Motorcycle Explorer November 2016 Issue 14 | Page 51

Of course, we had to turn back and investigate.
And there, parked on the side of a dusty road in
central Morocco, was a sight that would make the
heart of any lover of outfits and adventure travel
beat a little more erratically: dusty and travel-worn,
four custom-built outfits, pared to the bone, rested,
as if gathering strength for whatever next Africa was
about to throw at them. These were hand-built,
sidecarcross bikes with designs that spoke of
strength and resilience, specially constructed for
long-distance, off-road travel; there was a utilitarian
robustness about them that drew one's eye. We
checked them out, less discretely now, noting the
design of each: a cunningly mounted heavy-duty air
cleaner here, a switch-operated electric motor to
engage the sidecar wheel for extra traction through
mud or soft sand tucked away there; tool boxes and
spares carefully stowed; heavy-duty grab-rail for the
standing sidecar passenger (sometimes known as
the "monkey", for obvious reasons) to cling to while
My son, Gareth, and I had completed the first two
leaning to counter the massive centrifugal forces
pistes from Merzouga to Zagora and M’Hamid to
generated in the turns. It was clear that these bikes
Foum-Zguid in Morocco; both we and the bikes had had been modified and refined on the test track of
taken a bit of a battering and were in need of some
extreme journeys; nothing for show, nothing
serious R&R. I was looking forward to a day or two
extraneous; each bit bolted, welded and strapped
of stress-free riding, a gathering of reserves before into place for a reason.
we attempted the next piste, a two-day desert
We were intrigued and wanted to meet the riders. It
crossing close to the Mauritanian and Algerian
wasn't long before one of them, a wiry-looking
borders.
Frenchman with red-rimmed eyes and hair matted
That was the plan.
with dust strolled over. His hands were calloused
But on trips like these, plans have a tendency to be
and leathery; lumps of knotted muscle corded his
shouldered aside by circumstance - like meeting a
forearms; his grip could have crushed bones.
bunch of Russian bikers the previous year off on a
Introductions were made. They all looked dusty
jolly to Severodvinsk and being invited to join them. and trail-worn. With them was another Frenchman
So it was that, shortly after leaving Foum-Zguid on
riding a KTM300 trail bike.
the long run south, we passed a tatty garage outside
of which were parked some strange-looking
contraptions that could have come straight from the
set of Mad Max.