Day 7 - Boujdour - Dakhla, Morocco

Saturday, 24 October 2009 - Boujdour, Morocco - Dakhla, Morocco - Day 7

Distance: 265km | Time: 4.5 hours | Roads: Excellent

A Nice Surprise

John: Have you seen the goats in Fiji? They have massive nuts.
Jimmy: Yeah, all the goats I've seen have huge nuts.
John: You don't understand, the ones in Fiji take the cake.
Jimmy: I've seen balls in India that drag on the ground.
John: No! I'm telling you, goat nuts in Fiji are enormous!

Engrossing stuff. Jimmy's one-upper personality trait could always be counted on to excite John. Such profound philosophizing filled our long days in the car. Today looked to be especially so. We were we limping along in search of the nearest town with tires. It appeared that John and I, being his constant inhabitants, had rubbed off on Red Rover. Reflecting our shared disposition, he obstinately refused to retain the air we continually pumped into his leaking tire. This obduracy cost us a good amount of time, considering that we were compelled to stop every 50km for reinflation. For this task we had "Thomas," our handy compressor, who turned out to be quite a worthy purchase. He was a small little bugger though. I imagine it would take him about five minutes to properly inflate a bicycle tire. John offered a little more creative metaphor, "It's like a pygmie running a marathon." Either way, you can see how each stop was a guaranteed 20 minute hold up.

I should admit that the current predicament was of our own making. Brazenly disregarding the advice of the Moroccan police, we had plowed forward instead of backtracking the 80km to the last town we passed, Boujdour. The logic ran that the time lost stopping and starting would be canceled out by the time calculated to make the 160km U-turn. The risk of not finding tires - becoming stranded in the desert - as we were told was in fact the case, was discounted by John's conviction that a) the cops were ignorant of their own territory or b) they were purposely misleading us. Either way it was a negative opinion of the locals' intelligence (and a good indicator of John's self-confidence), which should be reconsidered. Our Michelin map was offered up as clear evidence corroborating his spurious rationale: the town recommended by the police was the same size as the the one closer ahead. This according to the map legend.

Once we passed the purported town - constituted by an abandoned gas station and a handful of crumbling houses and shacks (basically Nico's imaginary Tan Tan) - we knew we were in for a long haul. We had intended to reach the Morocco-Mauritania border by late afternoon but that ambitious goal was quickly abandoned.

The day was not entirely fruitless. We learned two valuable lessons. First, not to blindly trust Michelin's sketching capabilities and, second, to listen to those who know better. Our accidental discovery of Dakhla made it all the more worthwhile.

A Jewel in the Rough

Dakhla is a peninsular outcropping in the southern reaches of Morocco/Western Sahara. Unlike Essaouira and Agadir, its popular northern counterparts which are favored beach resorts among travellers and tourists, Dakhla had escaped the clutches of industrial tourism. A beautiful stretch of white beaches enclosed by sand dunes meet you on your drive towards the city limits. I must say, it was one of the most refreshing sight since we had left Barcelona.

We immediately hunted for a tire shop upon entering the city. After a good flicking off from a young grade-schooler and five stops for directions, Red Rover finally rolled into mechanic alley. Prospective mechanics bombarded us, each trying to win our business. We picked one more or less at random and got to work, which there was a good amount to do. Our list included two new tires for the Turtle, one of which was mounted on the hood of the car; purchasing spare tires for Red Rover, with the extra one to be mounted on the side of the car; and welding the gaping hole in the Rover's muffler as well. Due to its larger tire size, only one spare tire was able to be obtained for Big Red. So we settled for an extra rim with the intent to find a tire later in the journey. In preparation for Sylvain's arrival, we also splurged on a newly-crafted roof rack, which was placed on the Turtle.

While the carwork was underway, Kim and I befriended an extremely hospitable local, named Tarik, who entertained us and showed us around the city. Even though he was deaf, we were able to understand his gesticulation better than the broken English spoken by most others. He showed us where we could buy the spray paint necessary to decorate our cars and even shared the little food he had for lunch with Kim. I can easily say he was the most amiable and kind person we had come in contact with the entire trip.

Word of advice to those who go to Morocco - try the crepes. Absolutely scrumptious. Plain, with chocolate, lemon and sugar, eggs, anything really. Can't go wrong no matter what. We treated ourselves to some while waiting the four hours for the work to be finished. Afterwards, we went to a run-of-the-mill restaurant and ordered a round of chicken and fries, with salad and bread as appetizers. We try to experiment with the local dishes, but once in awhile you just need something that you know will fill your stomach.

In the end, the day was quite productive despite having to cut our distance short and stay in Morocco an extra day. 3,000km into our trip, our checklist was now almost complete. With one more tire, we would be prepared for almost any (conceivable) contingency.