Wednesday Now in Rabat having crossed to Tangier this morning and planning an evening meander around the city whilst trying to find a working ATM, a local SIM card and supper. Uneventful day with a lot of motorway just to get the miles out of the way. A number of long standing rally friends on this trip. In theory 8 cars but one, having come all the way from the Hebrides has had to wait in Spain whist the navigator recovers from suspected pneumonia; we wish them a speedy recovery and hope we may see them later on.

We walked from Gibraltar airport across the border but were only permitted entry to Spain on production of our return air tickets – something the Chinese have required for a long time but not a requirement one would expect from European “neighbours”. Maybe its part of their “harass Gibraltar” policy? We shared Charlie’s taxi to the hotel where a very clean Elan awaited us, with smartly blacked tyres – and a boot full of water! Seemingly there had been a lot of weather on the way down; ferries to Spain had been diverted to France – and the rain had found its way into our boot. The hotel were not impressed when I emptied the boot out into the sunshine in the parking outside the front door – suggesting the underground parking instead!

Paul Kane already had his head under the bonnet of his AMX – saying his alternator was faulty despite being repaired – but he did have a spare. More work outside the front door! We later learned that Mark’s MGA also had a spare alternator – in Charlie’s truck and that Paul Merryweather was delayed by the need to change his alternator – definitely the “Alternator Rally” and we’ve not even left the first hotel.
Our only day in Spain took us to Fronterra de la Castello and then to Tarifa, passing stork nests on the electricity pylons en route. The crossing to Tangiers took 45 minutes – about the same time as it took the incoming ferry to offload its cargo of women in chadors each lugging multiple suitcases – there must be a story to this traffic but not sure yet what it is.
Tangier port has changed since our last visit and the patch of rough ground and odd shacks replaced by a paved area and a new terminal building. We had to buy local insurance and attempt to get some Dirhams for the toll road ahead. Then to lunch at the very smart Villa Josephine before the 200 odd km motorway slog to Rabat.
Our hotel was in the Sale district, just across the river from the Souk and Medina. “Blue boats” provided a rowed ferry service across the narrow strip of water – but the price was, shall we say, inconsistent and if you didn’t have the correct change then surprisingly neither did the ferryman! We were in Ramadan, a period of daytime fasting. This means that dusk is party time when families can eat and drink together and restaurant hours and their willingness to serve alcohol were variable. We found the Dhow restaurant (on a dhow) and were asked to wait for half an hour until the kitchen opened (and staff had eaten) but meanwhile we could have a beer – so that was ok! The restaurant was full of tourists and “Tagine of the day” turned out to be chicken and chips. Back to our hotel via the blue boats (now having the correct change!) and we saw groups of families on the beach happily eating whilst on the other bank, children were in the bright dodgems with multi-coloured flashing lights.
We had been warned about traffic police in Rabat and the first to be fined was Charlie, the mechanic, for turning left across 4 lanes of traffic on leaving a petrol station instead of going up to the roundabout and back again. Next day the Bentley did the same and that cost Dh 400 (about £35).
The organiser felt that motorway was not in the spirit of a rally so from the civilisation of the capital city we soon found ourselves driving on rutted tracks where compact mud battered the sumpguard – and the MG had his exhaust pulled off. Then back to motorway for a run down towards Safi and our overnight stop in an isolated guest house on the Atlantic shore and the sounds of waves and wind. No alcohol, no Wifi and plenty of sea mist so not even a sunset. The Bentley crew rolled up very late but without their car which had been left 30km away near some workshops with a hole in the radiator. They had a very imposing radiator protective grille but the damage was on the engine side and seems it was caused by a build up of pressure inside the system. Repairs continue.

Saturday, Allison wanted to visit the Ceramics Museum in Safi

so we deviated from the route before rejoining for lunch and a visit to the fishing port/tourist trap of Essouria and then the hotel a couple of km away.

Sunday and our last day on the coast. Our route was inland through trees and scrubs with plenty of grazing sheep and goats. Then to a hippy surfing village which is threatened with demolition for coffee followed by a run down the coast road to a very large lunch at a restaurant we had visited on the last trip in 2018. After lunch the plan was to continue inland along an attractive valley with hairpins and views before returning to the coast at Taghazout. It didn’t quite work out like that as we had to stop when the throttle return spring came off its retaining plate – and a revving engine is not what is wanted for downhill engine braking! Charlie, the sweep, happened to be right behind us just after we stopped so a cable tie was employed to hold the spring in place.

The car had been spluttering and smelling of petrol – can’t do much about the spluttering as it probably wants smaller main jets but the smell was down to loose carburettor banjo bolts so fuel was leaking out. Once repaired we couldn’t carry on as the road ahead was blocked by a landslide – so about turn! In the hotel car park we were pleased to see the Bentley arrive with a repaired – and flushed out radiator, which had become blocked with accumulated sludge but now ok.

Monday 8th After being pursued round the hotel by one of the waiters last night we expected problems when it came to check out and that bill – but no, there was “nothing to pay”. Today would be a day of contrasts, leaving our modern chain hotel, we quickly encountered heavy traffic and road works round Agadir. Our day would end in an old, family run hotel with wifi that stopped at reception and located pretty much in the middle of no-where. It was overcast in the morning so many of the views were lost in the haze. On our last visit to Morocco we had come across a convoy of Italian camper vans, travelling nose to nail – and today we found them again.

They really didn’t want to vacate the middle of the road so Allison and other navigators gave them a piece of her mind as we tried to exercise our right to be on the tarmac. En route we found Kasbah Tizorgane on a hillock, 800 years old and now a restaurant where we admired the rebuilt stonework and had some very sweet freshly stewed mint tea. Looking down there was scarcely a tree to be seen – just arid sand. Nearing the end we visited Oumsnat a tiny old village just off our route where modern houses jostled with the tumbledown ruins of older generations, all colour matching the steep brown hillside behind. A Maison Traditionelle with its local Berber guide occupied us for a while whilst he explained the layout and customs of the house, its animals and its occupants. Our hotel was along a single track road with raised manholes, camouflaged by drifting sand. The draw here was the Painted Boulders, where a local Frenchman had used 18 tonnes of paint on a group of boulders in memory of his wife. Plans for drinks and nibbles sitting in admiration were shortened by the lack of sun (hazy) and the chill wind – so we had to return in the morning.

Tuesday 9th we regrouped round the boulders in bright sunshine – and were soon on our way. The sunshine faded during the day and by late afternoon the sky was the same brown hue as the land around. This was a good driving day on empty good quality roads with just the occasional sharp dip or bump to remind us to take care. Quite why there are so many excellent roads with no traffic – I cannot say but not complaining! Our route passed through the Ait Mansour gorge, a narrow road overhung with lush greenery; difficult driving as the sun and shade came in rapid succession.

Our objective was the Grand Canyon near the end-of-the-road village of Aoukerda. Fuel was a concern – in general as there were few petrol stations in the area and we were concerned about early closing – but we were ok and fuel was available just a few miles beyond the hotel – always fill up the night before! Jobs today were tweaking the horn cables and tightening up the hand brake in addition to checking the oil.

Wednesday, a driving day. We started with the wind which had blown all night, sand drifted across the road and with open windows we were blasted as we clutched the steering wheel and then corrected when we went between rocks on each side and the side wind was cancelled. After a while the wind abated and the sun took over – 38C Adrian, our organiser arranged a midday coffee stop amongst palm trees and a trickling brook, then back to the road and a fast run on good, empty roads to the hotel.

This evening is the end of Ramadan, today we drove through largely silent towns, shops closed and a few pedestrians walking about – and groups of children trying to touch the cars as they drove by.
Thursday we were re-routed away from a gentle drive and placid motorway back to the Tizi ‘n Test – probably the country’s most (in)famous pass. Last time we were here the southern approach was gravel track; this time it was all tarmac and with a number of temporary accommodation units and tented camps where survivors of last September’s earthquakes were housed. Then the road deteriorated as we passed sections seemingly destroyed more by landslide than earthquake. Plenty of the roadside villages still bore the scars of the ‘quake with debris, collapsed buildings, tents and emergency services. The road was slow and hot and once past that we encountered queues of traffic at police check points. Fortunately these were on the out-of-Marrakesh side of the road but we were still delayed by the resulting congestion. (the in-car camera also malfunctioned – so no photos). Allison then saw a carpet vendor and, deciding that a local purchase was preferable to haggling in Marrakesh decided to buy 2 carpets as a packing challenge. Foolishly we decide to eat in the hotel rather than take a taxi to the centre of town – the hotel is in the middle of no-where. That was expensive with beer at £12 per bottle, service slow and meal expensive – we’ll take a taxi tomorrow come what may! The car seems ok, some play in a wheel bearing and the sump-guard doing its job; very fuel-sensitive to road conditions with great mpg on long runs but much less on the many ascents our organiser so likes. But oil and water doing well and engine temperatures well in control despite the hard work. Thanks Scholar Engines!
Friday a rest day and very hot. Decided against Marrakesh in the morning and will try to do an afternoon and evening visit.

Visited Cactus Thieman in the morning – founded by a German water engineer and now hosting many varieties of cactus – different coloured flowers but mostly prickly! Also a much easier route to the hotel than yesterday’s which wrongly tried to send us via the Royal Palace before men with guns persuaded us to try a different approach. A lazy midday in the cool of our hotel before venturing out to Marrakesh in the afternoon for some sightseeing and evening meal at a Riad, hidden away off a small street in a unvisited part of town – and where beer was halfthe price of our posh hotel!

Saturday 13th The first day when fuel availability became a possible issue as we left Marrakesh for Skoura on little used roads. Lunch was in an unlikely little cafe virtually un-signposted and traditional Moroccan with multiple salads and tajine. Sadly the local children decided that the parked cars were toys and climbed all over them as well as pulling off some of our flags. It had been suggested that we visit a small Berber village en route to the hotel but after a couple of kms we decided to turn round. One Mercedes did make the trip but on the way back down his clutch slave cylinder failed – not a real problem there as first gear was quite adequate for the track. Once on the main road he was towed in by the sweep. He didn’t carry a spare (we have two as we know their propensity to fail!). At the hotel, a phone call and 10 minutes later someone arrived with two versions! That wouldn’t happen to a Lotus.
Sunday 14th we started off using the dreaded Ipad to follow a route through the Palmiers but that didn’t work out too well as we ended up following a motor bike and missed the Kasbah we were aiming for. We found working ATM’s in Quazerzate and from then to the Tizgui waterfalls where the only source of water seemed to be a hosepipe. After a coffee we met a father & daughter in the car part who were admiring the flags on the bonnet and specifically Kyrgyzstan as she had spent 6 months in Karakol teaching English. Our route was along the east side of the Draa valley along the old road (the only string of tarmac). What should have been lush green palm trees looked brown and dried up. A sighting of an old Kasbah at the roadside turned into a longer visit than we had expected. We left the road on a track up to a group of houses and parked. Women were peering at us from one window whilst a group of men at a door invited us inside. We declined food but accepted tea and were ushered to the visitors reception room, an area separated from a large room, carpeted, with a couple of low tables and cushions along the wall. The room had been finished though to Western eyes, the bare concrete walls and floors of the remainder might suggest otherwise. Our conversation, in French, was limited as only one of our hosts spoke French – it turned out that he too was a visitor and had to catch the overnight bus back home to Rabat. We were given a tour of the downstairs, including the family sitting room – similar to the visitors reception room but smaller and that was where the women of the house were gathered. We visited the Kasbah – 200 years old and occupied by the French army until 1938, now a cow shed but about to be restored – possibly by the local council, although that part of the translation was a bit unclear!
Monday 15th – a rest day – but a small party set out south to M’Hamd to see how far we could get across the dunes – not very! Only two of our cars, a Mercedes and the organiser’s hire car got as far as the “Big Dune” but had to be towed out a couple of times before even getting that far. Back at the hotel we raised the rear ride height and tightened a front wheel bearing as tomorrow is a long day with a lot of broken tarmac. I had tested the air jack before leaving but the weight of the Mercedes was obviously too much for it and it exploded – right next to me as I was holding the pipe onto the exhaust and I was covered in sand and dust. My eyes recovered in a while thanks to Keiron’s quick thinking and provision of water and eye bath. The camera in my pocket was not so lucky and is now jammed – hence a shortage of photos.

Back on the road and now headed north towards the ferry – by the scenic route. An 8 hour day and an unexpectedly bad/steep track did give some trouble. The steep part was after a hairpin so no chance of a run at it and the car laboured up, hampered by the rich fuel mix and the 3,000 metre altitude. The organisers car also struggled and needed a couple of attempts to get up; as we were right behind him and the air horn was clogged with dust I was worried that he might bump into us; but he assured me that driving into client’s cars was not part of his business proposition. Lunch was up and down a long dirt track and across a stream, the latter following two pack donkeys carrying the load for a trekking party
Saturday 20th and a short distance from Chefchauen to Tangier. Overnight had been in the same Auberge we had used in 2018 and Allison again had a log fire in our room. The weather changed and today started dull and got worse. Our route at up to around 1300 metres was in pea soup and we travelled very slowly on narrow roads of poor quality with no visibility. The situation was not helped by an erratic fuel gauge which varied between empty and 3/4. Somewhere over half should have been correct as we had last fuelled 120 miles away yesterday and had emptied our 10 litre can into the tank expecting to get to Sunday’s Transporter collection point with about 1/4 tank – hopefully that maths still holds good! In Tangiers it was on/off rain – more on than off as we took the Corniche walking route from our hotel to the Kasbah. Coming back it was unrelenting so we found a taxi and returned like drowned rats. After adjusting the handbrake so it works on tomorrow’s ferry to Spain it was off for the farewell dinner (taxis both ways!).

8 April to Seville and the end. We left the hotel after a late breakfast for a wander round the town of Ronda

(last visited in 2009) before a long Final Rally lunch at a small but noisy cafe just outside the town. I found that I had lost my driving licence to the last Moroccan policeman to stop me leaving Ifrane so Allison drove and I was one of the few who could drink! A gentle run into Seville completed the rally and we expect the car to be home in about a week for work on the sump guard, new front springs/shocks and a full regrease/replace wheel bearings as the next rally has multiple river crossings.

7 April back to Europe. We caught the 10.00 ferry back to Tarifa and our farewell to Morocco was doused in rain.

The rally had arranged a competition to find the Golden Tajine, a Tajine being traditional Moroccan cooking-ware effectively producing individual stews. One crew had identified the location in Spain) about a week into the rally using the clues provided on the route. The rest of us were largely clueless but we combined with another crew on the ferry to pool our limited knowledge and with a lot of help from the organiser we identified the location just as the ferry docked. As luck would have it we were first off the boat and set off to the secret location. Very soon we were overtaken by a Mercedes on a Mission – having made the early identification, they didn’t want ANO stealing the prize! We reached the hiding place to find them there and plucked the wrapping paper from the hole.
Our hotel was mega expensive but did have a well lit underground garage(once the lights were turned on). The brakes were squealing so the mechanics and I checked all pads – and found that one front spring was broken. Not altogether surprising given the terrain but may well have happened on a very bumpy tarmac road this afternoon.

6 April to Tangier, tomorrow we take the ferry back to Spain. This morning we left our ultra plush hotel for the Roman City of Volubilis

, a remarkably well preserved Roman City and one of the wealthiest outside Italy. From there we returned to Moulay Idriss for lunch at Scorpion House, perched high over the hillside town. Then to Tangiers, with a detour to avoid a broken bridge which the rally organiser assured us everyone could do.

5 April rest day in a most in-Moroccan setting

4 April we chose the main road option to Ifrane, a French constructed town of the 1920s,buolt for the French administrators to escape the heat of the summer into an alpine scenery. Now a ski resort – with all of one lift!

3 April – the curse of Midelt. Today we journeyed to Midelt, scene of major mechanical failures in our previous two visits would the third be more successful? Answer – no!

Lunch was at a café just past the Todhra Gorge where Allison succumbed to a carpet buying urge. It was after that that things went belly-up! The water splashed the electrics so after chatting to other rally drivers we restarted on one cylinder. Whilst drying out we noticed fuel leaking from the Carb fuel joints so we solved that and carried on. Then the throttle return spring jumped out and the engine revved at 2500 which is very bad news in town. We were surrounded by most annoying kids whilst we found and relocated the spring. And lastly that gentle grumbling from the rear turned to a full bodied set of squeals – a rear wheel bearing had failed! We carry a hub extractor and spare bearings so the evening was spent with rally mechanics replacing said bearing and after a 12.00 bedtime we were good to go for tomorrow. We have no plans to revisit Midelt!

2 April in contrast to yesterday we started today in the rain and it was still raining as we did today’s first river crossing

but it dried out as we continued east to Skoura and our hotel whose access road tried to copy that of the last hotel with added dried river bed

1 April was a rest day so we wandered first back the way we had driven in, looking at the local salt production. As we were on a hillside I did not see how mountain streams would produce salt.

They pump water from wells into settling pans and collect the salt as it evaporates. The area is also rich in amethyst, which looks like a dirty overgrown egg but when broken on its fault line displays a bright pink, purple or white interior. It must be this rock formation which also generates the salt. After lunch we wandered the other way to a rickety pedestrian bridge over the river.

31 March to Ourika Valley. The first section was over the famous Tizi n Test pass, which we had travelled in the opposite direction in 2005. In parts the road has been rebuilt but some is still the old road.

We zigzagged our way up, passing and being passed by other rally cars as we stopped for photo opportunities. At one coffee halt, one driver was hit by a car as he walked around some parked cars. Although knocked over, it seems he fortunately escaped with bruising and shock. The last 3 kms to the mist expensive hotel in the area was along a narrow, rutted village dirt road and we grounded on several dips and lumps; the rally organiser driving directly behind us reckoned he heard each one!

30 March to Taroudant. Taradount is about 100 miles inland from Agadir so the day had a coastal drive

south to an excessive lunch stop before heading inland (slowly) to the old walled town and our overnight stop. Taroudant has a great set of walls and a Kasbah (fort) where we hoped to find supper at the Kasbah Palace Hotel. Disappointment reigned as the hotel was more dead than alive but had all the signs of faded grandeur. The town square was hosting a festival – but only men attended – women’s place is elsewhere in this culture.

29 March rest day at Essaouira.

28 March to Essaouira. One section was described as very rough and best for us to avoid, so we took a shorter more gentle route before re-joining the main track in time for a river fording. We failed to get a photos of ourselves so this is one of the Mercedes.

Then an easy run to a Sofitel just outside the town and now looking forward to a wine tasting visit

27 March rest day in Marrakech. Our hotel was well out of town and little known by local taxi drivers as we found out when trying to get back. We spent the day as tourists and rather naïve ones at that!

Our first stop was some gardens some way off the beaten track; we walked there but our return taxi tried the old trick of asking us to pay “what we felt was right” – should have asked first! He expressed great disgust at our miserly payment but it was probably too much anyway! Next up was the shoe cleaning scam. The shoe cleaner quoted “5” so, thinking it was 5 dirham I agreed, then he offered Allison’s shoes for free – then it transpired it was 5 Euros, not Dirham, a tenfold difference and he wanted payment for Allison’s “free” clean. We escaped that and got the “guide scam”. A man with child in pushchair offered to show us the way to a museum – and got lost despite asking every shopkeeper he passed! We got to the museum after a few backtracks – closed Tuesday – and today was Tuesday! Our guide then demanded payment – to feed child in pushchair of course, must have the emotional appeal. Again disgust at our miserly offering!

26 March to Marrakech.

Our first destination was the Ouzoud Waterfall. We spent longer here than we should and were the last to leave – and promptly set off in the wrong direction. Navigation was primarily by waypoints pre-loaded onto an Ipad but Allison tried to ignore that and preferred the tried and tested tulips and road book. We also had the same waypoints loaded onto the TomTom but every now and then it disliked an offroad section and said no route was possible. The sweeps could see us on the tracker so waited till we caught up and could not work out how we had got behind them despite setting off in front.

25 March to El Oudine. We were the first away from the hotel but progress was soon halted by a police radar trap and I had to pay about £12.50 as a roadside fine. We climbed up into the clouds, fog and rain. That cleared as we reached the Middle Atlas and the afternoon was warm and sunny.

Our track left the main road and we climbed over mountain ranges; roadside lunch was at 1540m then we dropped down to a narrow road with broken tarmac but all easily navigable, ending at an isolated hotel near the El Ouidane reservoir. One of the Mercedes had a very close encounter with a local truck, damaging the offside door and rear wing and removing part of the rear bumper; no-one was hurt. The Lotus continues to run well.

24 March to Fes – another day offering an easy alternative but our concern was more the state of the mud roads after all the rain. The organisers offered a second alternative, try the rough section and take a shortcut if the mud looks too bad. We set off with that in mind. Shortly after leaving we came across a stranded Volvo with a broken suspension mount – welding required! On the dirt road the car soon got covered in mud and I got more than I thought my fair share through the window. One section was deep mud where a lorry had gouged deep ruts. The Mustang again got stuck further ahead along with one of the Mercedes – our choice of the short cut was well founded!

We reached the hotel in time to be tourists in Fes.

23 March – a short day as we took an alternative section to avoid the worst rough parts. Any time saved we lost in trying to visit Tetouan. Tetouan is on a hill and Allison was struggling with the clutch, she could not reach the handbrake and the car was stalling! Altogether not a happy experience. Odd that the tickover, which had been happy on European fuel, now faded away with Moroccan. Fortunately solving the tickover and handbrake were easily resolved in the hotel car park.

The hotel, an auberge outside town, was very romantic in the midday sunshine but we were glad later that we had chosen a room with a log fire. The afternoon was overcast with a cold wind and it rained all evening and all night – it was cold! We spent the afternoon in the all-blue town of Chefchaouen, now a tourist destination but the traders did little business with the tourists more concerned with keeping warm than buying souvenirs.

A rally into Morocco, starting and ending in Seville. The Elan was transported to the start – so Allison could spend more time with the dogs. Prior to the rally, I had changed all the clutch hydraulic parts as I got bored with changing the slave cylinder in hotel car parks! Also changed was the brake master cylinder and our well used Brazilian tyres. After the steering’s jumpiness in USA I spoke with Spyder and fitted their adjustable upper front wishbones so the front wheels are now as close to vertical as possible.

We arrived in Seville a day early for some sightseeing in Seville – it looks a fascinating City. The first rally day started badly as we left our overnight bag in the car park at the Alphonso XIII hotel. The upside was that we were no longer the first car away when the rally encountered seriously sticky mud on a “gravel” section. That honour fell to the Mustang, which had to be hauled out by a tractor. That evening we crossed to Tangiers and the start of the Morocco section
The idea of our rallies is that we don’t normally revisit a country. But Morocco has a history of two visits and two broken drive shafts. This is meant to be third time lucky……

The Casablanca Challenge lived up to its name but none of our challenges were as a result of the rally!
We started with a newly rebuilt engine which had done about a thousand miles before the first “selectif” over Forestry Commission tracks in Kent. The cars were grouped into four categories – vintageant, classics, modern sub-1400 cc and nine who started in Spain.
Crossing the channel we did the third selectif on the Franco-Belgian border on closed public roads. Our time was good and we overtook an MGB on the way – but as everyone completed the route in less than the minimum time we scored that minimum – along with everyone else.
There followed a long run to the overnight stop in le Mans and two long driving days first to Burgos in Northern Spain and then to Ronda in the south.  It was here that the problem which was to be a recurring feature of the rally manifested itself – points.  This set had managed about 2,250 miles – not very good but as I had two spare sets I was not too bothered.
Crossing to Tangiers, the rally schedule was disrupted – though it is not clear why.  After a ferry crossing which was only delayed by half an hour, the rally arrived at the 12.30 control point some three hours late!  This meant that the first Moroccan test section would be run after dark and driving in Morocco after dark is not for the faint hearted as the roads contain all manner of unlit human, animal and mechanized travelers as well as potholes, ruts and bumps.
On the way to the test our brakes failed – well not quite failed – the servo locked on so we stopped and the rally passed us by as we dismantled the servo and applied WD40 to release the brakes.  We decided against doing the hill climb with no servo after dark and detoured direct to the hotel – more penalties.
Next day we set off for the test sections in “rally order” – those with least penalties going first.  Yesterdays problems meant that we were low down the order and in the company of cars slower than us.  We would have to overtake them on narrow test sections, relying on their goodwill to pull over and let us past.  We were not alone with this problem as two other cars had accumulated abnormal penalties during the hill climb – the Sunbeam Tiger who went into a ditch and a Citroen whose electrics had failed.
Our times on the five tests were good and we climbed 14 places in the rally order.
Day 6 of the rally would end in Midelt in the Atlas Mountains.  This was the location of our “mishap” when the drive shaft broke on the 2005 Dakar rally.  Would Midelt prove to be a disaster for us again?
We had sprayed more WD40 at the brake servo and that was working again – on these test sections you needed confidence in your brakes.  The tests were on open roads of tarmac or gravel in the hills with sharp, unsighted bends, sometimes amongst the trees and you never knew what to expect next.  Leading the way were the “hot hatches” spreading gravel over the bends making the roads more slippery for the cars behind.
Our test results for this run were good and we would climb to fifth in class – but much, much worse was yet to come.
At the end of the last test we saw a marshal’s car and a rally car facing the wrong way on the road. We assumed the rally car had spun and the marshals were sorting it out.  Later we found out that a competitor had gone off the road and crashed 60 metres down the hillside killing the driver.  All motorsport is dangerous but to experience it at first hand when it happens to someone you know is distressing.
We knew nothing of this as we approached Midelt.  The town was a sea of dust as the whole place was being dug up and roads relaid in expectation of a visit by the King in 7 weeks time.  Driving up the high Street we saw and were spotted by the garage who repaired us nearly five years ago.  Having greeted them all and said our fond farewells we set off to our hotel and the closing time control of the day.  Err……….except it wasn’t quite like that!  The car wouldn’t start, it had been getting more difficult all day, so as it was pointing uphill, we rolled backwards, bump started the engine – and with a loud bang, broke the differential output shaft!!

Could this really be possible?  Could we have sheared another shaft five years on in the same place?  Sadly, yes, so the car spent the night and the next morning in the garage whilst the shaft was welded up by the same excellent machinist……………  Then we learnt of Warren’s death – not a good day.
Day 7 saw us leave the garage well after the rally so we decided to spend the night in the Gorges of Todra where they had their midday stop.  At night the Gorges were out in the sticks.  The hotel had an outside toilet block and we were asked to go to bed so they could silence the generator which powered the lights and kept the place awake.  The consolation was that when you needed that toilet block you looked up the channel formed by the rocks and had a spectacular view of bright shining stars with no possibility of light pollution.

Next day we wanted to see the top of the Gorge, drive over the mountains and down the Dades Gorge – which the guide book said was a good route – and the hotelier said you’d never do it in a car like this.  But we knew better……….we’d missed the piece in the guide book where it said you needed a 4WD hovercraft!
The road started on good tarmac with the odd washed away section then climbed via a smooth wide gravel track to the top of the ridge.  Then it became a rocky track and we were stopped by a crew digging it up to lay storm drains.  The car wouldn’t start so they bump started us and the track continued past Berber families living under the overhang of massive rocks.  The track got worse, we had to slip the clutch in parts, then the clutch pedal went to the floor boards, the engine stalled and we were 16 kms from the nearest town in a dried up river bed.  Silence reigned, no-one was around and things did not look promising.
The track ahead did not improve so we decided to retrace our steps.  We selected a spot for a seven point turn, took out and cleaned the plugs, turned the key – we had both ignition and clutch!
We climbed out of the river bed, past the begging children, past the road crew and returned to the tarmac road to retrace our steps to the main road.  Now the engine was spluttering – points again.  Stopping at a Shell station, we bought some fuel and more or less got their agreement to use their car wash as shelter from the burning sun.  Points changed and timing checked surely the engine would spring into life?  No, it needed yet another bump start before, much later than intended, we could head west into the dazzling, low sun towards Marakesh and the rally hotel.  Allison’s dreams of seeing two gorges and lunch beside a tinkling stream remained just that.
It was dusk as we skirted Ouazzarate and headed north with a mountain range ahead of us – not the Tizi-n-Test which the rally would use but the higher and busier Tizi-n-Tikkla.  On one hairpin bend which I took a little wide, the passenger’s door flew open into a lorry.  Fortunately only ripping out the door handle with minor damage to the fibreglass; we did not stop.
It was 10.15 before we reached our hotel but in the process we discovered that there were 3 Mirage Hotels in Marakesh – and ours inevitably was the third we were directed to!  We did our bit for the locals by stalling when asking some traffic police for directions – so they kindly put down their hair dryers to bump start us – again (we’re good at bump starts!).
Sunday was the last day of the rally but we were going nowhere – we had to plan our return home and a non-starting car was no help.  We checked the battery and decided it was worn out – but the problem was deeper rooted than that and I added a starter motor to my shopping list.
An inspection revealed a new problem – the diff oil seal had been damaged and we were leaving a trail of oil behind.  We would have to stop every 250 miles to top it up – and home was over 1,500 miles away.
Having sorted battery and diff oil, there was still time for some sightseeing before the rally dinner and on Monday we set off for Tangiers and the ferry to Europe.
Morocco is a Muslim country but not too strict.  Staying in a seaside resort outside Tangiers we asked about wine with the meal.  As the restaurant was next door to an Off Licence with a brightly lit Heineken sign we did not expect a problem.  We were told we could not drink outside on the pavement but inside was ok.  Shortly our “special mint tea” arrived with teapot and tea glasses – but this mint tea was red!  A strategically placed plant and nearly empty coke bottle completed the theatre!
We spent the next night in Gibraltar before the journey north to the Bilbao ferry.  Our first night was in the little town of Zafra, north of Seville.  We chose the Parador Hotel – one of a state run chain using buildings of interest.  This was an inspired choice – we negotiated a price of 70 euros for a room in a castle dating from 1440 with huge towers and a spectacular open courtyard – magnificent and well worth another visit just for the building and atmosphere – a perfect end to a day of driving.
We left early for the 750 km drive to the ferry port.  The car was good and we were bowling along near Salamanca when the engine died – no warning, just stopped.  The tacho went from 4,000 rpm to zero as we coasted off a convenient slip road, donned our yellow jackets and decided – points.  And so it was, the plastic cam had broken off.  We put back a set we’d repaired earlier but it would not start.  The police stopped at their third drive-by.  I showed them we had a spark but not enough battery to start the engine.  They returned with what sounded like “pincers” (jump leads) and the thing finally came alive.
We set off but with an unhappy car; the rev counter and fuel gauge were erratic and that night we had to change the points yet again (and yes we were stopping to do the diff oil every 250 miles).
Next morning the port – oh bliss of security and home via Portsmouth – no-one told us the Bay of Biscay was rough in November…………!

The car that went to Dakar
2005 World Cup London to Dakar Rally

The Paris Dakar rally conjures up images of desert challenge and the ultimate rally experience.  So when the World Cup organisers announced the London to Dakar rally our names were soon on the list.

On our previous World Cup rally (Albania and Athens in 2002) they didn’t really want a Lotus Elan; this time they really didn’t want us!  But we spoke to the Sweep crew and with their support we were in – “Mission Impossible” the web site declared.

There were three categories of car in the rally – modern up to 1400cc, 4WD and Classics – a total of 46 vehicles.  The rally had three main phases – a long drive through France and Spain, seven days in Morocco to establish a leader-board (and weaken the cars for the desert challenge ahead!) and seven days of driving south with long tarmac stretches, the Desert and the Beach, both in Mauritania.

Preparations were going well when our pre-start gremlin struck.  In previous rallies it was falling oil pressure and a leaking water pump. This time it was an articulated lorry, which left us with a bent chassis and no driver’s side bodywork.  The rally started in 5 weeks!

We had three options:

1. Rebuild the car on a new chassis
2. Buy another car and partially rebuild with our engine, drive train etc
3. There was no other choice

A week after the crash we were the owners of a second 1967 Elan, red with an SE engine but it had been stored outside and little used in recent years. Fortunately my work was closed over the Christmas and New Year break so; with the help of my neighbour we stripped every moving part off the red Elan and installed those from the crashed car.  Engine, gearbox, differential, fuel tank, radiator, all hoses, suspension, brakes, trip meter, GPS, roll cage, sump guard – the list seemed endless.

We also had time to change the head gasket to plug the last of our oil leaks.  The effect was amazing – over 5,500 miles of high revving and engine-stressed driving we used just 8 litres of oil.

The car was back on the road five days before the start – time to decide that the old windscreen was too pitted to be used but not enough time to test our work – it had to be right first time!  Compared to some cars, five days was a luxury.  One car arrived at scrutineering with a blown engine on the Saturday but managed to return home, rebuild and get to Algeciras in Southern Spain by Tuesday afternoon.

The drive through France saw us receive a terrific welcome from an MR2 owners outing – they waved, flashed lights and hooted as we roared past – whether it was the sight of the rally plates or the knowledge that the Elan was their inspiration and ancestor I do not know.

In Spain we were the first car to break down when the engine, having misfired at low revs through France, spluttered to a halt.  This was just after we had taken a wrong turn off the rally route.  Fortunately most of the rally took the same wrong route (my navigator had fallen asleep, another was doing a crossword….!) and the sweeps diagnosed a faulty rotor arm.  The problem recurred through Spain, chewing up another rotor arm until a repair in Tangiers cured the problem with the Distributor weights, replacing coil, condenser and points for good measure.

The first two days in Morocco were uneventful for us (though not for the Range Rover which rolled even before the first Test).  We bypassed one Test which was seriously rough and pulled the exhaust off twice (exhausts are ancillary!).  Day 3 was more serious as, on a straight road on a plateau in the Atlas mountains there was a noise from the rear and the drivers wheel overtook us and went bouncing away across the scrub.  We slid inelegantly to a halt in a shallow ditch and went to find the wheel. Helped by the ambulance crew we found it 400 yards away just below the crest of a ridge.

The outboard drive shaft had sheared and a short stub was left protruding from the bearing housing.  A passing competitor brewed up a cup of tea as the sweeps went back to the nearest town to arrange a breakdown truck.  This was not what we wanted at 9.30 in the morning when we had been in 29th place.  It could have happened at a much less convenient time – like on the mountain passes we had tackled the day before.

We spent the day at Midelt – a town whose attractions do not merit a mention in our 250 page guide book!  The wind howled up the main road as we flitted between the workshop on one side and the café on the other.  By 10.30 that night we were back on the road but frozen and exhausted (not sure how they managed to put back the rear screen beading using only screwdrivers with temperatures below freezing).  The local lathe operator had shaped a new outer half for the shaft, cut the old shaft between the two bearings and welded the two together.  The keyway was cut with the precision engineering technique of putting shaft in vice and applying angle grinder!  It worked and the shaft has already done 2,500 miles of tarmac, desert, beach and washboard.

We still had to negotiate the price of the breakdown truck.  Quite why it had to wait till now I cannot explain.  The opening suggestion was 1200 Dirhams (£75) which I countered with 200; we agreed on 400 (well it was only 10 miles outside town)!  We retreated to the hotel which last night had hosted over 50 cars and 100 competitors and marshals with the hubbub and chatter of motoring stories.  Now there was just a solitary Lotus Elan; we had a cuppasoup before collapsing in bed. The outside temperature that night was minus seven.

The rally had moved on so we lost a second day in catching up.  Unsure of the repair we stopped at increasing intervals to check the wheel. It seemed ok but we had phoned our daughter and Sue Miller to arrange for a spares pack of drive shafts, bearings, a hub and a front stub axle (in case it got ideas) to be taken to the wife of another competitor who was flying out to Marrakech.  We had previously phoned Sue for a spare distributor – history does not record what she expected the next request might be!

Next day we were confident and wholeheartedly tackled the short desert Test.  The landrovers covered us in dust as we again picked up our exhaust pipe.  We passed a sick BMW who had lost his front suspension.  The sight of us finishing the day with the exhaust sticking out of the window brought varied comments on the style of our ” modifications”.  That evening we bought some welded chain and, try as she might, wife/driver could not again separate the exhaust from the car.

We had our first rest day in Marrakech, working on the car in the morning and becoming tourists in the afternoon.  The Elan was running well with slight body damage from that wheel.  Others were not so lucky – three 4WD’s had rolled so badly they would be MOT write-offs in UK, a Peugeot had acquired a new gearbox and most were seeking new tyres and shock absorbers.

Next day started with a tarmac Test on which we could have done better but found it difficult to cope with the stones thrown into the road by the 4WD’s.  The second Test saw the only casualty of the rally when the Astra missed a turn and hit a tree.  The navigator was taken away by ambulance with a broken vertebra.

That evening the Elan showed some signs of the treatment it had received – neither door would close properly or lock, the headlight electrics had gone, there was a loss of brake fluid and the wishbone bushes on the repaired wheel had moving causing the brake disc to rub the wishbone.  Everyday problems on a rally.

Next day’s departure out of Agadir was delayed by fog.  This slowly cleared as we tackled the long day of the African section – 400 miles and one Test.  Most of the road sections were of good quality and we could cruise at 80mph.  However the organisers limited the amount of such easy driving preferring to give us bumpy, dusty tracks.

Two days later we crossed to Mauritania.  The Moroccan side of the border had tarmac but the 10 miles of No Mans Land was part old tarmac, part rock and part soft sand.  We got stuck twice in the deep sand and were pulled out by the 4WD’s. As the alternative was the area warned as having landmines we had little choice!  After the border we joined a tarmac road.  This unfortunately ran at right angles to what the GPS wanted but we preferred tarmac to sand so drove on and hoped.

Up to now the 4WD’s had being doing reasonably but now it was their chance to shine – the next two days were the desert crossing. This caused us some concern – how would a little Elan cope in the sand?  We had three options – to go alone and hope someone would come along to pull us out, to join the “convoy” or to arrange for some 4WD’s to escort us.  We asked two series III landrovers to be our “towtrucks” as they were close to us in the startlist.

This was a Test section and we set off at one-minute intervals.  As we twisted and weaved round the loose stones we saw one “towtruck” racing past on our right – one down and one to go!  There were 3 Passage Controls in this section and we made the first, slowly but with no difficulties and saw the BMW, resting perhaps but more likely overheating.  Shortly afterwards we lost all signs of track and crept slowly over a rocky surface of low scrub and sand.  Temperature rose, oil pressure fell and we stopped to cool down.  All around was still and empty.

After a while our second “towtruck” came into view along with the VW beetle and the camera crew.  What an opportunity!  An Elan stopped in the desert and the driver shading herself with a black umbrella – interview time!!  They noted our position and carried on.

We continued and our progress improved; we soon came to an area where 10 cars were milling around, getting stuck in the sand and generally unsure what to do.  I walked ahead to find a path through the soft sand – the first car through should be ok but subsequent cars would fall into the tracks and become stuck.  Allison followed and then powered past leaving me with a quarter mile walk – claimed it took her that long to find a hard surface to stop on.  Amused was I not!

Driver grew more confident, we were clocked by a competitor on a parallel track doing 70mph, we crashed through the scrub and twisted and weaved through the dips and soft sand.  Only 3 two wheel drive cars completed the day without getting stuck.  Everyone was amazed the Elan had coped so well as they fully expected us to breakdown or get stuck or both.  The trick was partly the power of the engine and partly the strategy of never following other cars tracks when it was soft.

We camped at Cap Tafarit where fortunately the organisers had provided tents, mattresses and a refuelling facility – there is only so much you can get into an Elan when you are already carrying two spare wheels, oil, various spares, tools and 10 litres of fuel – who needs clean clothes?

Repairs were required for many cars. The BMW arrived five hours later at 9.30 after being rescued by a search party (overheating and broken starter motor), the Citroen AX had fuel supply problems, and one of our “towtrucks” had to rebuild a broken front suspension after hitting a gully at 60mph and most had punctures.

Next day we did breakdown.  The clutch pipe got too friendly with the exhaust and melted.  Pressing the pedal produced only clouds of smoke.  Luckily this was just below a ridge where the organisers had placed a sweep car to drag cars out of the sand.  People were not getting stuck so, as we had the spares, they helped us on our way.

That afternoon provided the most spectacular part of the rally – 30 miles along the beach on a narrow track with soft dunes to the left and the sea to the right.  A couple of misjudgements with the waves had the engine spluttering but the heat quickly dried the HT leads and normal service was resumed.  One landrover misjudged his speed over the ridges, which crossed our path, did a corkscrew roll and continued (leaving behind his windscreen, lights and the contents of his dashboard – mobile phone, keys to locking wheel nuts etc). He then had a puncture!

After the beach we had 50 miles of washboard before arriving in the capital Nouakchott and a much-needed shower.  We had added a large hole under the passenger’s seat to our repeating niggles but the Elan was going well and in much better shape than many metal cars.

Two days to go.  The first had the final border crossing into Senegal and 70 miles of dirt tracks.  We and everything we possessed we covered in a fine red dust and it will be years if ever before we remove it from the car.  One rear shock absorber gave up so we bounced the last day to Dakar’s Lac Rose and the finish line.

That little car had done 5,500 miles of some of the toughest driving in the world and earned the admiration of competitors and marshals alike.  We were given the “True Grit” award, shared with the 2CV and the Morris Minor as the car least likely to succeed (but we were the one the organisers really did not want).

The only question is what next?  What can compete with the Dakar rally for challenge and endurance?