Race to Dakar: Scrutineering

Up at 5:30am, in the bright lights of the bar that had served as our bedroom, chaos ensued as a
the Moroccan locals rushed to cars and attempted to leave the Spanish enclave of Melilla.

It didn't work, we all had to sit in massive jam, the locals shouting and honking, veins bulging, we relaxed in the truck and watched the drama. Upon reaching the security gates it was amusing watching Tom handover an A4 faded photocopy of his v5 documents to the unimpressed border police. Luckily, Maxime, our French rider was able to talk us through. (Toms mum is posting the real one to Daklah where we will intercept it before the Mauritanian border.  A v5 is your vehicle's passport)

We couldn't get insurance or SIM cards at the port as everything was closed and we wanted to move on, attracting as we were, a crowd of 'helpers' and beggars.

With Peter, the Danish rider, accompanying in convoy we headed south towards the bivouac.

 Not being able to get SIM cards left us without the ability to read the instruction email and translate the coordinates on Google maps.   After a fraught few minutes, with pressure growing as the checking-in process only runs betweens certain times, we eventually found it after buying a data SIM at a petrol station and fitting into a phone.

It was here at the Scrutineering that I met Adam, a giant of man from Holland.  He was happily doling out advice about avoiding two broken collar bones, 'learn from my mistakes', 'I somersaulted 8m', 'and snapped like twigs' were phrases I remember.

We all passed the technical inspection, but at document inspection the rest of the team were caught without road insurance and have to collect some tomorrow.

There's some serious money here, campers, trucks, race replica Rally bikes, but the atmosphere is fantastic. At the other end of the spectrum, two Irish lads have driven a £1300 jeep Cherokee from the emerald Isle 'to have a go'. Amazing.

We're starting to assemble for the evening debriefing, a big day awaits. Love it.