Today was a day we were all looking forward to, and one we were also a bit concerned about. We’ve heard that the Atlas is spectacular, a real nature’s  wonder. We had also been warned that the road could occasionally be closed due to snow, and that rain is highly likely at this time of year. Also, today was going to be a very long day in terms of distance as we were heading past Rissani -- the beginning of the Sahara. An effective routine and luck on our side would be paramount if we did not want to get caught out at night again -- no rest for the wicked they say… I guess Africa thinks that we are really wicked and that today was the day that it would give it to us and put us through purgatory.

Riding into the Atlas became ever more spectacular for every kilometer -- over all, probably the most asstounding nature any of us had ever ridden through. No pictures or words can give justice to this place -- it needs to be experienced. But, the Atlas also has something more to offer besides beauty, namely weather. Lots and lots of weather, and of every single kind -- all packed into one day. The first half was easy, and our scooters coped surprisingly well at this altitude (Magnus and Adrien had on our lunch stop rejetted all our scooters for higher altitude)

It started out great, with the sun heating our bodies. Then we got fog so thick we could barely see our front fenders at times. Then we got wind, from the left, which is the worst place to get it from on a Vespa. Then we got rain, then hail, then snow. Ice and snow would constantly cover our visors, making it difficult to see. The roads were so covered by black ice that the strongest side winds would take our scooters sliding sideways. Riding was very slow and extremely difficult, and it got worse the higher we got -- at one point the GPS read just short of 2200 meters altitude!!! A man driving in the opposite direction stopped and asked if we were ok. He adviced us to really hurry up as this could get much worse, if not, we would risk not getting accross today. (we were later told that the road was closed shortly after we had come through).

The video above is not available on phones, netboards, apple tv or tv due to music licencing issues. It is  available on computer only! If you are not on a computer allready, get to one -- the video is good.

Although we were prepared for this type of situation, none of us wanted to have to spend the night, or two nights for that matter, in the freesing cold Atlas mountains with little food and water. We had to compromise our safety to push forward. It was extremely hard, being pounded by wind and ice, constantly getting into near wipe out situations, and constantly worrying about crashing or getting stuck. Having ridden a lot of winter, Joachim kind of felt it auxhilarating. But, when asking Adrien on the Intercom if he was ok, we got a direct, short and honest answer “NO”! He was hating it, which Magnus and I found kind of amusing. We had asked for an adventure, and now we had gotten exactly what we had bargained for.

This was a real reality check for us. Back home we had told ourselves repeatedly how hard this would be, how we would be stuck riding from sunrise to sunset most days, that we would have breakdowns, that we would be hungry, that we would be affraid, that we would have accidents, and on and on. Still, deep inside we all hoped Africa would be easy on us and spare us from most hickups. Well, reality bites. Having had long days every day so far, with the most difficult parts in front of us, it struck us quite hard. This is what we came for, and now we are getting it. Suck it up, suck it in, and enjoy!

Coming out of the Atlas, we rode into some great open plains. The high side winds were rough, and we would have complained a lot about this if it wasn’t for the spectacular nature. Little did we know at this point that the wind would not stop until we were way into Senegal, allsmost two weeks away.

Further on, we rode into great canyons with oasises at the bottom. Wow, what a day so far -- the best day of riding ever, in all our lives! Still, we were getting in a real hurry. The weather had slowed us down so much that we were once again caught out at night, riding on narrow, and hilly roads with dangerous traffic and lots of sharp bends and steep cliffs. And, ahead of us was a few kilometers of semi/offroad riding waiting for us.

We were now entering the Sahara. More about that in “Part 2″ of this adventurous day.

The hotel receptionist told us that there would be a swift ten minute border crossing into morocco from Ceuta (a spanish enclave on the African continent). Great we all agreed, lets take it slow in the morning – our protocol og being on the road at sun rise can wait another day.

In the morning we had a big breakfast, and the bread and apricot jam was delicious (little did we know that we would be living mostly on bread, water and apricot jam for all meals besides “dinner” for the remainder of the trip). We called up Kristina in Norway (Magnus’ girlfriend) and all sang happy birthday. Spirits were high – today was going to be a breeze.

We arrived at the border in a matter of minutes: Exchanging Euro into Dihrams on the black market, hiding our unlicensed CB radio antenna, and exiting Spain/Ceuta was – well, all a breeze. Things are looking good. Who ever said that Africa was not civilized?

Next we arrived at the Moroccan side of the border and cut to the front of a very long cue. Here we were told that we would have to wait for the border officials to show up – I guess they felt that today would be a breeze also and that there was no need to get out of bed and get to work before ten.

Right next to us, a woman (presumably of Moroccan decent), lost her marbles and went completely ape shit for no apparent reason, attacking a couple sitting in the car right in front of her own – kicking, beating and tearing at the car at all might (at one moment I could swear I saw her chewing off a piece with froth coming out of both sides of her mouth – an exaggeration maybe, but not by much). All of a sudden, the very busy strip was void of all people as all living species in a hundred meter radius had gone for cover, even the police and army. What a gal! Just as things were calming down to merely a noisy rumble, her skinny husband felt it safe to get out and yap a bit himself.

Anyways, the border crossing took two and a half hours. Right on the opposite side we find a brand new four lane highway… with us being the only ones riding on it. Big egos need big roads i guess, and this was perfectly suited for ours – the brave scooter adventurers who would tear a hole in the sound barrier as we sped through Africa. We were at the top of the world, and nothing could bring us down… except for maybe Adrien who’s mind was on his bodge fix from the night before (we can now report that upon our home return Adrien ordered enough of these to last him a life time – Sett inn lite bilde med lenke med teksten “bodge repair on Adrien’s mind).

The landscape changed quickly and roads turned narrower and twisty as we entered the Rif mountains – it now felt more like Norway… that was until we were introduced to African driving culture. Shortly summed up: My vehicle is bigger than yours, so get out of my way. My vehicle is loaded 60 feet high with crates of oranges just about to tip over, so get out of my way. My vehicle is more beaten up and is of less value than yours, so get out of my way. You are a foreigner and as such you should not be here, and hence, if there was to be an accident it surely must be your fault – so get out of my way. My truck has no mirrors, no lights, no wind shield and no brakes, so get out of my way. As a bus driver I get paid for the number of trips I can make in 48 hours without sleep, so i cut every single corner no matter what is in my way – so get the hell out of it. Your scooter fits better in the ditch than mine, so get into it before i put you there. I don’t use indicators as i know where I am going… Allah is with me and will grant me lots of virgins if I die in a holy war (in Africa it is not road rage, it is road war)

A few hours of near death experiences we finally got into the groove of the driving culture. What at first seemed lethaly unpredictable actually ended up feeling quite natural, governed by common sense and.not like at home where people choose an unnatural way of driving, namely by the law.

Once again, we were high on adventure, and it was time to get more “culturally adjusted” now that we were dealing so well with everything else, and the crossroads Derdara – in the middle of no-where, seemed like a good place to do so. We took our chances and got a street side butcher to cook us up a kilo of shish kebab (Joachim knows how to count to one in French, and also happens to know the French word for kilo, which is, well, “kilo”). While we waited for the most delicious shish kebabs we have ever had, a hundred year old really nice geezer wanted to sell us some funnybaccy – the kind of nice geezer that lingers forever and is impossible to get rid of (This is the Rif region, known for its Marijuana business – whether the word Riff-Raff comes from here, I don’t know – but it wouldn’t surprise me).

However nice this experience was, we learned that we should not stop for service – it just kills time. From here on, we decided we would just have to make all our lunches and most of our breakfasts ourselves in order to save time. The long breakfast, the long border crossing, and our long lunch, would lead us to riding in the dark again (a very lethal prospect for a Vespateer in Africa). Also, at Volubilis we had to stop for the required photo op with the roman ruins in the back ground. Our initial goal was set for the foot of the Atlas Mountains, but there was just no chance that this was going to happen. Instead we decided to try to find a room in the very busy city of Meknes. It took a while, riding from hotel to hotel, before we could find one with safe parking. And, can you believe it – a MacDonald’s and a Pizza hut on the same block! Pizza hut it was – we had a feeling that meals would be a bit more, shall we say, rustic, from here on, and that we would yearn for properly cooked western junk food. We were more right than we could possibly imagine at this point – Meknes is the end of civilization.

While eating, we go through the day and agree that we need to get our routine together if we are to make it through this rally. Today was “only” 305 kms on good roads and with zero breakdowns. Even though we woke up at sun rise, we still arrived long after dark and didn’t make it to our initial goal for the day. There would be days ahead where we would travel more than twice as far, under extreme riding conditions, with breakdowns, worse border crossings, and various other hassles. It is not how fast we ride, it is how long we stop, that kills our average. From here on the team improved massively and we started working as one efficient machine…

The last order of business before getting into the saddle was to sort out the not so intuitive Scala Rider* intercom – a routine which was to be repeated several times every single day for the remainder of the adventure. The routine went something like this: “Adrien, you push A, or was it Joachim? No Joachim, it is Magnus who needs to push A then B while we wait. Now you Adrien have to push A, then Joachim B, but don’t hold it too long – just right until the beep, then I wait until I hear rider B connected then I push B and you A… Who do you mean by you? …Or was it B? Hello can you hear me?  What happened to Adrien, did he get disconnected? Hello? Anyone? Ok, everyone reset and start in reverse order… no, you wait until… hello??…R I D E R  B  C O N N E C T E D, hello?, hello? Push B, Who me?, No, Joachim…. Ok… Hey, we are all connected . Let’s roll!!!”

We eagerly rolled out of the warehouse lot  and spun down to the nearest gas station… with a few turns in the roundabout before finding our bearings. Held up by the Policia Municipal who wanted to take photos and a brit who was very interested in what we were doing, the clock was ticking away, and we rudely had to dismiss ourselves – we had to make the ferry. We fueled up and gunned out of there trying to make up for lost time.

Just as we were getting into the groove of things, and just as our grins were about as big as “the great outdoors”, Joachim’s scooter had its first breakdown… after only 30 kms on the road – crap, we need to make the ferry before 15:00 hrs, we gotta fix this quick!

(Murphy’s law dictates that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, and the more precautionary measures one takes, the more likely it is that something will go pear shaped. Well, we had prepared for everything the last 18 months, and as such were doomed from day one. Murphy, in cahoots with Lucifer would ensure that tough became harder).

We had many theories as of what could have gone, and some made us very uneasy. The relief was therefore great when we took off the side cowel and discovered that the spark plug cable had come undone, the easiest “break down” ever. Grins and shades were back on, and the throttle twisted as far as it could go – we would be making the ferry to Ceuta after all. A few wrong turns, with round and round and round in some roundabouts, and we just missed the ferry. Our crossing was delayed an hour and a half – but we would still make it into Morocco. The next ferry however was delayed another 45 minutes… Our plans to make the Spanish Moroccan border in time to put some distance into Morocco the same day, was looking bleak by the minute. But, if everything from here on went smoothly, we would still make it.

A couple of kilometers into Ceuta, still having a chance to make it into Morocco, Adrien experienced his first of many breakdowns to come. His throttle cable had come undone. Our window was shut, we would not make Morocco today. Upon further inspection we found that a part that holds the cable in place had been lost, an integrated part in the headset which was as likely to come undone as winning the lottery. Further still, out of the more than two thousand bits and bobs we had taken along, this part was not among them.

It was getting dark and we were surrounded by an ever increasing horde of shady people, with keen eyes and long fingers, directed at our tools, parts, cameras, etc. It was getting uncomfortable and stressful – we did not want to be here one more minute (at the end of the trip, this place would have seemed like the most peaceful and stressless place on earth). Anyways, it was our first sign of what was to come… and a reminder that it was not a fable when we had repeatedly told ourselves before we left home; that things would not be smooth, that things would go up shit creek just about every day, that things would be hard and frustrating, and that we would end up arriving after nightfall most days and be dead tired and exhausted.

(As we were to become  ever more aware of over every passing day; there is no such thing as “being mentally prepared”. Reality, well, it is reality, and reality can’t be altered by the mind alone no matter what anyone has tried to convince you of. Pain still hurts just as bad no matter how much you have told yourself beforehand that you will be suffering. There is a lot of truth in the saying “reality is a bitch”).

It was given that our window had closed and that we needed to spend the night in Ceuta. Joachim found a hotel and returned to Adrien and Magnus who were working on the fix.  In the end, after three hours, we managed to make a bodge repair with a couple of washers, some epoxy, a hack saw, and lots and lots of silicone – Adrien’s scooter still runs with this bodge fix today.

An hour or so more of adjustments to the scooter, and we decided to treat ourselves to a great meal. Our only regret was that we did not eat more as this was just about the only real meal we would see for the next two and a half weeks.

With enough reality (or bitch if you will) for one day, we hit the sack – exhausted, but happy. The only things on our mind being “we are on our greatest adventure ever – we are really here and we are really doing it, we are here and here is Africa, and with us are our beloved scooters!

Two hours of sleep the last 48 hours and virtually no distance put behind us, day one is over. This was to be the easiest day on our journey.

*The scala rider actually works, but how you get it working is still somewhat of a mystery to this very day. Although a very useful piece of equipment, and one that worked awesome once we got it up and running until the next time it needed a reset due to some interference, opinions were split: Joachim thought that it could need a bit of more development before he could give it more than one thumb up… Magnus on the other hand, who is any manufacturers wet dream as he religiously endorses any product he owns, was of course in love with this product and thought it was stable and intuitive. Adrien, the diplomat, his position was neutral. Even though we don’t see eye to eye regarding how good this equipment actually is, we all agree that it was very useful and that it is probably the best intercom on the market – seeing what others had in the rally, i.e. the Sena which is the nearest competitor sucks in comparison.

Throughout the rally we have mostly been off the grid. The rally did not really pass by that many wifi-hotspots in the Sahara, and those that we came over were slow and difficult to connect to. Our updates through the course of the rally have been through Kristina with whom we have been in touch with through the occaisional SMS and Sat.phone call.

Now that we are back home, the sand is cleansed from our ears and we’re all well rested we’ve decided to do a full, detailed recap of the whole trip. During the following days Joachim will make a post for each and every stage throughout the whole rally. We will combine that with a few photos and videos from the different stages.

Enjoy!

A very, very worn vespa tire.

I finally got news from the guys, a mail saying “We are there – we made it”!

Congrats, guys! 5000 kilometres of hard driving now lies behind you. As the first participants in the Budapest-Bamako rally EVER, you did it on vespas!!!

OMG, only 57 kilometres to go before Joachim, Adrien and Magnus reach Bissau, the final destination of their adventourous vespa rally!!! It has been more than two weeks of hard core vespateering since they left the shores of Spain.

I don’t have much to tell, as I haven’t heard from the guys since yesterday morning. While we wait for more news and pics from Team Bamako by Vespa, here are some fun facts about the country they have just entered; Guinea-Bissau:

Guinea-Bissau is a former Portugese colony, independent only since 1973. The country’s per capita income is one of the lowest in the world, and its human development index is also among the lowest on earth. The capital, Bissau, has a population of 400.000.

We are looking forward to seeing pics from your end of rally-party, guys!

The heat is on as the great Budapest – Bamako rally is coming to an end. Sizzling 45 degrees celsius in southern Senegal today, a sweaty sms from Magnus informed me.

“The jungle is on fire, and we are driving on red dust roads, miles and miles of them”, he continued.

Only one more day of driving remains before our three vespateers arrive at their final destination inn Guinea Bissau. Good luck, guys!!

(Posted on behalf of Joachim:)

We decided to ride like our lives depended on securing ourselves some TLC. For once we beat the pack and secured ourselves a much needed hotel room, and in the finest hotel on our route so far. But Murphy, bestowed by Lucifer himself, decided to give us a real African treat.

Checking out the area arround the hotel, Magnus’s rear shock absorber snapped. As if that was not enough, Murphy decided that every nut and bolt ought to be completely seized up for the occasion. Now we are stuck in the parking lot trying to get things sorted while all the hotel’s luxuries mocks us right in our face, like a field of thorn bushes buried deep into our eye apples.

Murphy and Lucifer can showe it, our spirits are unbreakable. We will dip our filthy bodies into the pool even if it will take us all night and the freshly added pool chemicals will strip the skin off our bodies.

Vespas in the sunset on B2 Beach

Today´s driving – appearantly – was a hot-hot-hot experience! 40 degrees celcius from Mbacké to Tambacounda, Senegal.

According to Magnus, Senegal is a great country: “Everybody smiles and and happy and agreeable. Positive engery here!” Mbacké was filled with donkeys, dust and rittle rattle buses eveywhere, he continued.

Sounds fun and excotic! Will post more pics as they come in. /Kristina

Switching the clutch