Panniers are packed and I’m ready to go. I’m Sahara bound. For real this time.
The first few days of riding in Mauritania gave me a glimpse of what’s up ahead. But leaving the capital Nouakchott tomorrow morning is when the real party starts. As always when leaning over the threshold waiting to uncover a new unknown – I’m excited out of my wits. What’s a little different this time though, is that I’m also scared shitless.
Of the heat. The winds. The mad distances. The Al-Qaida stories. And more than anything of the fact that I don’t trust neither my body nor bike, as they’ve both been giving me more trouble in the last couple of months than during the previous two years combined.
Tomorrow I’m off. Everything is ready – except me. I was supposed to go yesterday. Or to be honest the plan was to leave already the day before that. Still for no good reason I just haven’t.
Something’s off. But as it goes when it comes to gut feeling, I wouldn’t for the life of me be able to tell you what.
I could wait of course, for that perfect window and the let’s-fucking-do-this feeling that sooner or later is bound to return hand in hand with my physical health. But no. One doesn’t cross the Sahara – the biggest desert in the world – on inspiration. One does it with patience. And if there’s one thing I take pride in having no matter the circumstances (not) given, that is it.
Tomorrow I’m leaving civilisation, trees (read: shade) and phone service behind. When you’re reading this I’m already a couple of days into the nothingness – and I won’t catch you until I eventually come out the other side.
Given that I stay true to my route my next town and first pit stop along the way is Boujdour, Western Sahara. Some 1 000 km from here. And I expect an ungodly headwind through the shadeless and burning hot desert to keep me company every inch of the way there.
Though if there’s one thing we all need to remember, it is to never ever fool ourselves into suffering from the headwinds of life before we can actually physically feel them blasting in our face. And today – the only wind that reaches me is the one from my hotel room air condition.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, will you?
Now – cheers to life! I’ll catch you in a week or three.
Until next time,
Fredrika