Marrakech, Morocco
Groups of men in matching t-shirts at airports generally fill me with stag-weekend horrors. Their beer-fuelled 'hilarity' is a sure-fire signal to avoid at all costs. But here I am in my green t-shirt with its 'Truants Marrakesh 2012' logo emblazoned proudly on it, shaking hands with Jono our tour leader and introducing myself to my fellow masochists, all of whom are sporting the same vibrant-hued tops.
Paul and Alex, the editor of Metal Hammer magazine, arrive soon enough and we all check in before heading through security with instructions from Rod to convene in the first bar we see. It's not long past 10am at this point and the three of us decide that a coffee and some scrambled eggs in Cafe Rouge may be a more sensible option. By the time we've done that, changed money and grabbed some duty free vodka to numb the pain ahead it's almost midday so we make our way over to the Red Lion Bar to join the rest of our party.
They're all getting stuck into festivities so Paul and I throw caution to the wind, grab a pint and toast the adventure to come. Fortunately, our flight is called before we have to get a second round so off we all traipse to gate 107.
As we walk I chat to Des, a member of the legendary Penguin Cafe Orchestra, who reveals that when he flies back on Thursday evening he has to stay at the airport overnight as he's off to Japan first thing on Friday on tour. He'll be absolutely exhausted by the time he arrives in Tokyo.
At gate 107 our flight number is displayed on the board and we all do a double take. By sheer chance we'll be travelling on BA2666. The number of the beast strikes again. We take it as a very good omen that the stars have aligned.
A small delay is announced which means that there's time for another drink for the thirsty riders, so off they slink to the bar for G&Ts, led by Carole and Paul, two newbies to this charity cycle ride-lark, both of whom are sporting L-Plates and Bradley Wiggins sideburns in addition to their bright green shirts.
Andy, the on-tour videographer, fills the time by interviewing each member of the party about how we all got involved in this fundraising expedition while Mark Fuller, hotelier of distinction, decides now would be an opportune moment to update his will so, holding a copy of The Sun on Sunday to show the date, he leaves all his worldly goods behind and with that we're called for boarding.
Paul and I are seated together and it turns out Rod is the third traveller in our row. We try and pump him for information about where we're staying during the cycle, having been told solely about our hotel for tonight and the one when we return to Marrakech three days later. Our two nights in the desert are rumoured to be campsites, with some people talking of a communal tent for all 40 of us to hunker down in... but he gives nothing away, just telling us to wait and see with a big grin.
Once we're airborne, the chief stewardess announces our presence over the tannoy (as if the other passengers are unaware) and wishes us well for our trek. Taking this as his cue Dave from Sony dons his helmet and walks up and down the aisles collecting money from our fellow travellers, aided and abetted by Jonathon, another of our number. Every penny counts towards the grand fundraising total!
After three and a half hours we land, disembarking into warm sunshine, but not quite the scorching weather we feared. It seems that there's been a brief lull in the heatwave, brought on by the weather system that's flooded Spain, but normal blistering service will be resumed soon.
Outside the airport three vans await us and we watch as the local handlers pile our bags on to the roofs before we set off in convoy to the Hotel El Andalous, just ten minutes away in the Hivernage district, passing kids on motorbikes and camels lazing by the roadside as we go.
The hotel is large and very pleasant, with little fountains in the gardens and mosaics adorning the walls. Paul and I are allocated our room and proceed to unpack and repack our luggage, preparing for the days ahead and ensuring we're fully stocked with supplies for the road, before joining our compadres down by the pool bar.
It's the perfect chance to get to know more of the team and there's a general sense of bonhomie, fuelled by beer and bravado, whilst we swat away phantom mosquitoes as darkness falls.
At 7.30 we head into the large dining room for a buffet dinner. Tables groaning with salad platters lie alongside others with meat and pasta dishes being warmed by flickering gas burners. Nothing seems traditionally Moroccan but we're all ravenous so plate after plate gets devoured, washed down with local red wine, and followed by an exquisite selection of desserts.
Once finished, we're briefed for tomorrow. Rod explains how things work regarding team spirit and we're assigned buddies to ensure we're all taking on enough fluids and salts at each stop on the ride and then Nick, the doctor, talks us through tell-tale signs of dehydration informing us that "your shit should look like champagne, not Irn-Bru!"
Finally, Claude, a Frenchman in charge of the expedition guides us through the day's itinerary, telling us which support vehicles are which, how we follow the route, what to be wary of and a myriad other things to ensure we're safe en route.
Fully briefed we decamp to the bar where the screening of the Ryder Cup's finale jostles for attention with the local band hired to entertain the guests. Lord knows what the Moroccan clientele think as the gentle ambience of the flutes, bazuki, zither and drums are drowned out by the roars of the golfing fans in our party each time the little white ball rolls into a hole.
Paul, Alex and I decamp to the poolside and order mint tea to round the night off and Yasin, the waiter, obliges. I take a snap of him pouring the sweet, steaming liquid from its wrought-silver pot into the engraved glasses but the minute he finishes he excitedly he asks if I can bluetooth him the picture, so, much fiddling ensues until my photo has leapt across the ether and resides on his phone. He looks very happy indeed.
We sit contemplating bed and a fresh start in the morning until alarm calls are confirmed, ear plugs inserted and the curtains drawn.
Tomorrow we ride!
