Open desert to Barbas Hotel

Up bright and early as usual to find the young man I had spent time chatting with last night was still on the reception desk, he had been awake all night.

We got the bike out of the garage and I loaded up my gear and said goodbye. He said that if I came back this way I can stay at his place, he was a nice young fella, aged 26 and didn’t appear to have many prospects in what he described as ‘this hell hole’! I spy a dead cockroach on the floor and remark upon it, he says ‘there are many cockroaches in this town’ I say ‘do they all look like this?’ He says ‘no, not all of them’ . A fitting statement from a young man trying his best to make a life in this harsh environment.

I expect being in a town on a peninsular literally hundreds of miles from anywhere has its limitations, He wants to visit the UK and start a business as he thinks that we (the UK) offer help, ‘we get nothing from this corrupt Moroccan Government’ I’m sure life could be easier in the UK for someone like him, but I’m not sure it would all be handed to him on a plate! I don’t want to start a debate, just a passing remark under the circumstances!!

So, I set off on the CRF and head out of town, it’s about 40k to get back to the main road and the wind is against me again. Kite surfers are starting early in the bay outside town, even though the tide is out, I’ve never seen so many of them and they all appear to be taking full advantage of the windy conditions. It’s kite surfing central here and it’s obvious why in the relatively ‘sheltered’ bay.

I call in at the petrol station, fill up and hit the main road by the Police checkpoint and turn south. The wind is a little easier on this road and I look out to sea to watch as Dakhla gradually disappears into the ocean haze in the heat of the day.

Its was a wise decision to fuel up early as I pass a road sign declaring the next petrol station is in 169km! The road is good with occasional sand dunes creeping across my path and the occasional deceptive pot hole which appears out of nowhere ready to catch the unwary. The wind occasionally does it’s best to blow me off the road and I appear to be leaning constantly to the right. It’s open desert with sand dunes occasionally appearing miles on the distant horizon but the landscape is truly desolate.

I see little other traffic on this section so I hunker down and I’m set for a 250 mile stint of pretty much nothing. Most lorries pass with slight buffeting bit one almost pulls off my helmet, that was a surprise! I re-adjust and carry on tucking in behind the screen.

About 100 miles further on I pass a sign indicating I have crossed the Tropic of Cancer, I loop back for a picture and proudly add a Traveldri sticker to the many others adorning the sign.

Back on the bike and nothing changes, I don’t take many pictures today as they would all have been the same, I just get on with munching the miles and thinking about the more complicated borders which lie ahead.

From memory I think about the Hotel Barbas but couldn’t really remember how far along this road it is situated. I pass a couple of Police checkpoints and at the final one I’m finally asked for a copy of my ‘fische’.

This document, which was kindly constructed by my eldest daughter, Annie, contains all the details needed for Police checkpoints and I dig one out and hand it over, it does the trick and they ask where I’m staying tonight. They suggest ‘Barbas’ and I ask where is this? The policeman points to the hotel about half a mile down the road!

I have only travelled about 160 miles today and was all set for another hundred miles or more but the desert has dried me to a prune and to be honest I’m ready for a break.

Pulling into Barbas Hotel brings back memories of the last time here and I somehow feel relaxed about the whole thing. I decide to grab a coffee and some WiFi and take time to decide on the next move. The border is about an hour away through the desert and it’s around 2.00pm, if I leave now I can make it to the border by 3.00pm, the border closes at 5.00pm but that would leave me really tight on time and would mean that I would be pushing my luck to find somewhere to stay tonight.

Its a no brainer, I book a room at Barbas and catch up on washing myself in a lovely hot shower (with soap and shampoo provided for a change!) that’s great as I’m getting low on the soap front!

The CRF is parked in the hotel courtyard and I do some basic checks including oiling the chain, the wet weather over the last days have dried it out a bit! I check the tension and it appears to be fine, considering I haven’t tightened the chain since leaving home!

Today saw me pass the 3,000 mile marker since leaving and the bike hasn’t used a drop of oil, there is evidence of a slight weep from the filter casing but that isn’t a problem, the dust here would show up anything so I leave that alone.

Chicken Tagine is on the menu again so I eat in the restaurant close to my bike and plan to get an early night to enable me to leave early for the border.

Leaving Dakhla this morning, overcast and really rather windy! Pretty much most of the towns have grand entrances and exits, a little taste of what’s to come? Or what you have just experienced!

The Tropic of Cancer, I just had to catch this shot!

Traveldri sticker on the bottom left, I wonder how long it will stay there in this windy place?

This was pretty much my view for the day! Incredibly drying wind sucked the moisture from my soul today.

Bike parked in the Hotel Barbas reception area, they are well used to Overland travellers here, it’s all they get and it’s pretty normal for more than one Moto to be parked here!

Hotel Barbas from the road, it’s an impressive sight and offers refuge to weary travellers. There is a supermarket in the complex but sadly it was closed when I arrived.

The usual hotel cats share my travellers gate!

I took a walk out around town, not much happening here and the above fishing boat is a long way from being seaworthy!