6. 12. Starting early morning with coffee still cooking on the gas cooker. We have only 3 cups for 4 people, 2 teaspoons, 1 knife, no pot, only paper plates. There is 1 stool which usually serves as ladies´ pedestal for entering the truck, or as table for our home-cooked meals.
Maximum speed of the truck is 80 km/h, but sometimes road condition allows not more than 20 km/h.
The back of the truck was converted into a living space, mostly by our Schaumbad-collegues Max and Martin Gansberger, and they did a real good job. It works very well for living in sleeping, although work is not real possible - our Steyr is shaking real hard on the harsh roads.
Offroad-excursions are fun on the front part of the car, driving through the deserts. This is Manuel´s ambition in between the long periods of monotony. At noon we had a short ride through the pathless West Sahara table mountains, we out in the mountains filming and taking photos, or shooting out of the combat hatch on the roof. Then back to hours of monotony.
Around 6 p.m. arriving in a small military town and wanted to buy vegetables and fruit for dinner and breakfast. It will come soon, said the shopkeeper. Waiting, we found a billiard table, Manuel and Stefan played a match. Local men stood on the street, watching them trough the window. The room was too small for a proper billiard cue, there was a shorter one for the narrow parts.
My camera batteries were empty as usual, because the charging system in the car regularly breaks down when we all charge our devices. Igor was running around taking photos, a man followed him to tell, that this is prohibited. Igor disappeared somewhere. Looking for him, I found a nice dividende for our lucky shareholders: some Hilfiger/Fishbone cloth, none of us can identify the use of it. I took it, even though unable to take a photo, when Igor approached me, telling that he just came back to collect this cloth. The photo was taken already.
The perfect Morrocan garbage system breaks down at West Sahara: every house, every village is surrounded with trash, mostly plastic bottles and rusted cans. Some of the cans still make nice dividends for our lucky shareholders.
Sunset is around 7 p.m., so we hurried to find a secure, hidden place to spend the night. West Sahara is not safe, the closer to the Mauretanian border, the worse. So offroad between some dunes on the sea.
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