Arrival in Tangier

After spending a cold night in an olive grove in countryside north of Seville, we got up in the dark. Malvena, unable to function without a caffeine fix, prepared a caffetiere of coffee. I was the only one brave/stupid enough to endure a shower courtesy of warm water poured out of a plastic bottle on to one,s body parts. Once back on the road, the wind got up to gale force so much so that when we reached Tarifa the ferry to Tangier had been cancelled owing to the rough seas necessitating that we go to Algeciras where the ferries are bigger. Chaos ensued. Some had been cancelled and a huge number of cars and lorries were forced on to the 4pm sailing. Drivers faced bottleneck after bottleneck with horns blaring and arguments flaring. It took 3 hours to board and once on we had to queue for an hour to have our immigration cards stamped. The ferry left at 1930 and we arrived in the dark. By the time we had sorted the car insurance it was nearly 10 o'clock, and since the wind was still howling we sought shelter at a hotel in Tangier township. The following day we drove to Rabat where we needed too apply for visas for Mauritania and Mail. Again, we arrived at night, couldn't find a campsite and again booked into a cheap but very nice hotel where the beer and wine was a welcome respite from the days exertions. We're following closely any news of dangers lurking in Mauritania and Mali. We've agreed to make informed decision based on intelligence from people we met who have been travelling through the area of our intended route. While our natural inclinations are to push on, we don,t intend being foolhardy. Discussions with people at the Malian embassy today were very positive and we will travel through Western Sahara collecting information on the way. We'll make a final decision, therefore, on the viability of this trip at the Mauritanisn border. In the meantime, we've decided that if the for runs out and things get really bad, we will eat Ben since he has more meat on him than the three of us put together.

Arrival in Santander

Over the past 18 months we have planned our road trip to West Africa in meticulous detail; the personnel, the route, the logistics, the provisions, the medical equipment required, the necessary vaccinations, visas, insurance, and above all, the vehicles in which we will be spending most of the next three weeks. It has been an often tortuous process - purchasing them, having them properly serviced and then having one of the radiators blow only a few days prior to departure and the finger-biting period in which we were not sure if it would be repaired in time. On the first day after we had docked in Santander against the picturesque backdrop of the snow-capped Pyrenees, we set off on our 4,000 mile journey. At the very first roundabout, I repeat, the first roundabout, I and Malvena watched aghast as Nick, who was leading the way, drove himself and Ben the wrong way round it narrowly avoiding complete disaster almost before we had started.
Having negotiated the oncoming traffic, we set off on the correct side of the road for as far as we could get through Spain. We were approaching a small town just north of Seville as night began to fall. There were no campsites to be found. The resulting first night in a field will be the subject of my next blog.

Lewis Moody

So sad to hear that a shoulder injury has put paid to Lewis Moody's rugby career. His never-say-die attitude on the field was an inspiration. A few years ago I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with the England rugby club where we went dragon-boat racing on the River Thames in London. Lewis was our boat captain - the man who banged the drum telling us when to paddle. He was exceptionally friendly and as much interested in me (a nobody) as I was of him. That's us in the picture. That says a lot about someone in the limelight. Good luck to him in whatever way he fills the void caused by his retirement.