this uninvited, "illegal" going to be visiting a boys. However: You let me not to the wheel, without having to give me more water in the bag, dates, and other sticky food. With also a handful of pita bread, a few bars, I was pushed biscuit and some fruits in the baggage of children. Salam alaikum.
You could get at the time only by Jeep or camel to Ghadames. I had to do fully, hold one of the two sand tracks driven by car tires. And crucial: not entirely losing the car tracks. The distance was about 200 kilometers south, then right about 150 kilometres and back to the coast (about 500 kilometers). My desert. In between, at a distance of 20 to 40 kilometers, repeatedly settlements, tents and nomads. Unfortunately no oases as they knew her photos, but bushes, fountains, white-washed and lehmfarbene, very small huts. Life previously held under tents or grass roofs existed? Savannah grass? I don't know more it. Signpost? Nil return. Drinking water was only from leather bags and my bottles. The easiest task was to find a place to sleep. A family with a loam House or tent, where I myself could spread, found himself always.
Now, one must not think that there only wonderful white or yellow sand is. Increasingly, I found even fixed dark sand with pebbles and stones in between, and savannah. The small dunes wind had blown up the loose sand which I had to drive around. And it wasn't even that I sat after careful directions of the locals on the wheel and drove through 30 kilometers in one piece. Already after a few kilometres, I ended up mostly at a junction and was thinking together about me my route, with help of the Sun and my Sahara map of Michelin. Without that, I would have never found Ghadames. In it, even tiny settlements with fountains and palm trees were listed next to sand slopes but rarely inhabited.
The driving was at times only a slide. The sand was fine, it was indeed impossible to keep the balance. My wheels side slipped away, and the world's best Campagnolo derailleur
crunched despite all lubrication and oils. While I had my luggage again enormously reduced. No more than 15 kilos. Including bread, dates, biscuits and water in my aluminum water bottles. Were still a relic of my DDR driver time there» quick pull called". I arrived around noon in a settlement, they immediately offered me a shadow square, and handed me a pitcher of water. I will never forget those moments when rann the cool water from the jug down my throat. A meal was brought me lamb and millet, for example, I had a similar fuzzy feeling.
Hygiene was held in the desert - sand. Yet I felt soon dirty. I can not remember ever to have visited a toilet. Apparently, I transpirierte all liquid. Can not remember to have denied water. Wonder: it was hot, roaring hot. During the day, I could not shake off the heat. Sometimes approached the sandy desert near, and her yellow and gray walked the distance from a hazy purple, which finally was in the pale blue of sky. The horizon twinkled and became blurred. Because of these circumstances, I cycled only from early morning until the middle of the day. Also, I had not the right clothes with shoes, socks, shorts, and shirts. Much was damn exhausting - the pedal Cadence, the balance in the track hold, the view into the empty landscape. No tree, no Hill stopped visibility over the handlebars.And I was always hungry. Hunger seemed to have become my ally. He held while discreetly in the background, but always felt, without being intrusive. Since all of a bowl ate, I said to myself after some invitations: you need to access, otherwise, the bowl is empty. Do not look around,