TEAM RURAL CHIC

PLYMOUTH DAKAR 2005

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Team Journal cont...

Western Sahara

 

The next day we planned to reach Dakala which was the last town before the road ran out. The trip down through this part of the world was fairly uneventful apart from numerous police checks and the Fiats carburettor consistently blocking up, which then involved taking it apart to flush the sand out.

 

After many hours of driving, once again in the dark, we reach Dakala, which is build out on a large spit of sand, where we stayed in a campsite that actually had hot showers! On the way down the front of our stereo decided to fall off, which is still a mystery to this day on how it happened, so the priority on the rest day was to buy jerry cans and get a new stereo.

 

                We went into town in the morning with the sons of Hasselhoff as they needed a sump guard to be fitted to their somewhat ill prepared golf. We arrived and found a garage where the standard African reply was received that the sump guard would take half an hour. The wait was fine as we trekked into town to find the various bits. Firstly we managed to find a SONDIE car stereo much to our amusement, and with great joy I bought it. We then moved on to get jerry cans, we spotted some likely contenders on the street, and some teenage kids then tried to sell them to us. I was suspicious about whether they leaked or not, so I did what most people would do, I opened up the container, and blew in it. No leak, that was a good thing, but then I noticed a liquid at the bottom so proceeded to tip it out. As it fell onto the hard mud pavement, narrowly missing my flip-flop clad feet, this liquid which turned out to be high strength industrial acid started to burn a hole into the ground in a kind of fizzing cartoon fashion. I immediately panicked thinking I had doused myself with this solution and expected to look down and find I only had four toes left. Much to my relief my toes and my newly bought flip-flops had both made it through.

When we had bought all the desert kit, i.e. jerry cans and stereo we returned to the garage to collect the car, unfortunately the African 30 mins turning into a 4 or so hour wait for this dam sump guard. This normally wouldn’t have been a problem, but little did we know we had entered the real of the ‘Cadeaux zombies’, this being the description we gave to the phenomenon of one small child appearing and asking for a cadeaux, which then led to another, then another until you end up seeing scores of kids running at you from all streets shouting ‘cadeaux, cadeaux’ and clawing at you. With all the patients in the world we sat there for around four hours repeating again and again that we did not have any cadeaux’s to give. All I can say is that our rest day in Dakala was anything but a restful day.

 

The final day of roads began by leaving Dakala, we had stocked up with food, fuel but unfortunately no stereo, as the Sondie we had bought broke before we even plugged it in, and to top that off a second one we had bought also broke, so we were driving music less. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem but 12 hours on the road with nothing to look at but sand and camels begins to grate after a while.

 

On reaching the Mauritanian boarder the road ran out. Here we left the Moroccan side with very little hassle, and after another attempt at unblocking the carb.  we moved off.

 

On entering no-mans land where the minefield begins we were met with a couple of guards then just a rocky path with went ahead. The problem with the minefield is that although tracks could be made out there seemed to be loads of them, and ever so often you would see a car that had be wasted on one of these poor excuses for a track. Anyhow, a guide sprung from nowhere and helped to lead us through to the Mauritanian side. As we were traversing the minefield surprise surprise whose car should pack in terminally but the famous Sid, whose luck seemed have not changed one bit. This breakdown brought the total for Sid to 4 serious breakdowns as well the theft of all of his documents and passports!

 

Once the bribing had been carried out in the small wooden shacks that resembled a Mauritanian boarder post, we continued into Nouhdibou, which was the biggest shit hole I had ever seen. It was what you may imagine Mogadishu to be like but without the machine guns and RPG’s. It consisted of mud roads, hundreds of goats, and some of the most shagged cars I have ever seen which were still in use. Here the Renault 12 seemed to be the car of choice.

 

The evening began with us entering our campsite/enclosure. Much to our credit as experienced off-roaders we managed to get the car stuck in sand in the centre of the campsite, although I would like to point out we were not the only ones!

 

That evening was dictated by a hunt for beer, we managed to track down a Chinese, yes, a Chinese restaurant in the middle of Nouhadibou. This restaurant also doubled up as a bar/brothel. The fact that the word bar was included in the title quickly made our minds up that it was the place to go. When we entered the building it was a very funny site. It was fairly empty but had a few men dancing in the corner to bad Euro music. The odd individual would come in for a quick fight with the over enthusiastic bouncer/owner of the bar, then to be quickly ejected. The whole night ensued with a humorous touch, fuelled by the ever flowing Chinese import beer that was available, we all trooped back to our compound to get a well deserved sleep.

 

 

Desert Section

 

The next morning was the start of the desert section. We got up fairly early and re packed the car in an attempt to try and get some weight off the back and onto the front. We pretty much achieved this by tying two of our spare wheels to the front of the car, on the bull-bars. In preparation some of the others decided to get a trim, with Alex from the bucking broncos going for a Mohawk style hair cut, and various others going for different fetching designs! With the final demise of Sid’s car Ru and I managed to loot the car stereo, much to our delight as ours had packed in back near Dakhla.

 

We moved off with our guide Hamine towards the beginning of the desert route. We soon pulled off the tarmac and onto the sand. The initial feeling was one of nervousness as we nursed our car over what we thought to be very rough terrain, we later found out that this first section was actually the easiest, and we had far far worse to come. We continued on what was a fairly hard and smooth surface, which proved no real problem to drive on. Everything was going well for at least the first 20 km! At this point we were forced to stop as the team badger racing were overheating. However luck had it that they had spare fan, which was the problem, so we were soon back on the move.

 

The going started to get much tougher as we progressed. The surface became really rocky in some sections followed by fairly long sections of really soft sand. The problem with this is that you needed enough speed to be able to get through the soft sand, but you had to be going slow over the rocks to prevent ripping the bottom of your car off. It really was not easy at all. The two four by fours were having no problem, but us with the smallest engine and the lowest ground clearance in the group we having all kinds of difficulties. The only was I can descried the driving we were having to do would be as if you were seeing what that small camera attached to the top of a rally car sees. We were absolutely flying through the soft stuff otherwise we would have no chance of getting through it, it was then a matter of trying to avoid the large rocks, or just trusting our sump guard to take the brunt, which it did admirably. At the end of the first days driving we had covered around 60 Km only, and been stuck in the soft sand numerous times. We were totally knackered, and with the prospect of setting the tent up in the dark, as well as all the other things that have to be done, we were really feeling worn out.

 

The second day, which is well known to be the hardest day began slowly, as after the first 500 metres 3 or 4 of the cars got stuck (one of which being us). Radar team, who clearly could have done with radar, not only managed to get stuck but also hit a large rock, which bent in the front end of their car. This would not normally be a problem but the from end was bent in so much that it was catching on one of the front pulleys. After pulling the bend out with the bronco we carried on for at least another 10 km. At this point, once again the radar was not working for team Radar, as they hit a large rock at high speed which was covered by a bush, with a large smash and a sudden loss of oil pressure a rather annoying whole the size of a fist was smashed through the sump.

 

When we had stopped and looked at the problem the guide insisted it was terminal, but with the standard British determination we spend 3around 3 hours gluing the sump back together with liquid metal and the remaining parts which hadn’t disappeared. This involved turning the car on its side, and then the long and tedious task of trying to piece together the puzzle of the sump, which as always never fits how it should! Anyway much to the guides as well as our surprise the repair held with only a small oil leak. We were back on the move.

 

Because of this slow repair most of the afternoon was gone so we carried on as best we could. As it began to get dark the Fiat was still experiencing regular carburettor problems, which was starting to get annoying, each time we cleaned the jets it ran fine for about 10 km but then stopped again. The majority of the group had gone ahead and finally with it getting dark Alex in the Bronco decided just to tow us to the ever-nearing campsite. As we caught up with the others we noticed team ReVOVLOrs bonnet raised, but also John lying on the ground. This was not a good situation as we were in the middle of nowhere and it was dark by now. As we arrived it turned out that their radiator had exploded and the water and steam had hit John in the body and the face. It looked pretty serious and there was a slight panic on what to do. With everyone’s quick thinking water and wet towels were placed on his face and body, and the guide decided to drive ahead with him to the campsite. The campsite only consisted of a couple of tents so I’m not too sure what difference the place was going to make. Anyhow, now with one broken Volvo on our hands, as well as our dodgy Fiat we were in a slight situation. I had temporarily fixed the Fiat so we all agreed everyone would drive off after the guide whilst the Bronco would tow the Volvo to the site. We were first behind the guide, but he must have been about 1 km ahead of us. The sand was really deep so we couldn’t stop or slow down. We also had the problem that in the dark lights or no lights it was very hard to see which way the tyre tracks were going. We were bombing along with the constant thought we would loose power and get stuck in the dark, when suddenly with a flash all but the sidelights blew. This was not getting any better! For obvious reasons we had to continue along what we thought was the right route, so with Ru shouting directions whilst looking out of the window I continued to drive almost blind through the dark. I think we must have gone wrong a few times, as the car seemed to carrier up a few steep sand dunes, where we quickly had to change our minds and turn back down them. After what seemed like ages we saw a light in the distance, and headed towards it. By the time we finally reached the campsite we were running with the choke on as the carburettor was blocked again, and felt totally exhausted due to the concentration of the past 10 or so minutes.

 

When everyone finally arrived we were able to settle down. Thankfully John’s burns were not half as bad as they could have been, with most the damage on this torso rather than his face. Their Volvo radiator has completely blown the side off, and so with further inspection it looked terminal, luckily there wad another Volvo in the group, so with a bit more spectacular bodging and some luck that the other Volvo part fitted, Declan managed to piece together their radiator, and then used Badger racings spare to cool their car. Whilst all this was going on I decided to try and fix the Fiat once and for all. After totally dismantling the carburettor to my surprise I found a large lump of silicone stuck in the float chamber! God knows how it got there but dam the person who decided to silicone up the car! After I had found that the majority of the next day went very smoothly, albeit the standard getting stuck in the sand every 20 mins.

 

We finally reached the edge of the National park, which is marked by a large whale skeleton and a couple of bribe loving officials, just before we had managed to launch the car over and into a kind of natural ditch, this ditch caused us to bend up the steering, so the car not only didn’t drive in a straight line, but it also made some new nasty noises to keep us amused. After paying an extortionate 20 Euros for the privilege of driving through the park we moved off, passing a swarm of kids screaming cadeaux at the top of their voices. The campsite was only a short distance through the fishing village so we stopped there for the final night.

 

After an evening of much gin and what was supposed to be camel, but I had my suspicions that the local cat had volunteered its services (last time I looked camels had much longer legs than 4 or so inches so I was a tad concerned when I was chewing on a very small let bone) we went off to our mock-Bedouin style tent for a bit of a rest.

 

The next day proved to be fairly eventful for the Fiat. We left the camping to go onto the beach. As we reached the beach the race was on to beat the tide and get to Nouakchott. When we first drove onto the beach it was a fairly surreal experience, where the art of driving on it was to get as close to the firm sand which was by the water as possible without getting the car soaked which in turn made you break down. If you tried to drive higher up the beach you were met with the infamous soft sand once more, therefore ended up getting stuck again. Anyway we were driving happily along the beach watching the bird life and listening to a bit of reggae when one of us stupidly said ‘ god this is easy’ more fool us….

 

After a good hour or so of sand boarding down this huge dune peppered with dead locusts, and Benja form team badger racing sampling the delights of wake boarding we decided to move on. After fifteen minutes or so came the nightmare (I must remind you of the previous comment ‘god this is easy’!) We suddenly noticed the cars in front stopping. This was because we were met with a large outcrop of rock, which disappeared into the sea. The guide proceeded to tell us that we had to drive through the sea in order to get passed this obstacle which to add to the fun happened to have the tide quickly washing around the rocks. All the other cars managed to negotiate this problem with minimal trouble (some more than others) and then last up was me and the Fiat. Ru at this point had decided that sitting on the rocks filming was a better idea than taking on the Atlantic so after trying to point out that the Fiat quiet simply would not run through that depth of water however excellent anyone is at driving the guides begun to usher me through.

 

I waited in what could be described as a small cove trying to time what the waves would do, then as I reluctantly moved off everyone was egging the Fiat to make it… Then to no surprise, and I should add not even very far into the sea the Fiat stopped dead. This is when slight wisp of concern crossed my mind. I started gesturing to everyone on the beach to help push me out. The majority (no names for those who didn’t!) legged it into the sea to try and get my out. Mean while the Fiat had begun floating at the back end, this gave me some concern, until I looked down at the floor pan. I then had huge concern as I found the water quickly rising above my ankles! With desperate shouting and lots and lots of swearing (I can laugh now!) I was gesturing to everyone to help. The problem was that they were all helping and the car still wouldn’t move. It got to the stage I thought the yellow Fiat (now named the yellow submarine) was lost to the Atlantic, but then rumbled up the saviour that was the Bronco. What I recon must have been the last few minutes before I went down with my ship Alex in the Bronco fixed up a towrope and pulled/floated me to safety.

 

Now I don’t mind admitting that I was a tad angry when I was finally landed like a wet fish, it was like some stupid comedy scene when I opened the car door. Water flooded out onto the sand, and I trudged out of the 2 inches of water that would still not drain. At this stage I was fuming, namely with Ru who had found his more artistic side and decided to film the whole event. After shouting at him a lot and I seem to recall flicking water from the foot well in his face, I began taking the bonnet off. Unfortunately the guide said we had to move off before the tide became even higher so once again Alex came to the rescue and towed me for a good 5 miles or so.