Moroccan Sahara 3 Merzouga

With a pillow beneath my head, one above, and both ears plugged so deeply the plugs met in the middle, I was able to sleep amid the barrage of flatulence and snoring.

At 5:55, I awoke, laughed with Jason and Damo, wished Jason a happy birthday, and then left to explore the Gorge (photos above and below)

The roads were empty, the hotels just waking up, and tour drivers were prepping vans, ready for the Europeans and North Americans to spew forth.

I passed a camel rider and enjoyed the quiet roads—great scenes all around.

I turned back to return to the excellent Dar Essaya Hotel (for breakfast), as school kids began lining up for their buses—it was already getting hot.

After breakfast, we spoke with the Tenere Riders; they were paying €2.5k for their week of riding, somewhat more expensive than our Royal Enfield rental.

We followed the Moroccan TET over the low Atlas heading south. My bike today is the Himalayan 411, the mountain goat of motorbikes. No top speed to speak of, but it can tractably climb anything. It certainly seemed easier than the others, judging by the intercom chat.

The chaps kept asking when we'd reach the road. All I could say was "soon," as I didn’t know either. A few new terms have entered our vocabulary: 

safe - to be said before flatulence, to prevent being punched on the arm.

soon - to describe the miles until the road starts.

Carol - to be used when getting a mile to km conversion wrong.(in reference to Carol Vorderman.)

Childish, I know, but fun none the less as the miles pass.

Above - Andre asking if he can stick with our group.

A few miles later, a CRF300 sporting EU plates rushed past. Little did we know at the time, but Damo would buy him lunch later. All date-like

Later, we saw Damo’s date at the side of the track walking back from a wild toilet stop. Later still, he passed us again, but signaled us to stop—he’d broken his clutch cable and wanted the safety of the group. His name was Andre, from the Netherlands, a nice guy, 62 years old, doing a 3200km tour before he was “too old.” I assume that’s when the romance started.

Our destination this evening is Merzouga, a place I’ve been several times before, famous for its dunes. Uniquely, on this visit, we approached several hotels looking for one with a bar.

After walking away from Merzouga Touriste Hotel and its huge queue of Chinese tourists, we ended up at Kasbah Merzouga—a hotel built from straw and mud. It's literally at the end of the road as the photo below bears witness.

Popular with camel herders, it served beer from a bar (full of locals smoking) but also, much more interestingly and popular, had a shed for prohibition-style takeout (€70 for a 24-can slab). It did a roaring trade all night with 4x4s coming via the dessert, picking up slabs and dissappearing back to the sands..