This is an occasional log of our overland adventures with an ageing Nissan Terrano and a much younger Yamaha Tenere. Besides me, there are two other co-conspirators; my better half, Louise, and a very old friend, Simon. He will join the story later, riding his Tenere. He thinks we are his support vehicle and we think he is our means of summoning help when the Terrano breaks down. Only time will show who is right…
The initial idea was hatched sometime after Louise and I made our first trip to Morocco with a travel company called ‘Explore’ who provided a whistle-stop tour of the south of the country in Land Rover 110s. The roads were inviting and the pistes and wadis even more so. It was also very attractive biking country and when I told Simon about our plans, he seemed keen to tag along. Louise and I went back to Morocco four years later on a different itinerary and this strengthened our resolve to make the overland expedition a reality.
The execution was more problematic – to avoid complete meltdown in the summer heat, we really needed to travel in late spring or early autumn. Unfortunately, these times of year are not consistent with the constraints of the educational calendar and to turn the plan into reality, we had to hand in our notice and take the plunge. Quite a daunting prospect when everyone else is desperately trying to hang on to their jobs. Simon works offshore on a surveying vessel and gets five weeks on, five weeks off, so the idea was to synchronise the trip with his onshore leave dates.
To prove his intent and commitment to the plan, he bought his Tenere in April, especially for the trip, choosing to leave his hefty BMW 1150GS in the garage.
I bought the Terrano in May, took it out on the trail in Wiltshire and managed to get two punctures, at which point I discovered there was no jack. Or wheelbrace. Lesson one in offroading is about planning and preparation. In fact, virtually all the lessons seem to have involved a learning curve related to preparation, but more of that later.
I shan’t embarrass myself any further with the details of the damage, suffice to say the AA were involved and I needed to replace one completely shredded tyre. Since I intended to put brand-new tyres on all four corners, this wasn’t such a shock to the system but it certainly woke me up to the consequences of going poorly equipped.

Terrano looking towards Devizes

Two down and no jack - Simon admires the damage
So the Terrano went into my local garage for a full service and check over and finally emerged with some welding and a multitude of replaced bits and pieces that the previous owners had routinely abused or ignored. It also got a new MOT. The old one wasn’t due until 3rd October, but since I had worked up a sizeable bill, the gaffer at the garage felt sorry for me and did it for nothing. That doesn’t happen very often.
That left me with a few small jobs to do to the bodywork and start to stow the important kit, like the new bottle jack and a 22mm socket on a long bar, as well as all the other spares and consumables we might need. I didn’t bother trying to get the pair of breathalysers that the French have suddenly insisted is mandatory and it seems they have issued a grace period as these kits appear to be in short supply.
We had one final session of administration to book hotels and the ferry to Ceuta and finalise the planning on the route before Simon disappeared offshore again. He will get a ferry to Santander and ride down to Algeciras where we will meet up. In the meantime, Louise and I will have driven down to our little house in the Pyrenees to do some decorating and catch up with friends. From there, we will then drive through Spain to our rendezvous in Algeciras.
From Ceuta, our trip will take us in a big clockwise sweep through Morocco, starting from the border crossing at Bab Sebta and taking in Chefchaouen, Volubilis and Fes, then on down toward the desert and Erg Chebbi. From there we’ll go on to Zagora and Tamegroute using desert piste, spend some time desert camping and then on up the Draa valley, down to Taliouine and round to the Atlantic Coast at Essaouira. From there, we’ll head North towards Rabat, before cutting across to Tetouan and on back to Ceuta. It runs out at a shade under 1700 miles, to which we will add the French and Spanish miles. I reckon on a total of around 5000 miles. That is ‘The Plan’, which as most people know, never survives contact with the real world. We shall see…
Leg 1: London to the Pyrenees
Day 1 – Wednesday 8th August: It is early in the morning, dull and overcast and weather-wise, altogether the right send-off for this expedition. Last night we took two hours to load the Terrano up with a huge collection of miscellany, some destined for Morocco, but quite a bit of stuff which is essential clutter for our little house in France. At the time, I was questioning the wisdom of buying a short-wheelbase Terrano, but we did finally shoehorn all the stuff in and secure it reasonably well.
We manage to avoid any Olympics congestion on the way out of London, although there were some predicted. The email alerts Transport for London have sent out during the Olympics have made everyone scared to venture anywhere for fear of being caught in a massive traffic jam. We now realise it was all a bit of a hype. In any event, we hit the de-restricted section of the A3 and it starts to rain. Who cares? We have an appointment with MV Normandie and nothing is going to spoil the anticipation of rolling up that ramp.
Predictably, as we dock at Ouistreham, the sun is already shining and we get a reasonable wiggle on without breaking any records. The Terrano bimbles along quite happily at 60mph, and will reach 80mph eventually, but is obviously punching a big hole in the air and makes a bit of a racket at that speed. That alone is a good enough reason to avoid the Autoroute; the delightful French countryside is another. We reach the Premiere Classe hotel at Le Mans in good time and enjoy the evening sunshine sitting on a café terrace. Over a beer we reminisce fondly about the miserable English summer.

Terrano in Le Mans
Day 2 – Thursday 9th August: What with the early start yesterday and the extra hour, not to mention a bottle of red wine, today starts somewhat belatedly. The Premiere Classe ‘eat all you want’ breakfast demands an extra coffee and by the time we hit the road, it is a few minutes before eleven. Still, it is sunny and getting rather warm.
Today we need to push on as far south as we can go. We start badly by getting stuck behind a tractor travelling at 25 km/h down the Mulsanne Straight. The irony is not lost on me; on other days it might annoy me, but my sense of humour is intact and I ask Louise to take a photo.

The tractor leads at the end of Mulsanne straight
Gradually the kilometres pile up and the temperature increases. Today is really warm. Hot, even. We whizz through Tours, Chateauroux, Limoges and Brive La Gaillarde and decide to stop off at a camp site we have used once before, on the main road 20kms short of Cahors. Unfortunately, when we arrive, the site is full. This was not in the plan and we forge on, remembering to stop of at a Leclerc long enough to buy some more wine.
Soon afterwards, we see a sign for a campsite and we turn of the main road up a wiggly D-road. Roadside signs in France can be devious to a point just short of outright dishonesty and I absolutely hate the ones which tell you the distance to your intended destination in minutes. (Since when has distance been measured in units of time? It is absurd and makes me cross.) After a kilometre we see another sign for the campsite that tells us it is 15 minutes away and we agree this is probably too far off the beaten track. We turn around and return to the main road and trundle towards Caussade, when we see another sign for a campsite bereft of any kind of proximity indications. Happily, it is only a couple of kms, but the reception is closed for the evening. By now, I am quite grumpy and decide that if there is a free pitch, we will seize it, possession being nine-tenths of the law. We can sort it out in the morning.
The light is fading fast and I pitch the tent while Louise cooks up some grub. I decide to have a quick check under the bonnet and to my horror discover a liberal application of engine oil everywhere. This is quite worrying as the pre-existing oil leak was supposedly fixed. The dip-stick reveals there is plenty of oil in the engine. In fact, probably a bit too much. I conclude this newly-liberated lubricant may have been rejected by the engine, but wonder why not via the more usual route.
Day 3 – Friday 10th August: I fire up breakfast and then try to clean up the oily mess under the bonnet. Having slept on it, I will carry on and watch the oil warning lights carefully. With an excess of oil in the sump, it is hard to imagine the engine will seize. In spite of yesterday’s high temperature (it hit 39°C in the afternoon) the engine ran consistently cool and sounds as sweet as any diesel can sound. However, this is not a firm foundation for confidence as I am virtually ignorant of all things diesel. They might as well be alien spacecraft technology for all the experience I have.
I try to sound confident when I tell Louise about what I have deduced, but omit to tell her these deductions carry the caveat of complete ignorance of diesel engines. Instead, I offer her the opportunity to drive today. She hasn’t driven on the continent before and was waiting for some less busy roads before she committed herself to the experience.
We break camp and before departing I visit the reception to pay for our pitch. They seem cool about our late arrival and presumption in taking a pitch. It is only later when I check the bill that I realise we have paid for electricity we didn’t use. We could very easily have left without paying, but honesty is the best policy, and this exercise in rectitude has cost an extra 3½ euros. (Note to self, should have checked the bill.)
Louise drives with increasing confidence and I begin to enjoy being a passenger. The route will take us to Albi through the Aveyron valley and some truly stunning scenery which until today I have only been able to admire in snatches from behind the wheel. Unfortunately, the rigours of driving a 4WD through narrow village streets are intimidating for Louise, especially when confronted with oncoming traffic. I explain that smaller vehicles generally get out of the way of a 4WD but this does not seem to provide too much by way of reassurance. So we concentrate on driving the route and I pay less attention to the scenery. Except that I spot my first BX (it was a white Mk 2) of the trip just outside Albi.
As Albi could potentially present some tricky driving situations, we swap seats and as luck would have it, we shoot through the town and plot a course for Castres. The route from Mazamet through the Montagne Noire, Carcassonne, and on to the gorge near Axat is amongst the most delightful drives anywhere in France and I never tire of it. It is quite warm again (38°C), but I think we are acclimatising well. The sun-roof is the closest we have to air-con and although the tilt works, the motor bogs down when trying to haul the sun-roof back. Consequently, ventilation has to be supplemented by having the front windows down, making conversation and music a trifle difficult, so we just enjoy the view.
After Axat, we are on the home stretch; down the Fenouillèdes valley, right at Estagel and climbing across the watershed into the Têt valley and west into the shadow of Canigou. We arrive at Estoher, somewhat hot and weary, and put the kettle on.

Terrano on the D25
A little later I raise the bonnet and find more oil, but less than yesterday. The dipstick shows the level still a little above maximum and the engine has not shown any signs of distress. I feel a little more convinced in my diagnosis and briefly consider calling the garage to discuss. I check my watch and because of the hour’s difference, I can just catch them. It rings briefly and then goes to the answerphone, which I know won’t give me any answers, in spite of its name. I give up on that idea and open a nice bottle of Gaillac.
Day 7 – Tuesday 14th August: Today we drive into Prades for supplies. It is another hot morning and I press the button to tilt the sun-roof but push it the wrong way. The motor grinds and lo and behold, the sun-roof disappears into its recess. It has suddenly decided to start working. Hooray! This is greeted with cautious optimism as a worthwhile step forward in motoring enjoyment. Later on, I lubricate any rusty bits to ensure this upward trajectory in efficiency continues.
Day 13 – Monday 20th August: Time for some sight-seeing. We have spent quite a lot of the previous week bogged down in domestic chores and decorating. I have found a builder to assist with the more tricky jobs that need trade skills but I can plod on with the simpler stuff. Louise has been helping out with the painting, doing all the cooking and throwing her bow at her violin, which has attracted some appreciation from the locals.
We drive up the winding road that is the N116 to Mont Louis and explore the Cerdagne plateau. We check out the solar furnace at Odeillo. It is an impressive piece of technology, boast an array of mirrors which track the sun and reflect the rays back to a parabolic mirror, which in turn focuses them to a chamber which contains the solar furnace. It never really cracked the commercial application of solar energy, but remains a research centre and museum. From there we drive down to Llivia, a Spanish enclave in France. This strange anomaly is a hangover from the Treaty that moved the Franco-Spanish border south into the Pyrenees.
After lunch we head back up to Mont Louis and wander around Vauban’s fortress, still home to a French Army training base. I spot a BX Ourane and feel obliged to take a picture. On the way back down the Têt valley, the clouds gather and dump lots of rain on us in a short space of time. Apparently, it is the only the third time it has rained since the beginning of May. Typically, it is over in half-an-hour and the sun comes out again.

BX Ourane Turbo at Mont Louis

BX TRD Turbo at Col de Mantet

Py, home for XM spares
Day 14 – Tuesday 21st August: Most of today was spent painting a ceiling, so to relieve the tedium, we decide to do some exploring with the Terrano. It is, after all, a 4WD, and there are plenty of pistes around here open to vehicles.
We take the local 1:25,000 map and drive out of the village straight up to a piste on the ridge. Remembering my first off-road experience in Wiltshire, I check my tools are handy and exercise caution once we hit the dirt. I now follow the maxim “Four-Wheel Drivers do it slowly” and although the piste is pretty bumpy, we encounter no problems. We meet up with the main track up to the summit of Canigou and drive down into Villerach and on to Prades for some dinner. We have covered about 8kms off-road, so it is a modest drive.
Day 16 – Thursday 23rd August: Yesterday was spent decorating (yawn). Today we need some supplies and to avoid cabin fever, we decide to go shopping. Rather worryingly, a puddle of diesel has appeared under the back axle of the Terrano. I have a poke round, and find a single drip rather than a full-on leak in progress. The tank is still full, so we carry on with the planned trip and decide to keep a careful eye on the leak until I can investigate further. Rather strangely, the leak disappears.
Day 25 – Saturday 1st September: Yesterday we drove up to Marialles, which is up about 7kms of piste and very bumpy. The diesel leak has re-appeared and confirms my suspicions that it is mainly due to bouncy off-roading. The prime suspects are the joints between the fuel-lines and the rubber fuel hoses to the tank. I open up the inspection hatch and feel my way along the hoses. Sure enough, the return line is wet with diesel at the joint. I remove the rubber hose, and find the fuel line end is cracking and splayed and looks like the chief suspect. As a bodge, I cut off the worst 3mm of hose, and replace it in reverse, using a new jubilee clip for the joint with the fuel-line. I run the engine and everything looks good.
Day 27 – Monday 3rd September: Today we decide to drive up to the Black Lakes. This is another seriously bumpy bit of driving up a track with some quite steep section. The drops are quite sheer and Louise doesn’t like them very much. By the time we reach the limit of driveable road and park up, I check the back of the Terrano and the tell-tale drip has returned. I am now pretty sure the leak is more than just the join between the rubber hose and fuel-line and suspicion now turns on to the fuel line itself. We get home safely and I begin the search for a reliable garage.

Black lakes 3 Sept 2012
Day 32 – Saturday 8th September: Yesterday I picked up the Terrano from Garage Gaby, who have done exactly the kind of repair I was expecting. Mr Gaby has amputated the fuel lines where they are sound and replaced both the lines with rubber fuel hoses. It looks like a nice clean job and so far not a drip of diesel to be seen. In its place, has appeared a water leak! Happily, this was just water from the hose between the radiator and the expansion tank. In all our travels, the battery has come slightly loose and propelled its plastic battery tray towards the belts, which have gradually worn their way through the hose. I have tightened everything very firmly down and applied a first-aid dressing the pipe so it won’t dump water. On Monday I can find a car-parts shop and buy a new hose. Big sigh of relief, overlaid with the thought “what next?” We head for Algeciras on Thursday. I hope I have more trouble-free motoring over the next month than I have had over the last!