Lumpy, bumpy, single track, potholes and gravel. I almost feel at home-  and now, more and more we’re  ‘playing chicken’ with the local traffic competing for road space. You could lose this game, badly, and there’s no prizes for winning anyway.  From now on, traffic got more assertive – priority was usually given to whatever had the most wheels! Having said that, it’s not like the European way – most traffic was not at all agressive, just assertive. Many times we’d actually be given priority at for example roundabouts, where often a local driver already on one, would stop so that the entire group could pass through as a group. A little disconcerting at first, but at no stage did I feel threatened by the huge and varied clot of vehicles, especially in towns. Quite refreshing after a lifetime of riding my Bike in Europe.
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Up til now it’s been fairly ‘civilised’. Though I look upon that word in a different light since crossing the Sahara. (That sounds soo pretentious, doesn’t it?!).  But seriously, thus far it’s been a journey of city to city, urban to rural and back again, little real rough living – unless you count my fellow travellers.  From here on it gets a little wilder. Not hair raising wild, that simply never happened. Not even when it got a little hairy (sic!) in the slightly dodgy terrain further south – more about that later.  But there was a definite shift after Marakkech. I’ll put some video clip links to show just how much the land changes and with it the outlook to this journey.
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Apologies to my many followers.
O.K. then – Mr. Toad – for the message!
I have been somewhat busy of late preparing and delivering presentations of the trip.
Tomorrow I WILL get back into this.
Really!
~~~
Thanks folks.

Reading my handwritten notes I can almost just copy them down here. An unusually literate moment for me!
Though in hindsight i wonder is it that as the trip gets in some ways at least tougher – so do i function better as a result?
I mean that to survive, enjoy and get the best out of something like this, you really do need to get your sh*t together (man!). As in; if you’re not fit to function totally independent of any and all other people and not rely on them for your inner feeling of well being – forget it and go home.
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First off – remember the sandy ‘piste’ of a road in the Blue Stones video? if you didn’t look at the vid – just think soft, loose, shifting sand with occasional lumps, bumps and rocks and lots of cursing and the odd pulled muscle.
O.K. then.
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o.k. i blew it. yeah – i know. i should have added another post soon…er.

most remiss of me, i can only apologise.

Excuses to follow….

~ Real Life© has got in the way. my job for one, MAG work for another and health for yet another.

not looking for sympathy (as if i’d get it!) but to put youz (both of my readers LOL) out of my misery, here’s the thing;
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if you’re peeved at my lack of progress – well, i’m furious with myself.

It is not easy to keep up the momentum required to write something even half literate on such a regular basis. This cant be compared to the waffle, wittering and ramblings on a  Motorbike website you can just wander into and utter inanities on someone elses thread and then disappear.

This, if it’s worth doing at all needs more.  More structure, continuity, sense and …. oh, i dunno – call it doing it justice or something along those lines.
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first off – Laayoune is also called Layoune and La’Youn. all depends on which map/signpost/GPS you’re looking at.

Brief description of The Western Sahara;

It starts somewhere vaguely south of Tan Tan  – from here on, all measurements, distances or otherwise sort of fade into meaninglessness. It’s a reminder of where in the world you are. The Sun is the best timepiece. Your own butt the best measure of how far you’ve travelled and your gut the best judge of how long until dinner.
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