to the Sahara camp site and I decide that it is the best option, with fall-back option the oasis with the best salad marrocain in all Morocco.

After a drive over a reasonably hard dry lake, I face sand again, and after a further 400 meters am stuck again, 400 meters from the site, just on the other side of the dune. But I decide, enough of sand. Lesson Nr 3, always deflate your tires BEFORE sand, do not wait until you get stuck for the first time. A 4×4 comes past with a Spanish photographer and after having been his motive, they give me 1.5 liters of water. I guess last night’s drumming came from a Berber tent alongside the road and I get to discuss the northerly piste that avoids the masses of sand ahead. I think of the incredible physical fitness it takes (plus different light bikes) to do a Paris-Dakar and make a mental note to speak to a friend who has done it, Xavi Riba about his experience.

I greatly appreciate the help lifting the bike again and the push to see me return for another salad marrocain. While waiting I essentially collapse on the carpets trying to avoid cramps. Another 1,5 hours later with breakfast salad marrocain and 3 sprites, and giving the mother with the swollen knee some Ibuprufen, I depart again and decide to continue on the northern route, which supposedly is pretty good. Well, it is shake rattle and roll stone piste, the camel is galloping again.

By now I am down to 4.5 liters of water, so the remaining 100km have to be flawless, not much room for mistake now, even if I am on a more frequented route (a very relative term as I did not see one other car). Again the heat and wind is shriveling me up, my mouth is dry as desert sand and my lips cracking everywhere, even with factor 50 baby sunbalm. The suspension of the bike takes a beating and the damage is immediate. Dented rims and the hind plastic wheel cover (that has GS emblazoned on it :-)) gets eaten… The most challenging bits are rough, steep rocky dry river crossings and in the most challenging of all I get some help from “enshallah”.

The front hits a big rock and starts falling over. As I want to put down my foot I step into air, only to find a rock under my foot a split second later, just in time to heave the bike upright again – cramp in my leg the consequence. I manage to get trough and up the other side. In retrospect I am disappointed for not having taken a picture. Even after my offroad driving course I would have never had the confidence to take a heavy bike like the GS (or any bike for that matter) through something like this, and I would have loved to make a video / photo for my brothers. But in that moment, in that heat, in the race against time of remaining water suppplies, the priorities are different. By now riding is managing cramps, now also in my hands, trying to manage clutch, brakes and accelerator.

I carry on and arrive to a massive dry lake with a reasonable hard surface, with sandy patches. After the camel gallop I am happy to be traveling at 60km/h and with that closer to destination ice cold coke, the thought that is driving me on. The environment is barren, nothing ahead, mountains on the right, dunes on the left. Next a sand storm reduces visibility to next to nothing, no dunes, no mountains, only 15 meters of dry lake ahead, a couple of tracks still visible. I am reduced to driving to GPS, tracking a thin pink line on a screen to get me through the desert. It is like navigating on the open ocean. Except for the heat and the sand being swept in your face. When the horizon changes colour, as it does below, know that in a couple of minutes you will see NO more.

Finally I arrive to tarmac and I understand the photos of bikers kissing the road. I arrive to the military town of Foum-Zguid and the first cafe that seems pleasant I stop. I have not even takes my eye-saving goggles off, and I have already ordered an ice cold coke and 2 big bottles of ice cold water. The shopkeeper notices my exhaustion and kindly gives me a bucket of water to wash my face and cool down. There is something about arriving alone on a bike. Here people appreciate it more that the comfortable tourist blasting through in guided air-conditioned Landcruisers, ice cold drinks included. After letting my swollen feet dry again I decide to continue to N’Kob, 200km on tar, and I arrive after nightfall with a beautiful sunset on the way.

I stay at the same beautiful Riyadh we had stayed before, a good night’s rest is sorely needed, and the salad, fruit and brochettes are wonderful and exactly what my body needs. I spend the evening reflecting on the harshness of the past few days. It is not a beautiful trip, it is tough on man and machine. If you want to come for adventure and finding limits come here by bike in summer alone. If not, come by bike in winter with others, or take a 4×4.

The major lesson of physical wellbeing is that you will need 8 -10 liters of water without ever needing to pee. You can almost not drink enough electrolytes to be absorbed at the rate they are being consumed. I cannot imagine people actually living in these conditions, knowing that also the winters are harsh and cold. During the trip I was smiling at the stupid problems we create, the often times silly office politics of our workplaces, and how affluence disconnects us from real life values and enjoyment. I am glad I went south, to have made this experience, and I am glad to be back north on a comfortable bed while writing this. No photos nor words can do justice to such hostile territory. And I guess also I will have to prepare for silly office politics when I return to work. For now the next steps are set, on Friday I fly back from Marrakech, Katherine booked the flight. I now need to decide what to do in the meantime (Jebel Sarhro) with 3 days to the flight and how to store the bike until I return.